by Laura Landon
“Never...” She stopped to glare at him with more intensity. “Never put Grace in the same class as me. She doesn’t even deserve to have her name whispered in the same breath with mine.”
He stared at her serious expression, then nodded his head in acquiescence. “My apologies.”
“Grace came to me because she was desperate. Her father was forcing her younger sister to marry a despicable man old enough to be her father. To keep her sister safe, Grace agreed to take her place.”
“Marriage to the man would have been so terrible?”
Genevieve rose from the settee and stood in front of the window. “Yes. Every hour with him would have been hell on earth.”
Raeborn watched Genevieve’s shoulders shake with each shuddering breath. She turned and scorched him with a look of repulsion.
“His first wife died birthing his only child, a daughter. His second wife killed herself before she’d been married a full six months. The man is evil in the cruelest sense of the word. His sexual depravity and vile penchants make the devil appear saintly.” She paced in agitation. “He is a man of some means and gives all who know him the impression of being ever so pious and righteous, while behind closed doors his actions are foul and perverted.” She paused and turned her haunted face to the window. “He’s an abomination to everything good. Lewd and despicable. Not fit to be called human.”
He rose from the settee and stood behind her. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, and he wanted to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. But he was afraid she’d recoil from him if he reached out to her.
“She could have refused. She was of age.”
“But her sister wasn’t. Grace had to agree to his offer until her sister was safely married.”
“Is she married now?”
“She was married two weeks ago.” She paused, and Vincent saw her shoulders relax. They lifted when she took a deep breath. “On the day of the wedding, the man informed her that their betrothal would proceed without delay. There was only the simple matter of the papers to sign assuring him that she was a virgin before he would take the steps necessary to make her his bride.”
“Assurance?”
“Yes. Her signed and witnessed assurance that the woman he was taking as his wife was a virgin. One couldn’t expect a man so closely created in God’s image to accept a tainted woman as his bride. A written oath vowing of her virginity was essential before she could be sacrificed on the altar of perversion.”
Vincent felt a certain revulsion. “So to keep from marrying him she needed to lose her virginity.”
“Grace knew that simply refusing him would do no good. It would only incur her father’s wrath and make the man more determined to have her. He’s relentless when he wants something and won’t let anything get in his way. He is convinced he’s been sent by God to punish women for their sins. To abuse and humiliate and beat them into submission until they repent for their immoral ways.”
She turned to face him. “Grace knew this was her only choice. The man would never force marriage on her if she refused to swear that she was a virgin. Coming here, giving herself to you had been her choice. She made it freely.”
“Why me?”
Genevieve smiled. “You were my choice. Who else could I have entrusted my most cherished friend to?”
Raeborn shrugged off the embarrassing compliment and walked across the room, needing to put some distance between them. A fire crackled in the grate, the flames licking upward in slow, mesmerizing movements. He spread his arms and braced his hands on the mantle.
“Does she know who I am?”
“No. Grace came to me with certain stipulations. One—that the man to whom she gave her virginity be a stranger to her.”
“What else?”
Genevieve smiled. “That the man she slept with be older than she. Grace is twenty-nine and considers herself quite old. She didn’t want the man she slept with to be younger.”
Raeborn arched his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. “Anything else?”
“She was most emphatic in her demand that whomever I chose for her be unmarried. She didn’t want to give herself to another woman’s husband.”
He stared into the fire. Finally he took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the mantle. “Where do I find her?”
“She does not want to be found, Raeborn.”
“I don’t care.”
“She’s not your responsibility. Leave her be.”
“She became my responsibility when the two of you included me in your scheme.”
“That was not our intent.”
“That no longer matters. I have to know if she’s carrying a babe.”
He heard Genevieve suck in a breath. “It’s only been one week. She can’t even suspect that she might be.”
“I need to make sure.”
“And then what?”
He shook his head. “I will find a position for her on one of my estates. Someplace where I can be assured that she is cared for. As well as the babe—if there is one.”
“A position?”
“Yes. What position does she hold now? Kitchen help? Upstairs maid? Ladies’ maid? What particular talents does she have?”
He turned around and found Genevieve smiling at him. “I’m sure she will be excellent in whatever position you find for her, Your Grace. She’s quite accomplished.”
“Then I will find her something. Something she’s used to doing. But nothing too strenuous in case she finds herself in a delicate condition.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Genevieve said, refilling her glass with wine and taking a sip. “But I doubt she will accept a position in your household.”
Raeborn thought he heard a hint of humor in Genevieve’s voice, and it irritated him. “What more do you expect me to do, woman? I didn’t ask for this problem to be thrust upon me. I don’t want another woman to risk bearing my child, especially a woman I don’t know and a child I can never claim.”
“I understand,” Genevieve whispered.
