Grace calmed herself. The others who had left the salon returned, save her father and Lord Alexander. Aunt Dorothea reentered the room with an expression of glee sent in Grace’s direction.

Conversation flowed around her, about the upcoming entertainments and events of the ton, along with a great deal of speculation about some of the more recent gossip. Lady Charlotte complained about how everyone else could attend, but she was stuck in the schoolroom. Grace could think of nothing to add to the discussion, not knowing these people around her, and not truly having been exposed much to London society, so she chose to remain silent.

Lady Sophia moved across the room to sit beside her. “Grace, would you like to stroll about the room with me? You seem agitated. It might help to move.”

She breathed an unintended sigh of relief. “Oh, yes, that would be lovely.” They walked side-by-side, ignored by the rest of the company in the salon.

“I know we don’t know each other well, Grace, but I believe we’ll be good friends. More than friends, actually, since you’ll be my sister.”

“I’ve never had a sister before, Lady Sophia. I do not know how one should behave with one’s sisters.”

“Well to start, you ought to call me Sophie and leave the ‘lady’ behind,” she said with a kind smile and a firm pat on the back of Grace’s hand.

“All right, Sophie.”

“Excellent. And then you could tell me what’s really bothering you. I mean really, truly disturbing you. Sisters help each other. It’s part of some sort of unwritten rule book or something. Let me help you.”

Much like her mother, Sophie’s tone demanded attention—she would not be deterred. What was it about these Hardwickes that gave them such confidence, such eminence? It was certainly more than their station in society. Why, they weren’t all that much higher in rank than herself. And they didn’t comport themselves in a way that spoke to arrogance, simply one that commanded respect. If only one day, she too could walk with such an air of self-assuredness. Grace took a tentative look around the room to determine whether anyone else was listening in to their conversation.

“Your secret won’t be overheard. Char has them all well entranced.” Sophie slowed her gait and looked hard at Grace. “I won’t betray your confidence, you have my word. This will be between you and me, no one else.”

She swallowed. Grace wanted to trust Sophie, but trust had never come easy for her.

She leaned in and whispered up into Sophie’s ear. “I’m with child.” A fierce blush rushed to her face and she fought to maintain control over her emotions. It wouldn’t do to burst into yet another bout of hysterics. If only her emotions were not so close to the surface all the time, these days. Surely it would be easier to conceal them if they didn’t continuously amble their way to the forefront.

“I see.” Sophie didn’t appear shocked, which shocked Grace in turn. “And am I to understand the child is not my brother’s, and he is unaware of your circumstances?”

She expected censure in Sophie’s tone, but could detect no change. “Yes. I mean no.” Blast her nerves. She shook her free hand, trying to shake some of the nervous energy away. It only served to draw the attention of Lord Neil, which then sent her heartbeat to a full gallop, because the man’s face looked entirely too much like Lord Alexander for her comfort. “I mean yes, that’s what you should understand, and no, your brother is not aware, nor is he the father.”

“You’ve said you love my brother. Do you also love the baby’s father, Grace?” Her voice was soft, soothing.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” She shuddered at the thought.

“I should think you’d want to rush to the altar with Alex, then. I’m afraid I don’t understand the problem.”

Hearing such a thought from Sophie shattered her. Must the whole world conspire against her? She wished desperately she could find someone—anyone—who could understand her plight. “But I can’t. He can’t marry me.”

“Why? Help me understand, Grace.”

“Because…because he deserves better.” Her voice cracked. “He deserves a lady who hasn’t been ruined, who can give him his own children.”

A few moments passed. “Do you think he would agree with your assessment, Grace?”

Grace blinked. “I don’t know.”

“And what makes you think you won’t give him his own children? Or that he wouldn’t accept your child as his own? Actually, if you are already with child, after what I assume was your first encounter? If that is the case, then wouldn’t it be more reasonable to assume you will without a doubt be able to provide him with his own children?”

“Ah, well. Oh, why must you be so reasonable?” Blast Sophie for sneaking into her heart with that one, single speech, and aggravating her, all in one swoop. Everything was going against the plan.

