The Rake's Wicked Proposal

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘That, surely, is a matter of opinion?’

Grace frowned. ‘From all accounts Francis was struck on the side of the head. I hardly think the branch responsible sprang from the ground of its own volition and struck him!’

‘I hardly think so, either.’ Lucian gave a derisive smile. ‘But it could have fallen from the tree on which it grew, could it not…?’

‘You—But—You are of the opinion that on this beautiful sunny day, a day with not a breath of wind, a tree decided to choose the very moment when Francis walked beneath it to shed one of its branches?’ Grace’s scorn with that explanation was obvious as she looked at him scathingly.

Put like that, Lucian could see the explanation did sound rather lame. But the truth was even more unbelievable…

Lucian’s conversation with Darius in the library that morning had indeed been of a more confiding nature than previously. Confiding and confidential. A point Darius had been at great pains to point out before their conversation began. So much so that Darius had extracted a promise from Lucian that he would not share the information with anyone. That included Grace… something that Lucian already knew was going to cause problems between them.

Perhaps if he had known what Darius was going to tell him he would not have given his promise to the other man, but being a man of his word, Lucian had no intention of breaking it once it had been given.

‘It is one explanation, yes.’ He gave an inclination of his head.

‘A ridiculous one!’ Grace’s face was flushed as she stood up to restlessly pace the room, her dark curls bouncing enticingly about her heart-shaped face, the dark grey ribbon threaded through them an exact match in colour for her silk gown. ‘It is the one Darius gave you this morning after I left the two of you together, is it not? You cannot seriously believe such a tale?’ she scorned, with an incredulous shake of her head.

Lucian raised dark brows. ‘Perhaps you would allow me to answer your first question before berating me with another?’

She gave a disgusted snort. ‘Answer, then!’

Lucian drew in a controlling breath. ‘There is absolutely no evidence to support Francis having been attacked by anyone—’

‘The lump on the side of his head the size of a pigeon’s egg does not count, I suppose?’

He shrugged. ‘It proves that he was struck with something—we will accept that it was the branch,’ he conceded, as he saw the light of rebellion in Grace’s eyes. ‘Whether or not anyone actually wielded the branch is another matter entirely.’

‘The next thing you will be telling me is that Francis struck himself on the side of the head!’

Lucian’s mouth tightened. ‘No, Grace, I will not be telling you that.’

‘That is something, I suppose.’ Her skirts moved about the slender length of her legs as she continued to pace. ‘Lucian, I know that you and Darius have been friends for some years—’ her tone had softened, become reasoning ‘—but surely you must see that this explanation is the one he wishes people to believe rather than the truth?’

Lucian took a swallow of his brandy before answering her. ‘I do not remember saying that Darius had given that as an explanation for Francis’s injury…’

Grace gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘What explanation did he give, then?’ She had thought she could at least rely on Lucian to see that all was not right here—to accept the possibility that Darius Wynter might—just might—be behind this attack on Francis. After all, once Darius had safely disposed of the Duchess, by moving her to the Dower House, all that remained was to rid himself of Francis. Not literally, of course. But a scare like this morning’s might be enough to encourage Francis to leave Winton Hall.

It was the only explanation that had made any sense to Grace as she had allowed her thoughts free rein during the afternoon spent with her aunt in her private sitting room.

Francis was too candid in his remarks concerning Darius.

The two brothers had argued yet again after dinner yesterday evening. And this morning Francis had been attacked. Could Lucian really see no connection between those two events…?