“Just tell me where I can find her and I’ll make sure she’s provided for. Maybe there won’t be anything to worry about. Maybe I didn’t get her with child.”
But even as he said the words, his body broke out in a cold sweat and his stomach knotted painfully. He took several deep breaths and told himself this time it would not be so bad. At least she was not his wife. At least he could distance himself from her if she did find herself in difficulty. At least he would not have to live through her birthing pains, then her death. He would meet with her, offer her a position and a generous settlement, and never see her again.
“Where can I find her?”
Genevieve absently straightened the flowers in one of the bouquets sitting on a small table, removing wilted petals from the otherwise perfect blooms. Without glancing in his direction, she went over to a sideboard and picked up a pitcher, then added some water to the arrangements.
“I hear the Marquess and Marchioness of Wedgewood are hosting a dinner and musicale on Wednesday next.”
Her switch in topics confused him. “Yes. I received an invitation this morning.”
“How fortunate. Invitations to the marchioness’s affairs are quite coveted.” She set down her pitcher and locked her gaze with his. “I’d make sure to attend.”
He nodded his understanding.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, Raeborn, I’m expecting a caller.”
“Of course.”
Genevieve walked him to the front door and took his hand. “Don’t be angry with her, Raeborn. There was no other choice for her.”
Vincent hoped the expression on his face concealed his true feelings. What he felt was not anger as much as fear. And he knew it would not go away until he knew for sure she was not carrying his child.
He turned to bid Genevieve a final farewell and was surprised when she squeezed his hand.
“Don’t be angry if she refuses your help, Raeborn. She has never had the luxury of havi
ng someone to rely on. I doubt she will find the thought appealing.”
She held his hand a moment longer, then released it.
He couldn’t let her words be the last between them. “Then she will have to get used to the idea. If she is carrying my child, she will have no choice but to accept my help,” he said, and turned to walk down the steps.
The near week he had to wait before Lady Wedgewood’s dinner seemed an eternity, but Wednesday finally came.
Vincent arrived early and scanned the halls of Wedgewood’s town house, watching every maid and female servant helping with the marchioness’s dinner and musicale. He wasn’t interested in the guests who were in attendance, nor in who would provide the musical entertainment. He was only interested in observing the steady stream of female servants who came from the kitchen area with trays of food and drinks for the guests.
So far, none was the woman Genevieve had called Grace. The woman who’d offered him her virginity two weeks earlier.
When dinner was announced, Vincent conversed with one of the female guests as he escorted her into the formal dining room, but he couldn’t remember one word she spoke. He was too busy scanning the area for anyone in Lady Wedgewood’s employ who matched the woman he remembered, the woman with hair like golden silk, the woman with round, full breasts.
Vincent shook his head to clear it and took his place near the head of the long dining table. The memory of the woman Genevieve called Grace haunted his memory day and night. No matter how much he ordered his brain to forget her, he couldn’t. Her searching gaze and tender touch refused to abandon him.
He reached for his glass of wine and took a healthy swallow.
The dowager Countess of Eversely was seated to his right, but he had a difficult time carrying on a conversation. Although he’d always enjoyed visiting with her, tonight he couldn’t concentrate enough to pay her the attention she deserved. He was too busy watching every female servant.
But none of them was the woman who’d given him her body nearly two weeks earlier. The woman who’d clung to him when he entered her and cried out her release when she reached her climax.
Vincent swiped at the sheen of perspiration on his brow caused by the memories of her lying naked in his arms and attacked the braised beef tips on his plate with a vengeance. He couldn’t allow himself to constantly relive the memories from that night. He couldn’t allow the woman who’d given him her virginity to consume his thoughts the way she did. It wasn’t normal. In all the years he’d gone to Genevieve’s, he’d never given any of the women with whom he’d lain a second thought.
Yet he hadn’t been able to think of anything or anyone except the delicate woman called Grace since that night.
Vincent reached for his glass of wine and took another swallow.
When the meal was over, he didn’t accompany the men to the library to enjoy the customary brandy and cigars. Instead he loitered in the halls, searching for the small, blonde serving girl that Genevieve had promised would be here. She wasn’t. She wasn’t anyplace he searched. When he had looked in every conceivable place, he finally gave up his search and made his way to the music room. He’d resume looking for her when the performance was over.
He slipped into the music room through a side door and took the first empty chair against the wall. The room was crowded since the evening’s entertainment had already begun, making it impossible to glimpse the performer. But Vincent recognized the selections immediately.
The pianist was in the middle of the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He remembered someone remarking that one of Lady Wedgewood’s sisters was quite accomplished and had agreed to play for them tonight.
If the performer was truly one of her sisters, she was indeed very good. She’d captured the haunting sadness of Beethoven’s first movement to perfection. He would have to compliment her when she finished.