“Because that’s what I do. That’s what sisters are for. We conspire together, we argue, we confide in each other, and we help each other to see reason. Get used to it. There’s much more to come.”

Too much more, if the course of the day didn’t take a drastic turn.

Sophie winked at her. “Well, I’ll tell you what I think about this whole situation. I think—”

She was cut off by the return of Lord Alexander and Grace’s father.

“Grace, I need to speak with you alone, please,” her father announced over the din of the room. “Your Grace, might I continue to use your library?”

The duke agreed, and Grace excused herself from Sophie to follow her father.

Once they were settled in the library, Father began. “Lord Alexander and I have just negotiated the terms for your marriage. He’ll ask you to marry him later this evening, and you will accept.”

The courage she’d found earlier in the day bubbled forth again. “No, Father, I won’t.” Where was this all coming from? It must be from being in the presence of so many others who were always so sure of themselves. The Hardwickes had been a very favorable influence on her, indeed. At least to her way of thinking.

“I beg your pardon? You will obey me, Grace. I’m still your father and your guardian, even if you won’t be coming back to live with me.”

“Yes, you are my father. And if you order me to marry him, I’ll be forced to obey. I’ll have no choice in the matter. But if he asks me, I assure you, I will refuse.”

“You don’t love him?” He looked bewildered, aghast.

“I do love him, which is precisely the reason I won’t marry him. He deserves better than me.” The pain of speaking the words out loud set her legs to shaking beneath her. Now was not the time to feel faint.

“But he compromised you. He admitted to me he’s done even more than that. Why would you refuse him?”

“Because he doesn’t know about the child, Father.” The words came out on a sob, and she berated herself for showing such weakness in front of Father.

“The child? Why should the bloody child matter? For all he knows, it could be his own.” He paused for a moment, seeming to search his mind. “Actually, he does know about the child. And he’s still agreed.”

“He knows? How does he know?” The room seemed to rock around her, like a ship on stormy water. She reached her hands out, grasping for something to hold onto, something to ground her, something to calm the tempest brewing in her head.

“Because I told him. He doesn’t care. The child is unimportant.”

Her child was not unimportant. And she absolutely, unequivocally would not marry any man who thought such a thing. She would leave. She would find a way. At least she would as soon as the floor stopped moving.

“Your wishes notwithstanding, I’ll not marry him. You’ll have to get by without however much blunt the man has promised you in exchange for me, though I cannot fathom how you have managed to extract anything from him at this point. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Why you impertinent—”

He broke off, but Grace knew what he intended to say. She raised her chin in defiance.

“You will marry him. If you don’t accept him on your own, I will command you to marry. You will obey.” He stalked from the room.

She moved to stare out the window, bracing herself on one piece of furniture after the other in order to keep her balance. If only she had paid more attention to their surroundings while she’d traveled with her aunt and uncle. It would be much easier to escape if she knew where to go.

But she absolutely would not marry a man who thought her child unimportant. A nuisance. Another man’s by-blow.

This was her child. She would have to find a way—some way—to give her the home she deserved.

Her. Grace was already thinking of the baby as a little girl. She took one hand from the window frame and held it against the slight swell of her belly.

I’ll find a way. Everyone in your life will love you, little one. You won’t grow up like I did.

Alex reentered his brother’s library where Grace was waiting for him. Chatham hadn’t told him about how their conversation had gone. He’d just left and told him she was ready.

Of course, she’d refused him before. But with her father on his side, she would change her mind. She would accept. Grace would marry him.

She stood by the picture window, staring out at the fading sun, one hand resting on the windowsill. Her black-as-night hair hung in a loose knot at the nape of her neck instead of her customary strict bun. A few tendrils wisped along her brow and tucked behind her ear. He didn’t want to break the beauty of the moment, the perfect picture standing before him. But she turned to face him, and her eyes pierced him through.

“Your father told me I might find you here to speak with you. Grace, I have something to ask you.”

