The Rake's Wicked Proposal

She gave a haughty inclination of her head. ‘Thank you.’

Lucian’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘What a little prude you are, after all!’ He gave her one last arrogantly sweeping glance before leaving the room.

A prude? Lucian could still call her a prude after—after—? Grace couldn’t even bear to think of the intimacies she had allowed—encouraged!—between the two of them only minutes ago. Of the way she had pleaded with Lucian to show her more. Of the way she had asked him to show her how to give him the same pleasure!

A request he had refused…

What must he think of her?

A young lady of breeding and refinement simply did not behave in that way.

Grace’s self-recriminations at her wantonness were immense. But how much more shocked and disgusted by her behaviour must Lucian be…!

Chapter Eleven

‘I believe it would be for the best, once we reach your uncle’s home, if I were to talk to Darius alone,’ Lucian told Grace firmly as she sat across his carriage from him, her maid beside her.

‘Very well.’ Grace nodded after the briefest of pauses. ‘But I wish to speak with you again before you leave.’

Lucian could easily guess the subject of that conversation!

Despite what Grace had said to the contrary, Lucian had no doubt she deeply regretted their earlier intimacy. How could he doubt it when she had so studiously avoided any physical contact with him since that time, even to shunning any assistance from him in ascending into his carriage a short time ago?

But with Grace’s maid present Lucian knew it was impossible for them to discuss the subject further now. Although he feared they would not be able to discuss it later either, with her uncle’s household in such emotional turmoil.

‘Very well.’ He nodded distantly. ‘It would perhaps be advisable if you were to be in your bedchamber when Darius sends for you.’ He shot the young maid an impatient glance, well aware that although she was not a part of this conversation she could nevertheless hear it. ‘I do not believe it will serve any purpose for your relatives to know that you came to my home this evening. I would suggest that we allow them to believe your maid came in your stead, to inform me of your uncle’s collapse and that you felt a need for me to be at your side during this time of distress.’

Grace appreciated exactly what Lucian was trying to do. It had been extremely improper of her to have gone to his home this evening. In light of what had transpired between them it had been much worse than improper!

‘I am sure you are right,’ she acknowledged distantly. ‘If asked, I am sure that Mary will agree.’ Mary had been Grace’s maid since childhood, accompanying Grace from Cornwall when she had gone to live with her aunt and uncle in Worcestershire.

Grace lapsed back into silence, her thoughts far from pleasant as they persisted in dwelling on her behaviour this evening. The ache of her breasts and thighs refused to let her think of anything else!

Lucian had touched her breasts. Kissed her there. Taken her nipples into his mouth to suckle and caress them. As for the way he had touched her between her legs… Just thinking of those caresses, the hard thrusts of his fingers inside her, the unimagined pleasure she had known from those caresses, was enough to reignite that aching heat and bring a flush to her cheeks. Her breathing became low and shallow, her breasts pressing tautly against the bodice of her gown.

It didn’t help Grace’s discomfort that she was so aware of Lucian as he sat opposite her, looking so cool and distant, so much his arrogantly confident self, in the cream breeches and with a topcoat over his dark blue jacket, his necktie tied meticulously at the throat of the clean—and dry!—white shirt he had changed into before rejoining her in his study. Looking every inch as if their earlier intimacy had never occurred…

Grace dearly wished that it had not.

She had even more reason to wish that were the case when Lucian joined her in the drawing room, following his conversation with Lord Darius!

‘The prognosis is not good, Grace.’ Lucian did not see the point in prevarication concerning the Duke of Carlyne’s state of health; Grace would need to know the truth of the situation if she were to be of benefit to her aunt during the coming days and weeks. Besides, as he knew only too well, Grace was not the sort of woman who appreciated being protected from the truth. ‘The physician is to remain at your uncle’s bedside tonight. It is his belief that a second, more serious seizure may occur during the next twenty-four hours.’ His expression was grim.