At her reminder, Jack recalled that he did indeed have business to conduct. Or rather what constituted business for him, since this afternoon he was promised to play cards at a gentlemen’s club, where there were always men eager to be parted from their cash.
Considering Jack’s present situation and the debt he owed Grace’s father, some might have advised him to refrain from further gaming. However, his ill luck with Danvers had been a fluke. He’d walked away a winner on the pair of occasions when he’d played since. He knew he would do so again, so long as he paid attention to the cards, abided the odds, and held the wagers in reasonable check.
He hesitated, reluctant to leave Grace and her visitor alone. However, given the rent coming due on the elegant town house he’d leased here in Bath, he decided he had better depart as planned.
Were he worried that Grace was in any way attracted to Cooke, he would have stayed regardless of his prior commitment. But despite her obvious friendship with him, he could tell that her affection went no deeper. Oh, Cooke wished it did, Jack realized, sensing again that he had a rival in the man. But if Grace were interested in him that way, she would surely have acted on her emotions long ago.
It certainly hasn’t taken her long to respond to her attraction to me.
“Unfortunately you are right and I cannot remain,” Jack told her, lowering his voice to a confidential tone. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a warm kiss onto her palm. “Have a most excellent afternoon, and I shall see you this evening.”
Pink stole into her cheeks. “I look forward to it, my lord.”
“Jack,” he whispered against her ear.
Straightening, he turned to the other man and exchanged farewells. With a last glance at Grace, he departed.
“So, that was the infamous Lord Jack Byron, was it?” Terrence remarked not long after Jack left.
Grace finished pouring the tea that had arrived and passed Terrence a cup. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” He gave a negligent shrug, then took a drink of the gently steaming beverage. “Only that the man has a reputation, and not all to the good.”
“Well, I am sure no man is perfect, and I am not surprised to hear as much about Jack—Lord Jack, that is.”
“So you’re aware he’s a womanizer.”
A plum-sized fist squeezed beneath her ribs. “No, but again, I am not surprised. He is a very handsome man. Women must naturally flock his way.”
Terrence gave a derisive snort. “If you like the type, I suppose.” Leaning over, he reached for a wafer-thin slice of shortbread. After dipping it into his tea, he took a bite and swallowed. “You’ve heard he gambles then, too, have you?”
“All gentlemen gamble. It is practically a social requirement of the breed.”
“Yes, but do most make a habit of using the tables to fatten their incomes? I understand he is quite the sharp.”
Her brows drew together, the heat of the cup warming her suddenly chill fingers. Having sat beside Jack watching him anticipate every card played in an entire game of whist, she could well believe Terrence’s assertions. Jack did have a rare aptitude for games, but that only meant he was clever. Many people liked to play cards. There was no reason to think ill of him for it.
“I suppose next you will say he drinks too much,” she charged.
Terrence frowned. “He drinks, but not to excess. Compared to many aristocratic lords, he’s practically temperate.”
“Well, at least he is spared that criticism.” She set her cup down on the table with a snap. “What is this? Why the interest in Lord Jack? I don’t understand how it is you even come to know of him.”
“Do you not? Perhaps it is because I’ve heard talk all the way to London about the pair of you.”
“What talk?”
“About how you’ve taken up with him. How you’re being squired all over Bath by him.”
“I find it highly unlikely that I am being mentioned in the gossip pages. So where are you getting your information?”
He glanced to one side. “From an acquaintance here in the city, who keeps an eye on such things.”
Her lips tightened as a suspicion rose within her. “On things? Or on me?”
He had the humility to flush. “I care about you, Grace. I want to make sure you are all right. That’s why I came to see you, to intervene before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what? As you can tell, I am perfectly well.”
“You are now, but what of later? What do you think you are doing, consorting with that man?”
“What do you mean, ‘consorting’?”
“Letting him dance attendance on you, flattering and fawning over you? He wants something from you.”
“Well, it isn’t my money, if that is what you are insinuating.”
“Having met him, I tend to agree. No, what he wants is something worse. He wants you, Grace, and he doesn’t mean to offer you a ring in exchange for your favours.”
She stared at her clasped hands. “Yes, I am already aware of that.”
“What?”
Glancing up, she met his gaze. “I know he wants me. He’s told me that himself. And I realize he very likely doesn’t have matrimony in mind.”
“And you are still seeing him?” Terrence said, his voice rising to a near shout.
She nodded. “For now. I am trying to decide.”
Leaping to his feet, Terrence took a few pacing steps. “Decide what? Whether or not to accept? Don’t be insane. You will say no, of course. My God, how could you even consider anything else?”
Knowing he might not appreciate her answer, she held her tongue.
“He’s bewitched you.”
“He has not.”
“He’s seducing you, urging you to go against your nature.”
“And what is my nature?”
Is it to be five and twenty and alone? A perennial spinster who will never know real passion or the full measure of a man’s touch?