He stepped toward her but she gave him no encouragement. When he reached her, he took her free hand in his own. His hand shivered from the chill of her fingers.

“I would like you to be my wife. I want to care for you, to have a family with you. We can live in Somerton and be near your aunt and uncle, and near Lord Rotheby. I can provide for you. I can make you happy, Grace.” He searched her eyes for something, anything. “Will you marry me?”

Her face showed no emotion, but she trembled beneath his touch. “No, my lord, I will not.”

A blow to the stomach would have been easier to accept. He released her hand to draw his own through his hair. Pivoting on his boots, he paced the library floor. What agony this was. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No, my lord. Nothing.”

He paced some more, grasping for anything to convince her to accept him. But he found no answer. “But the scandal.” Surely she couldn’t face the scandal surrounding her if she refused. The scandal of birthing a child while unmarried. Of being an unwed mother. Society did not favor such women.

“Scandal does not concern me, my lord.” Her voice was as cold and bereft as her eyes.

“What does concern you then, Grace?” His voice was rising, but he could do nothing to stop it. “What, pray tell, will put the passion back in your eyes and the heat back in your voice?” Even as he spoke, somehow her pale skin blanched further. “What will make you feel something? Anything?”

A piece of the ice chipped away from her eyes. “You think me unfeeling, my lord? Then why do you insist on continuing this charade?”

Deuce take it, could the chit not answer a simple question? Or several, as the case may be. “I most certainly do not think you unfeeling, because I have seen you feel. Nevertheless, I do believe you keep a tight cork on it all, at least where I am concerned.” Most of the time. She occasionally lost her tight rein over it with him.

And here he was answering her questions instead of getting answers to his own. Bloody hell. “Answer me. What can I do to get you to feel something? Must I resort to the same tactics as the last time we saw each other?”

“I feel. I feel an awful lot more than you do, you uncaring lout.” Her eyes widened in shock. Apparently she hadn’t intended to use that sort of language with him. Progress.

“And why am I an uncaring lout? I believe I’ve made my feelings more than clear to you. I want to marry you. I want you.” God, did he ever want her. Even with her cold demeanor, the air fairly crackled between them.

“Because…because…augh! Because my child doesn’t matter to you!” She drew away from the window to face him full on. “Because it is unimportant.”

He blinked. A rather unexpected development, indeed. Apparently Chatham had informed her that he was aware of her pregnancy. “Of course the child doesn’t matter. I want to marry you. Nothing will change that. How in bloody hell does that make me unfeeling?” Would he never understand her?

“Because it does! How could it not? If my child is unimportant to you, my lord, then I must also be unimportant to you. I will not have you. You may now cease your efforts, if you please.”

So very proper, even in a full rage. How enchanting! There was no wonder he loved the minx. “For your information, Grace, I never said the child was unimportant. Either your father did, or possibly you assigned that word to me, yourself.”

“Well, you agreed with it, didn’t you?” She placed both hands haughtily on her hips, assuming The Stance—the one his mother so often took when she required submission.

“I suppose technically I did. But I was unaware of your meaning when I agreed. Your child will never be unimportant to me. Never. I will love it as my own. I only meant that the fact of your being with child would not matter in the face of my desire to marry you. It changes nothing.”

“Hmph!” She still held The Stance like a professional. Grace must have learned quickly from the females in his family, in order to achieve such perfect disdain. It looked glorious on her.

“Will you marry me, Grace?” Surely now she would give in. What else could he do?

“I’ve told you already that I will not. Nothing has changed.” The fire fell out of her eyes, and what small amount of color had filled her face now fled.

“Well. May I escort you to your aunt and uncle in the salon?” Alex pulled his hand through his hair again and came away with some in his fist. She would be the death of him. There could be no doubt.

“That would be acceptable, Lord Alexander.” Her voice was thin. Grace stepped away from the windows into the library, shaking violently. Before she reached him, she collapsed into a dead faint.

Alex carried the unconscious Grace into the salon, instigating a flurry of activity. Bodies flew about the room.