He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair to listen. Her playing was flawless as she captured the drive and dynamic shifts of the second movement. When she finished, Vincent smiled. Beethoven would have approved of her interpretation of the first two movements. The real test of her talent, though, would come with the third.
Raeborn waited, then smiled in appreciation as her fingers flew over the keys. The lady was good. More than good. He was not an accomplished musician himself, but he recognized talent. And this lady had it in abundance. He would make sure to seek her out later. After he found Grace. After he gave the deceiver the set down she deserved.
He wondered what it would be like to see her again. To talk to her, a perfect stranger of the working class, after he’d shared such intimacies with her. He dreaded the thought. He wasn’t used to making love to women who did not freely give their bodies to men as a means of earning a living. The thought of taking an innocent’s virginity rankled him, and he became furious with both her and Genevieve all over again.
He listened to the music, the fast, ferocious frenzy of the last movement fitting his mood, paralleling his irritation. The minute Lady Wedgewood’s sister finished, he was going to continue his search for the elusive maid. He couldn’t stand to go another week worrying about her. Couldn’t stand to have this loose end not taken care of.
The music intensified as the performer neared the end. The furor built inside him at the same rate. He would find her. Even if he had to go to Wedgewood and ask if he had someone in his employ by the name of Grace.
Raeborn anticipated the final note and sat forward in his chair, ready to make his exit. He would begin his search again before the guests headed for the door.
Lady Wedgewood’s sister struck the final chord and the guests erupted in applause.
Vincent rose and turned. He wanted to catch at least a glimpse of the woman who possessed such amazing talent before he resumed his search.
The lady at the piano turned toward the guests and bowed her head. The blonde curls she’d tied with a ribbon at the back of her head fell over her shoulders.
Vincent froze, unable to move. Lady Wedgewood’s sister was slender, with hair the color of burnished gold that captured the reflection of the candlelight. He remembered twining his fingers through hair that same color. Remembered seeing hair as thick and lustrous fanned out on the pillow as he loomed over her.
When she lifted her chin to look out at her admirers, he saw that her complexion was clear and satiny. He remembered touching that skin, running his fingers down her cheeks, pressing his lips to her face.
He stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty. She was the Grace he’d been searching for. He didn’t dare blink for fear that he’d lose sight of her.
As if her gaze were drawn to him, she turned. Their gazes locked.
Recognition was instant. Her fear palpable.
The air rushed from his body and he couldn’t breathe. Her reaction was similar.
The color drained from her face and she reached out a hand to steady herself against the piano. Her breasts fell and rose, then fell again as she gasped for air.
He stared at her, struggling to recover from the shock.
She held his gaze for several seconds longer, then turned toward the nearest exit and bolted from the room.
Chapter 7
Grace ran down the hallway, desperate to reach the stairway before he came around the corner. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart thundered in her breast and her legs barely held beneath her. He was here. Heaven help her. He’d seen her. Recognized her.
She picked up her skirts to allow quicker movement. If she could make it across the foyer she could run upstairs and lock herself in her room.
Why, oh why, had she let her sister talk her into playing tonight? She should have known there was the slightest possibility the man Hannah had given her was a member of the ton. Someone who ran in the same circles as her sister and Wedgewood. Oh, why hadn’t she realized this possibility sooner?
Every muscle in her body trembled. What if he caught her? How could she ever face him after what the
y’d done?
She ran across the foyer and reached to clasp the railing on the bottom step. Nothing had turned out the way she’d intended. She’d known it was possible that her father would put her out but hadn’t really believed it would come to that. Just as she hadn’t considered she’d have to ask her sister if she might stay with her until she decided what she would do. And she never considered she’d come face-to-face with the man to whom she’d given her body. Face-to-face with the stranger with whom she’d lain and done the things she had. Face-to-face with the man who’d touched her until she cried out to him.
Her face burned with embarrassment, and she raced up the steps as fast as she could. She would rather die than have to face him again.
“Stop!”
Grace froze with her hand on the railing and her foot reaching for the next step. She swallowed a small cry of desperation and squeezed shut her eyes. Heaven help her, she couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She couldn’t.
Gasping a shuddering breath, Grace placed her foot on the next step and pulled her body upward. She prayed her feet would carry her away from him. Prayed he’d let her go.
“I. Said. Stop.”
Grace stopped. For several agonizing seconds she stood with her back to him. Her chest heaved and her lungs burned, partly from exertion. Mostly from fear. She’d been aware of the power that emanated from every part of him the night she’d lain with him. Knew that even though he was the most gentle and considerate of lovers, there was a formidable force that hovered about him. He was a man to fear. A man to be wary of. A man used to dominating everyone around him.
She sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and turned to face him.
Her heart jolted in her breast. He was the most magnificent example of masculinity she’d ever seen. And tonight, dressed in his formal black jacket and white satin cravat, he was breathtaking. The most handsome man she’d ever seen. And the most angry.