Striding back, he dropped down on the sofa at her side. “It isn’t to be used and cast aside. It isn’t to be dishonoured. And that is what he’ll do. He’ll take you and enjoy you, and when he grows tired, he’ll abandon you and forget you ever met. He’s had dozens of women. It’s what he does. You’ll be just one more. And when it’s over, what then? What will become of you, since I am sure your family will not approve.”
She closed her eyes, having had those very thoughts herself. Was Terrence right? Was she being a fool to cast aside her virtue and her pride for a fleeting love affair with Jack Byron?
“He’s an aristocrat, Grace. You deserve the world, but facts are facts. Men of his class don’t marry women from yours.”
No, she conceded. They don’t.
“I’m aware this isn’t the best time to ask, but I will again regardless.”
“No, Terrence—,” she said, suspecting what he was about to say.
“Marry me, Grace. Marry me and let me make you happy. I’ll shower you with love, enough that you’ll forget all about him. Say yes and let me show you how grand our life can be together.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, prepared to let him down gently, just as she had all the times before. But suddenly, the words did not come. Suddenly she was unsure—not only of her answer but of herself as well.
“I…,” she began, studying his earnest-eyed face. “I…” Her heart beat in a slow, heavy cadence. “I will think about it.”
“But Grace…,” he said, starting to argue out of habit. Abruptly he stopped. “What? What did you say?”
“I said I shall consider your proposal.”
His features lit with happy surprise. “You will?”
“Yes. In the meantime, why do we not talk of other matters? The latest goings-on in Town, for instance. Here, I’ll pour us more tea while you regale me.”
Several hours later, Jack leaned back in his chair and listened to the actors on the stage. But the play wasn’t what held his real interest�
�that belonged to the woman at his side.
Entrancing in a gown of vibrant green silk, Grace radiated femininity, but not the frail, tepid sort borne by so many of her sex. She was bold and colourful—her lush red hair providing a perfect foil for the crisp apple green of her dress. Looking over at her, his mouth watered at the thought of taking a big juicy bite.
But sadly, even he knew a crowded theatre was no place for the kind of things running through his mind. He would have to content himself with a far more innocent touch instead, particularly since her aunt was seated in the row ahead of them. The deep shadows inside the box worked to his advantage, though, providing concealment as he reached for Grace’s hand. Lifting it gently, he settled her palm against his thigh.
She sent him a sideways look, her hand lying lax beneath his own. When a line in the play drew applause, she eased her palm away and softly joined in.
His brows drew fractionally closer before he tipped his head near. “Is anything the matter?” he whispered.
“No, of course not.” Giving him a quick smile, she redirected her eyes toward the stage.
Leaning back again, he watched the actor portraying Petruchio hoist his Kate onto his shoulders. The audience laughed at the ribald, fast-paced dialogue delivered with unerring skill by the performers.
Gazing at Grace’s profile, he skimmed his fingertips along the side of her neck.
She shivered and gave a small shrug to discourage his touch.
With a smile, he paused before moving to toy with a curl at her nape.
“Jack, stop,” she said on a hushed undertone.
“Why?” he teased.
“You know why. Now stop.”
His lips twitched. Reaching higher, he traced the shell-like edge of her ear, drawing a quiver from her this time.
“Please.”
He smiled, slow and intimate. “Please what?”
“We’re in a theatre.”
“Yes, but in this dark corner no one can see.”
“What about Aunt Jane?”
“She is busy watching the play.” Angling his head, he caught her earlobe between his teeth and gave a light, playful nip.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she bit her own lip to hold back a sigh.
“I could do more,” he promised in a low, suggestive tone.
Her eyes turned to his, heavy-lidded and beseeching. “Don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
She stared, the play forgotten. “Yes.”
He met her gaze for a long moment before taking pity and easing away. As he did, he reached for her hand again, causing her to tense. “Just relax,” he told her softly. “It’s only your hand.”
With a slight nod, she relented, allowing him to cradle her palm inside his.
They sat just so for the next two minutes, watching the performance with their hands clasped.
Unable to resist another foray, he eased open one of the pearl buttons on her glove, then a second. Ever so gently, he stroked the warm, translucent skin on the inner curve of her wrist, moving his fingers in a seductive, circular glide.
Her hand trembled, quickened breath soughing from between her lips. Suddenly he was glad for the noisy action of the play.
For some little while, he continued touching her in that way, learning the feel of her delicate veins and sinew. Then, needing more, he opened another button.
Her breath caught as he inserted his forefinger, sliding it in a silky caress over the sensitive length of her palm.
She shuddered, her eyes falling closed.
Forward and back he went, then forward and back again. And again.
The symbolic imagery worked its spell on him as well, his groin stiffening painfully beneath his evening breeches. Hard and throbbing with need, he knew he had reached his limit. With one last wandering caress, he withdrew, taking time to patiently re-button her glove.
Glancing over at her, he saw the flags of colour in her cheeks and the bright glaze of desire visible in her eyes. It took every ounce of his control not to pull her into his arms and claim her mouth for a hot, wet kiss. Fighting the urge to draw her to him rather than away, he carefully returned her hand to her lap.
