“It was only after I was reunited with my mother that I learned the true reason they had been fleeing that night. My father intended to force Cassandra to wed his political ally, a renowned lecher thrice her age. Cassandra was not yet fifteen.”
Grace pressed her hand to her mouth, as if she was about to be ill. Well, she should be, considering the ugly truth. “How horrid.”
“My mother risked everything to stop the wedding. In the end, she managed to do so, despite being interred in that asylum.”
“So that is why you and Cassandra clash,” Grace said. “But you were a boy when all of this occurred. Yes, you were involved, but your father was responsible. You were his victim, too.”
“I was no child when Penelope determined to find out what really had happened to our mother. I tried to stop her. I threatened her.” The words were like knives scoring his skin. “I am not proud of it.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“I didn’t want Simon to find out the truth. I do not…form attachments easily. But my brother…” He stopped, swallowing hard. “For years we’d only had each other. Then, he finally learned that I had been lying to him the whole time.”
“Oh, Lucien…it all must have been horrible for someone as young as you were then.” Empathy filled her gaze, along with something he couldn’t quite name. “I still believe you can make things right with Simon and Jane. Even with Cassandra. Ask pardon, make amends.”
“I have done. As best as I am able.”
He could see Cassandra’s face, hear the loathing in her voice.You want to make amends? Stay away from Everdene Hall…
He could tell Grace about his promise now. Would she be so compassionate when she realized that he would live at one of his estates in Lancashire, hundreds of miles away. And she would likely have to join him?
No.
He had seen the betrayal in Cassandra’s eyes, condemnation he richly deserved. He needed more time before he had to witness that emotion in Grace.
But it was inevitable, wasn’t it? Once she learned how he’d ‘made amends’ to his sisters by vowing to stay away from Everdene Hall. Grace had only married him to live here, close to her brothers.
He watched her, silent as she tenderly spread salve on the wounds, then wrapped them in a clean bandage. Impulsively, she kissed the knuckles of his injured hand. Her bodice slid off one shoulder. “Oh, bother!” she said and Lucien gently slid the cloth back into place.
“The laces in the back of my dress became hopelessly tangled when I tried to pull my bodice up and refasten it after we heard the noise. There is no way I can sleep this way. Would you be willing to help unfasten them—if it wouldn’t pain your hand too much.”
“It wouldn’t pain me.” Not exactly true. It would be exquisite torture, awakening all of those tumultuous feelings that had boiled to the surface before Avery had appeared.
Yet Lucien would take any excuse to touch Grace’s velvety skin. His need for her was fiercer than ever.
With an endearing smile, she turned away from him, scooped the silky tresses out of his way, baring her neck and a tempting slice of her back. Perhaps it was best that they had beeninterrupted earlier. He’d teetered on the precipice of something that alarmed him then. The conversation he’d overheard with Avery made the danger greater still…
With great care, Lucien began to untangle laces and hooks and eyes, picking loose the knots. He let his fingertips linger on the pearl-like bumps of her spine beneath the muslin of her chemise, the delicate wing of her shoulder blade. When the task was done, he imagined unfastening her corset as well and lifting the chemise over her head. But no.
She turned to face him and glanced at his bed. He could see his desire echoed in her eyes, her curling lashes at half-mast. He clasped her wrist with his thumb and forefinger, rubbing a slow circle on the sensitive place where her pulse beat.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he wondered if she had any idea what the nervous gesture did to him. He wanted to gently nip that full lower lip, kiss his way to her earlobe.
Forget…
“I—I had better go,” she murmured. “I need to be there when Avery wakes up. I wouldn’t want him to be frightened.”
“No.” Lucien’s voice roughened with unspent need. He forced himself to uncurl his fingers from her wrist.
He opened the door to the adjoining bedroom, and she disappeared through it. He watched her cross the room to sit in the chair she’d drawn over beside her bed. She picked up the boy’s small hand.
Aren’t you lonely here…Avery’s question to Grace seemed to taunt Lucien. More poignant still, her answer.
Yes. I am…
What could Lucien do about it?
Certainly nothing here, even with his family returning soon. Simon had written that Cassandra was in a state when they left. It had not taken much imagination to guess why. Had Cassandraplanned to tell Grace the role he’d played in the destruction of their family?