“Goodness, what have you done to her?”

“Lay her down here on the sofa, Alex. Everyone stand back.”

“Is she quite all right? Peter, send for a doctor.”

He laid his prone charge across the sofa as directed and stepped away from her, allowing the women to see to her. He never removed his eyes from his love.

Char rushed about, ordering servants to bring water, blankets, cloths, and so many other items he couldn’t remember them all. Mama sat on the edge of the sofa, smoothing the hair away from Grace’s face. Sophie, ever calm, procured some tea and a bite for Grace to eat once she recovered from her faint. Neil, Derek, and Sir Jonas wisely stood out of the way, and Peter oversaw all of the activity. Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington were curiously absent, as was Chatham, leaving Alex’s family and friends to care for her.

Grace let out a soft moan, and her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

“Alex, did she hit her head when she fell?” his mother asked. “She winced when I touched her just there.”

“I—I don’t know. She may have. I didn’t get to her in time to catch her, Mama.” He ought to have caught her. He should never have allowed her to fall, especially in her condition. The baby! “Peter, we should send for a doctor.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Sophie said, her voice quiet but firm.

“But she—”

“But nothing. Grace doesn’t need a doctor, Alex. Please trust me on this.” Sophie lifted Grace’s head and settled herself beneath it. She crooned softly, imploring her to open her eyes and drink from a cup of tea.

“Why do you ladies seem so determined not to allow me to call for a doctor? First her aunt, and now you, Sophie.”

Mama interrupted his tirade. “This has happened before? She fainted before? Sophia, this isn’t normal. We must send for the doctor.”

“No, Mama, we can’t. She wouldn’t want a doctor.” Sophie’s voice held an edge of steel.

“How can you possibly know what she would want or not want?” Alex bellowed. “You’ve only known her a few hours. I’m sending for a doctor.” He pivoted on his heel and marched toward the door before he saw the huddle of males. “Better yet, Neil, go fetch a doctor. And take Derek and Sir Jonas with you. Hurry.”

“Stop, Alex. This is entirely normal since she is with child.” His sister hissed the words out as Grace’s eyes opened and squinted against the light, and another soft moan slipped past her lips. “I’m sorry, Grace, I had to tell.”

“With child,” Mama said, her words only a whisper. Grace looked up at her in confusion. “You carry my grandchild? Oh, how delightful! But we must plan the wedding immediately. There can be no delay. I can well understand your father’s hurry now, but I do wish Alex had informed me before now. Oh dear.” She sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’ll be a Grandmama again. You are such a dear girl. I’m so glad you will be my daughter.”

Grace sat up and blinked as she looked around, her eyes settling on Sophie with a combination of hurt and a plea for help. “No. No, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding? You aren’t with child?” His mother looked from Grace to Alex and back again.

“No, ma’am. Yes. Well, I am with child, but the child is not your son’s. And I won’t be marrying him. I’ll not be your daughter, ma’am.” She looked up to him with wide, sad eyes, silently pleading with him to explain. But how could he explain something he didn’t understand himself?

“You’ve refused him again? Oh dear. But, your father…” Mama’s words trailed off, and she looked up at him with an apology in her eyes.

“My father? What about my father?” Grace’s voice cracked just a bit, the only indication of her fear of the man amongst the haughty air she feigned.

“Why, he left with the Kensingtons to procure a special license. He expects the nuptials to take place tomorrow. Surely he expected you to accept Alex this time, or he wouldn’t have gone to such trouble. Would he?” Mama looked dubious. “He couldn’t have mistaken your intentions so badly as that.”

“I made myself abundantly clear to him, ma’am. I informed him that I would refuse if Lord Alexander asked me to marry him. The only way it will happen is if Father commands me to marry him, since he is still my guardian and I have no choice in the matter.”

Aha! She would marry him yet. Grace would be his.

“I’d like to speak with Grace alone,” he said to his family. “Please leave us.”