Gulping down an unsteady breath, Grace curled the fingers he’d freed into a fist and strove to calm the sensations whizzing like fireworks through her system.
All evening she’d been trying to place some much needed distance between herself and Jack—emotionally, anyway, considering the fact that she’d had no choice but to accompany him and Aunt Jane to the theatre tonight as promised. Because ever since Terrence had taken his leave, their conversation had been replaying itself in her mind with distressing frequency.
Clearly, Terrence was right about Jack’s affinity for women—he had only to snap his fingers and a multitude would come running. Nor did she doubt he was the gamester Terrence claimed, given his remarkable talent with cards. And as for his intentions toward her…if his ardent kisses were anything to judge by, he wasn’t planning to lead her down the paths of virtue and self-restraint anytime soon.
He was a rake doing what rakes did best.
Sadly, her meagre efforts to erect some mental barriers against him were proving worthless. One touch and she’d turned as malleable as clay. A single caress and she’d been his willing supplicant—longing for more.
And he didn’t even have to kiss me!
What she needed, she realized, was time to think. Time that did not include Jack Byron’s company.
To her relief, he made no further romantic overtures for the remainder of the play, conducting himself like a perfect gentleman rather than the rogue he truly was.
When the performance ended, her aunt excused herself for a few moments to go speak with a friend—leaving Grace and Jack alone.
“I thought I would stop by tomorrow afternoon,” he said as both of them rose from their seats. “What do you say to ices at Ford’s, then a walk to Beechen Cliff? I hear there are no finer views of the city than from that location.”
“It sounds delightful.”
And truly it did, she thought. But she needed an opportunity to consider her choices—and some distance from him while she did so. What better solution than a journey out of the city?
“I am afraid, however,” she continued, “that we shall have to postpone the outing. I haven’t had an opportunity to tell you, but Aunt Jane is traveling to Bristol tomorrow. I am to go with her.”
Originally she had planned to remain at the town house, one of her aunt’s female acquaintances happily agreeing to keep her company for a couple of nights. But Grace knew her aunt would be thrilled by her change of plans, as well as with her companionship on the journey west.
“Bristol.” His dark brows shot straight. “How long are you going to be in Bristol?”
“Only a couple of days. Likely little more than the weekend. Aunt Jane is visiting an old school friend who just moved north. I am certain we shall not remain long.” But long enough, she hoped, to enable her to make some decisions.
Jack looked completely nonplussed, as though news of her departure had thrown him off balance. Moments later, however, he recovered his usual affability. “Well, I wish you a good journey and shall count on seeing you upon your return.”
“Yes. I shall send you a note the moment I am in town again.”
His expression eased at her assurance. “Good. And not a moment later, mind, else I too find myself with a sudden need for a trip to Bristol. Four days at most and I shall expect you back.”
“Four days,” she agreed. She only hoped that four days proved to be enough.
* * *
CHAPTER 8
“Are you certain you don’t wish to remain a couple days longer?” her aunt asked as they stood together in the bedchamber where Grace had slept the last three nights.
Grace handed a pair of books to the maidservant, who was helping her pack. “I have had a lovely time here with you and Mrs Duggin, but I would rather return to Bath today as planned.
You stay and visit a while more. Truly, I do not mind in the least.”
Aunt Jane’s lips firmed with clear indecision. “Yes, but you will be all alone at the town house. What will you do, rattling around by yourself?”
“I am sure I shall find ways to occupy my time. And I will hardly be alone, not with eight of your servants in residence,” she countered. “I assure you they shall keep me well-fed and eminently comfortable.”
“Just so. But I fear your father would not approve.”
“Then let us not tell him, and that way he won’t be displeased.”
Her aunt’s eyes glittered with surprised enthusiasm at the suggestion. “I suppose you are right in that.”
“Besides,” Grace continued, “it is not as if I am a girl any longer. At five and twenty I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
A soft smile lightened her aunt’s face. “From my perspective, five and twenty is plenty young. But I am forgetting that you can still send for Mrs Twine to come visit. She won’t mind in the least. Promise you will send for her the moment you arrive.”
Seeing that her valise was packed, Grace reached for her spencer of lightweight fawn sarcenet. Slipping it on, she fastened the short row of buttons, then turned to dust a kiss over her aunt’s cheek. “I shall be sure to let her know I am returned.”
“I will only be another day or two.”
“Stay as long as you like. I shall be fine.”
Yet an hour later as she sat in the coach traveling back to Bath, Grace wasn’t sure how “fine” she actually was. Despite the time away, she was no closer to making a decision about her situation than she had been when she’d left.
She’d told Terrence she would consider his offer of marriage, but each time she started to do so, her thoughts seemed to shy away and before she knew it, she would find herself occupied by some other activity.
As for Jack, she couldn’t think of him without her pulse picking up speed, her body tingling with heated memories of his touch. She missed him, her dreams and daydreams leaving her with a deep, yearning ache only he could assuage.
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