Page 9

As her gaze locked with Lord Richard’s blue eyes, she could hear her own breath rushing in and out, her pulse drumming in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear her own thoughts. Her nipples puckered and tensed, aching. She felt like she’d drunk a bottle of wine, light-headed, her feet barely able to feel the ground.

“Lord Richard,” she whispered, her voice strangely hoarse. “Do you want to be married to me?”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as a smile touched his face. “I do not know how to answer this question without offending you, Miss Grant.”

She scoffed. “Please, Lord Richard. Do not pretend a man like you is concerned with a woman’s honor.”

His eyes narrowed, and if she didn’t know better, she would imagine a slight expression of hurt crossed them. She sighed. “Let’s just drop the pleasantries. Our futures are on the line. Please, be truthful.”

“I am not sure that I can, Miss Grant.” Those lips, saying those words, each one like a caress against her skin…

She needed to shake off this stupor, this strange spell his presence had on her. “All right, if you will not speak the truth, then I will,” she said, her throat suddenly dry. “I do not want to be married to you.”

When his smile died and something dangerous crossed his handsome face, she shook her head. “Please. As though you’re so eager to wed. Wouldn’t a wife mean you must stop drinking and frequenting certain establishments not to be named in polite society?”

She should not have said this. She should not be alone with him, his chest touching her breasts, his scent so delicious she wondered if his skin would taste as good on her tongue as he smelled. She didn’t drink much at all, not even at dinners with Thorne, but she knew that feeling of intoxication she’d had a few times in the past from a glass of port, of weakness and of warmth—of freedom.

What he did to her was similar. Stronger. So much more delicious. Part of her, somewhere deep down between her legs, burned and ached.

“Do not mind me,” he said, his voice slow and velvety, his breath warm. “It is all about your comeback into society, is it not? That is what your brother wants for you. For you to sit among proper ladies of the ton and judge the movements of other people—searching for signs of weakness, of impropriety—and condemning them for the slightest mistake.”

Is that who he thought she was? He had no idea the very same society that had raised her had cruelly rejected her after Papa had died.

She needed to leave his dangerous proximity before that slow heat burning at the apex of her thighs consumed her whole. “You’re quite mistaken. I do not wish to return to society. My wishes lie elsewhere. Did my brother say anything else to you regarding this arrangement?”

His gaze slowly moved over her face and then down her neck and her bosom, causing a very noticeable onrush of heat up her chest and neck. “No,” he said. “Only what he told us both. I must publicly court you. The moment we’re wed, he will give me what I want. Information.”

That was the piece she didn’t know. “What information?”

“Your brother knows what happened to my oldest brother, Spencer. Last September, we thought he had been beaten to death by your brother’s men, and we buried him. Recently, we came to learn it wasn’t his body that was buried, and we hope he’s still alive. We hope to find him and retrieve him. Your brother promised to tell me about that in exchange for, well…marrying you.”

Jane’s skin tingled with shock. Thorne was ruthless, yes. But holding potentially life-saving knowledge hostage and forcing Lord Richard to marry her? She guessed she was quite naive and shielded from what her brother’s true activities were. He had his own moral and ethical code that she didn’t always understand. But she loved her brother. Despite everything that he did, he took care of her, of the people around Whitechapel, and he had helped her build her school without a moment of hesitation. He loved her so much, he had even paid parents to allow their children to go to the school so that she had someone to teach.

Jane’s mind raced, weaving through possibilities and consequences. If she could help Lord Richard without endangering her brother or her future, perhaps they could both escape this unwanted fate.

“Hmm…” She tapped on her lower lip with her finger, and he watched her finger with the fascination of a cat hunting a mouse. “Maybe it doesn’t have to come all the way to marriage.”

“That was what I was hoping.”

“What would you do to Thorne once you have what you seek? Would you pursue him legally?”

Lord Richard let out a long breath and shook his head once. “Someone like your brother needs to be punished for hurting innocent people.”

That killed all Jane’s feelings of attraction towards him. “My brother was excluded from his rightful place because of society’s foolish rules. Whatever wrong he has done he has also done much good. I can’t let you hurt him.”

“But Miss Grant—”

“I’ll help you find out what happened to your brother before two weeks expire,” she said while guilt gnawed at her. She would be acting against her brother’s interests, but he’d acted against hers by arranging this marriage. Besides, by withholding the facts, Thorne was being quite unfair to Lord Richard’s brother, who may be in peril. “And then we can break off the engagement. But you must promise not to hurt Thorne. Not to criminally pursue him. Not to set the Bow Street Runners on him. If I help you find out what fate befell Spencer, can you promise me that?”

Lord Richard’s blue gaze rested on her for a long while. Then he nodded slowly. “I promise I won’t pursue Blackmore. I have no interest in hurting anyone.”

“And please promise me no one will know but the two of us that we’re not truly engaged. I’m afraid it would get back to Thorne. He seems to know everything one way or another.”

“That is clever, Miss Grant. I promise.”

Jane could breathe easier. If only his presence let her think clearly.

“May I suggest,” he said, “that you act as if you are, in truth, in love with me. In front of the ton and especially in front of my family.”