Grace tucked the note on her dressing table, wanting to read it in privacy, trying not to imagine her mother’s disappointment regarding her unconventional marriage, even if she might understand Grace’s reasons…“I hope so.”
Lady Ravenscroft straightened a bit of lace at Grace’s throat. “I have rarely seen my son pause long enough to look at anything or anyone until he became entranced with you.”
Grace swallowed hard and forced a smile, unable to bear lying to this woman with her kind, haunted gaze. “You are mistaken. This marriage…it is…a very practical…”
“You needn’t try to explain. Lucien has made certain I understand this is merely a marriage of convenience between you. So emphatically that I believe he is trying to convince himself.” The countess smiled, a rare, sweet curve of her lips. “He is not half so cold as he seems. He never loved as easily as my other children, and my husband did his best to stamp out any hint of tenderness in his heir.”
Lady Ravenscroft paused, as though unsure whether or not to continue, but continue she did. “After the trouble that dividedour family, Lucien resolved he would not love at all. And, yet, I catch glimpses of longing in him so poignant it breaks my heart.” This time, she looked Grace in the eye, perhaps to make sure she was truly listening. “Do not be mistaken. Hewillresist true attachment in your marriage. But I believe that you may awaken him to life once again, challenge the dark places in my boy’s past. It is a chance I had all but despaired of. A hope…that my son will not remain trapped in this self-imposed prison.” Her voice cracked, and she paused for a moment, seeming to gather herself as she glanced at the clock. “Well, that is enough of my rambling. The carriage is waiting. Lucien went ahead to make sure everything is in order.”
For a moment, Grace felt a flare of hope. She remembered the moment in her bedchamber, how passionate Lucien had been, until that last moment.
Was it possible the countess was right? That he was beginning to care for her? Moreover, what was this feeling she had for him?
She was aboutto become Lucien Harcourt’s wife, the day passing like a whirlwind, almost a dream…one she half-expected to wake from at any moment.
In truth, it did not even feel like a real marriage at all, with no friends or family attending, only Lady Ravenscroft at her side. St. George’s Church on Hanover Square seemed so empty, the barrel-vaulted ceiling echoing Lady Ravenscroft’s words of praise and affection, Lucien and the bishop waiting, as reflections of the stained-glass window scattered on the floor like broken pieces of the family she had yet to confront.
Lucien took her hand and Grace forced her own to remain steady, while her heart raced…
The bishop looked past them to Lady Ravenscroft, the lone witness sitting in the pew. “Does anyone know of an impediment why these two should not be joined in matrimony?”
The bishop’s query released a litany that ran riot in Grace’s mind.Does it count if our fathers both hate this union? Or that Lucien does not love me…? That I do not know him…?
She could not shake off a feeling of dread when she pictured her father’s face once he learned of the elopement, the hurt and betrayal to come.
A moment of echoing silence pressed down upon her, then Lucien made his vows in a brisk voice, placing his ring on her finger.
“Be kind to each other,” Lady Ravenscroft said, embracing Grace, and then her son, before bustling ahead to Raven’s Court to prepare a wedding luncheon.
The bishop led them to the church register, and Grace watched Lucien sign his name, his signature bold, confident. She took the pen in her own hand, inscribing her name on the page that would link her to Lucien Harcourt until death…
As they left the church, she looked over at the man who was now her husband. He was under complete control, every inch the Elusive Viscount, all hints of the man who, last night, had all but made love to her hidden away.
“We will still return home as planned, won’t we?” she asked, eager to get the confrontation with her father over with.
“We will remain in town. It is enough to send a note with your stepmother.”
She grasped his sleeve, distressed. “That won’t do. I must tell my father and my brothers myself before anyone else can.”
He looked over at her, his brow furrowed. “I understood that you wished to avoid more family drama?—”
The words were cut off by a thick brogue bellowing from the crowd. “There ’e be! Lord Everdene, greedy bastard! Death to landlords!” She saw a blur as something hurtled toward them.
Lucien whirled her away, shielding her with his body as a missile hurtled past, catching in a flounce of her dress. Pain shot through her foot as something struck her slipper, then rattled to the cobbles.
A shout went up from the onlookers, Lucien’s footmen giving chase, but the perpetrator vanished in the crowd.
Lucien turned Grace in his arms, the controlled veneer gone. “Are you hurt?” he demanded. the hard planes of his handsome face fierce with protectiveness.
“Jesus, Grace!” Another familiar voice cut in as a man pushed through the startled onlookers. She looked up to see Neville racing toward them.
Lucien stiffened at the sight of her former betrothed. “What are you doing here?”
“When Pinchbeck stopped by to present you our business plan this morning one of your servants let slip where you’d be. I wished to be on hand if Grace…changed her mind.”
“As you can see,” Lucien said, his voice taking on an edge she’d not heard before, “she did not.”
Neville reached down and retrieved a half a brick with something wrapped around it. “And, yet, you are already putting her in danger.”
