Page 81 of How to Tempt an Earl

Grace touched his cheek. “The club or this room?”

“Both.”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “No. They were both different.”

They had been. She hadn’t felt the bone-seated disgust or dislike of the casino floor when she’d been escorted on Ian’s arm. Neither did she feel the desperation or anger when he’d brought her to this room. She’d experienced other emotions entirely—excitement that he’d actually applied her recommendations, then desire and ecstasy in his arms. But now that her body had cooled, she began to wonder just what she wanted of him. A nagging guilt centered in her chest.

“I realize I have yet to take you in a bed, but I want to,” he said.

She understood. He wanted her forgiveness and acceptance. He wanted her to accept him as her husband. The earl who owned a gambling club.

Could she do it?

Did she have a choice?

“Ian, I’m grateful you shared your past with me. I’m even thankful that you showed me the Raven Club.”

She read the question in his eyes. Could she accept him?

The question hovered in the air between them but remained unanswered. She was afraid to bring up the topic and ruin the moment. He didn’t mention it. It seemed that the fate of the Raven Club would have to be addressed at another time. Another day.

Maybe she could look past all that she’d believed and lived…every miserable experience with her father…to be with Ian. She acknowledged he did good with the club’s profits, and the donations could be used to better the lives of children in need.

Yes, maybe the good outweighed the wretched sins.

He reached for her. “Let us go home.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“We know our brother can be difficult,” Ellie said, tucking an errant red curl behind her ear.

“It’s true,” Olivia said.

Grace sat in the parlor with Ian’s two sisters. A maid had brought in a tea tray, and the girls were nibbling tea cakes. Ian’s sisters looked lovely in pale pink and yellow muslin morning dresses. Ellie’s red hair was styled in loose curls, and Olivia’s golden hair was in a braided coronet.

It had been two weeks since Ian had taken her to the Raven Club—two weeks since they’d make love beneath the window overlooking the casino floor. Since then, they’d fallen into a routine. Ian was busy during the day and would leave each evening for the club, and Grace wouldn’t question his whereabouts. He’d return after midnight, slip into bed, and make passionate love to her. He was attentive and gentle in bed but unapproachable and distant in the day. It was maddening.

It was a routine, but an uncomfortable one. They never discussed his plans for the Raven Club, and she hadn’t visited the place since he’d invited her there in an effort to show her what the club meant to him. Her heart and mind were in tumult. She’d loved him, but he’d never told her he loved her.

She feared that Ian Swift loved only his club.

She’d grown terribly lonely in the big house. Grace had explored each room, the music conservatory, the ballroom with its chinoiserie décor, and she’d read a dozen books in the library. Mrs. Smithson was kind, as were all the servants, but they kept their distance from the new mistress. The servants had a repertoire that seemed odd to Grace, but it had been so long since she’d lived in a house with a full staff that she didn’t question it. With not much to do—her work for the widowed milliner had ceased upon her marriage—she was lonely and happy to visit Ian’s sisters.

“Ian is difficult, but we have seen changes in him since he met you,” Olivia said, drawing Grace’s attention back to the girls seated across from her.

Grace raised her teacup and took a sip of the oolong brew. “Oh?”

“He’s happier. He hasn’t taken us to Gunter’s since we were in leading strings,” Olivia said.

“Not that long.” Ellie frowned at her young sister.

“It certainly felt like it,” Olivia said.

Ellie set down her teacup. “Our point is that he smiles more, jests with us, is easy to talk to. It’s due to you.”

Grace felt uncomfortable beneath the girls’ hopeful expressions, and she smoothed the skirt of her blue silk walking dress. Ian rarely talked to her. Brooks would show up on the doorstep for Ian in the afternoon, and they’d discuss business in the study for hours. If she came across Ian in the vestibule or outside a room, he’d politely inquire about her day, then go on with his business. He’d leave in the evening for the club, but when he slipped into her bed at night, he became a different man. His kisses were gentle and passionate and took her breath away.

When she writhed beneath him, eager to touch his skin, he’d groan his pleasure and let her know how much he liked her boldness. Afterward, when they were breathless and spent, he would tuck her curves neatly into his own until she fell asleep in his arms, tenderly protected like a cherished wife. But the dreaded sunrise would arrive, and he’d again leave her alone in the house. The difference between Ian in the day and Ian at night was driving her crazed.