The Rake's Wicked Proposal

Lucian had discarded his jacket, waistcoat and cravat, and was now wearing only tailored cream breeches and the damp white shirt—that shirt unbuttoned to reveal the strong column of his throat. He obviously had not been expecting visitors this evening—let alone one who wept all over him!

Grace attempted to stand up as she realised she was unashamedly perched upon his knee as he sat in the winged armchair, her expression one of guilty embarrassment as she modestly lowered silky dark lashes.

‘No, do not move,’ Lucian rasped as his arms tightened about her. ‘Now that you are calmer I wish you to remain exactly where you are and tell me what has so distressed you.’

The tears instantly returned to her eyes as Grace recalled exactly what had brought her here. To Lucian. To the man she might constantly spar with verbally but whose strength she did not doubt for a moment. To the man she might, in fact, love…

She swallowed hard. ‘My uncle—the Duke—has had a—a seizure of some kind. The physician—the physician is not sure that he will recover!’ The tears once again fell hotly down her cheeks. ‘And it is all my fault, Lucian!’ She fell to weeping once again.

‘Grace, I really must insist that you calm yourself.’ Lucian’s voice was deliberately stern. Enough to stem her flow of tears, he hoped. ‘There is nothing I can do to assuage your fears whilst you continue to caterwaul in this unbecoming fashion,’ he added brusquely, when his sternness had no visible effect upon her tears.

That last remark certainly did. Grace’s expression was one of indignation as she glared at him. ‘Caterwaul, sir? Ladies do not caterwaul!’

‘Usually not, no,’ Lucian drawled.

Her cheeks became flushed. ‘I insist I was not caterwauling!’

Lucian gave an unrepentant grin. ‘Whether you were or were not, my remark had the desired effect, did it not? Your tears have now ceased, and along with them my own discomfort.’ He gave a pointed look at his wet and clinging shirt.

Grace gave him a reproving look as she moved out of his arms and rose to her feet. ‘It is unkind of you to tease me when you can see how upset I am.’

Lucian studied her. She really did not look anything like the elegantly fashionable Grace Hetherington she had become these last ten days. Her hair was secured precariously in a riot of curls, her face was blotchy and her eyes red from the tears she had cried, and her pale blue high-waisted gown was crumpled and creased from the time she had spent in his arms. But Lucian knew by the sparkle that had returned to her eyes and the high colour in her cheeks that his remark had had the desired effect. That, although obviously dishevelled, Grace was rapidly returning to her determinedly outspoken self.

‘It was unkind.’ Lucian gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘Even if true, it was unkind.’

Her mouth firmed. ‘My Lord—’

‘We are not going to argue again this evening, Grace,’ he reproved with a dark frown. ‘The Duke of Carlyne is ill, you say?’

Grace instantly forgot her annoyance with Lucian as she recalled the terrible scene that had transpired at Carlyne House earlier that evening. Her uncle had staggered from the direction of his library to where Grace and her aunt sat in the family salon, his face bright red as he clutched his chest, appearing to be struggling for breath. Grace and her aunt barely had time to rise from their chairs before the Duke had collapsed onto the carpet at their feet.

Aunt Margaret had instantly begun to scream hysterically, bringing both Francis and Darius running to the salon. Francis had seemed at a loss as he just stood and stared at his older brother; Darius was the one who had remained completely calm as he sent one of the servants for the physician, before he and his younger brother carried the Duke, still unconscious, up to his bedchamber.

Grace had tried her best to calm her aunt as they’d followed the men up the wide staircase—to little effect. Her aunt had been almost on the point of collapse herself by the time the physician had arrived, some time later, and sent them all out of the room so that he might examine his patient in peace, as well as privacy.

All the time Grace had soothed and offered words of comfort to her aunt she had been guiltily aware of the altercation that had occurred between Francis and herself that morning—an event that had so disturbed the Duke…