They filed out of the room, leaving him alone with his love. Sophie was the last to go, and she whispered, “I’m sorry,” to Grace on her way out the door.

“Your father will order you to marry me, Grace.”

“Yes.” She stared at the floor.

“Then why do you refuse? You could make it your choice, and not his. Why allow him to win?”

“Either way, you lose.”

“What?” He couldn’t temper the violence in his voice. “How could I possibly lose, when I’ll be married to you?

“You deserve better than me, my lord. You are too good for me by half. You ought not to feel honor bound to protect me, when there is nothing remaining to protect. I have no virtue. I have no dignity. I have nothing to give you.” Tears slid down her cheeks, one by one, dropping to darken the soft lawn fabric of her pale pink gown.

“But I want you. Is that not enough?” He ached for her. Ached for the shame she carried. Ached to wipe the tears from her eyes and the stain from her heart. Ached to undo the damage done to her by her father and Barrow, and anyone else who had ever hurt her.

Her mouth formed the word “No” but only a squeak came from her lips.

“Why? Tell me why. Allow me to understand.”

“Because it isn’t your child, my lord.”

“I know this. We’ve already discussed this.”

She looked pained at his interruption.

“I apologize. I won’t stop you again. Go on.”

She turned her gaze to her lap. “I haven’t been honest with you since I met you. I—I was ravished by Lord Barrow.”

He filled with rage toward the man and wanted little more than to hunt him down where the Regent held him and rip him limb from limb. But what he did want more than that was Grace.

“I am not a suitable bride for a man such as you. You must realize that.”

“And you must realize by now I’ve no intention of leaving you to yourself.” Alex paced again, taking long strides. “Why do you allow your pride to keep you from a marriage which could erase any hint of scandal, of impropriety?”

“Pride? You think my pride is the issue here?” Anger flashed blue flames in her eyes and she stood to face him. “I have no pride left. It’s been replaced by shame.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, glaring up into his eyes. “I can’t marry you because you deserve a wife who has a virtue to match your honor. And I will not marry you because you spoke only of caring for me, of providing for me, of making me happy. You spoke nothing of love.”

She pushed him back a step and advanced to fill the gap. “I will not spend my life married to a man because of duty and honor, who doesn’t love me as much as I love him.”

“You love me?” Alex’s jaw dropped.

The fire fled her eyes as realization of her admission struck her. “I didn’t say that.”

“You as good as did. You love me.” The words were a whisper as he leaned his head in toward hers.

Alex kissed her with all the love and longing that had been building in him since the first moment he saw her eyes through the door of a coach. His lips pressed against hers before he traced the line of her lips with his tongue. She pushed against him at first. But when his tongue slid inside her mouth and tangled with hers, she melted against him and sighed into his mouth.

His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her arms, against her derrière. He pulled her tight to him, his erection was hard and taut against the slight swell of her belly. He needed her, more of her, all of her.

She tasted of honey, all sweetness and warmth. He drank her in like liquor.

She whimpered against his mouth and wrapped her arms about his shoulders and neck, pulling her body ever closer. The heat between them roared to life.

And then Peter cleared his throat at the door. “Pardon me. I do hate to interrupt, Alex, but I believe Grace’s father has returned.”

He extracted himself from their embrace. She teetered and he placed an arm around her waist to secure her.

Her cheeks flushed and her lips were swollen, and she looked utterly divine. An urge to pull her from the room and above stairs to his bedchamber grew in his stomach, but he pushed it aside as once again the salon filled with people.

Chatham grinned, the first time Alex had ever seen the man smile. “I’ve secured a special license for you. You may marry immediately.” He took one look at his daughter and his visage changed entirely. “And you will marry him, Grace.”

Excellent.

She tugged against his grasp. He tightened his hold on her waist and pulled her closer.

“Very good, sir. We’ll marry in the morning.”

Grace glared up at him, pulled herself free, and marched from the salon.

And he still hadn’t talked to her about Priscilla and Harry. For that matter, he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do about them.

There was not much time left. He had to decide. Now.