The Rake's Wicked Proposal

Grace’s chin rose defensively. ‘And how typical of a man, also, to assume that a woman could be subdued by such idle threats as those!’

‘Oh, they are not idle threats, Grace.’ His voice was silkily soft—dangerously so. ‘I do assure you, that the retribution I have in mind will very quickly become a promise of intent if you do not cease challenging my every word and action.’

Grace continued to face him defiantly. ‘I do not believe you would take me by force, Lucian.’

Lucian’s tension relaxed slightly, and he allowed a mocking smile to curve those sculptured lips. ‘You have not led me to believe it would be by force, Grace…’

No, she had not. The opposite, in fact…

A fact Lucian, as a gentleman, should not have voiced! ‘I am not one of your tavern wenches or camp followers to be spoken to in this familiar manner,’ she told him haughtily.

Dark brows rose over cold, dark eyes as he once again spoke in that softly dangerous tone. ‘One of my “tavern wenches” and “camp followers”…?’

Grace gave a disdainful snort. ‘Do not even attempt to tell me that you have not known your fair share of them, My Lord!’

Yes, Lucian had ‘known’ tavern wenches—along with some of the more desirable actresses, and also several married ladies of the ton. But Major Lord Lucian St Claire had most definitely drawn the line at bedding camp followers. As a young unmarried lady of only twenty years Grace should not even know of such things, let alone talk of them!

‘I believe this conversation to be well and truly over, Grace,’ he told her haughtily.

‘I believe you are right, My Lord.’ Her manner was scathing as she gave a brief, dismissive curtsey before turning and walking away.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, when Grace had unhurriedly covered the distance to the house and disappeared inside with a final angry twitch of her skirts, that Lucian realised he had not, after all, informed Grace of his decision to take his leave in the morning…

Chapter Thirteen

Dinner that evening was a dismal affair. Oh, the food was superb—as usual. And the Winton Hall butler, Westlake, ensured with his presence that the meal was served with such quiet efficiency that one course followed another with ease. It was the five people seated around the table in the small family dining room who made the meal so inharmonious.

Darius sat at the head of the table, of course—as was his right. The Duchess, delicately dignified in black, sat at the opposite end. Grace was seated to Darius’s left, with Lucian at her side and Francis opposite. Hardly a word was spoken by any of them, except a brief comment by Francis on the weather. A comment that only Darius acknowledged, and then just with a grunt.

Grace still remembered the warm arousal brought about by her earlier conversation with Lucian too clearly to feel comfortable in his presence. Lucian seemed disinclined to converse with her, either— perhaps because he did not want to give Grace the opportunity to introduce the subject of her aunt’s move to the Dower House? If he thought that would keep her silent on the subject, he was mistaken!

Although Grace wisely did not speak until she and her aunt stood up to leave at the end of the meal, so that the men might be left to enjoy their cigars and brandy. ‘Might I have a few minutes of your time tomorrow, Your Grace?’ She could feel the intensity of Lucian’s dark gaze fixed upon the back she kept firmly turned towards him.

Darius stirred himself, that devil/angel face politely enquiring as he looked up at Grace. ‘But of course, my dear. I will be in my—the study most of the morning.’ He looked irritated by the slip, a dark scowl marring his brow as he turned to his sister-in-law. ‘I am sorry, Margaret.’

The Duchess attempted a dignified smile, the effort marred by the fact that her mouth trembled slightly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘It is your study now, Darius.’

‘Yes, but—damn it!’ Darius’s scowl deepened. ‘Excuse me, ladies.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I am afraid I find this situation intolerable.’

‘I believe we all do, Darius.’ The Duchess gave a gracious inclination of her head as she regained her composure. ‘If you will all excuse me? I believe I will retire for the night.’