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Again, he had received no acknowledgment of the gift or card.
Deciding that perhaps the third time he might be lucky, that same afternoon he had visited a jeweler and purchased an emerald-and-diamond bracelet with matching earbobs. The emeralds would perfectly complement the color of Grace’s eyes. Surely no woman could resist the sparkle of diamonds. He knew better than to choose a necklace to go with them, aware as he was that Grace always wore that gold heart-shaped necklace about her throat.
The gift of jewelryhadbeen returned to him, but with no word of explanation as to why.
Although Alaric could take a guess on Grace being unwilling to accept such an expensive gift from a gentleman who was not her lover.
Her true lover had visited her again yesterday evening and would no doubt have demanded an explanation, if Redding had seen either the bracelet or earbobs, for those expensive items being in his mistress’s possession.
Alaric had made the mistake last night of once again keeping watch himself outside Grace’s modest home. Not because he had any wish to put himself through the torture of imagining what was going on behind those closed curtains. No, he did so because he couldn’t bear the thought of one of Stanley’s men later speculating to his friends, no doubt raucously so, as to what the lovers were doing together.
Whatever those actions might be, Redding had left two hours after his arrival, as was his habit, and once again with that infuriating jauntiness to his step.
Alaric had forced himself to leave shortly after the earl. If he hadn’t, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from crossing the street, knocking on Grace’s door, and demanding she banish Redding from her life and become Alaric’s mistress instead.
He had been unable to sleep again last night, but neither had he felt the least inclination to stroke his cock to completion when all he could think of, all he could see, were visions of Grace and Redding being intimate together.
Aware this situation could not continue, this morning Alaric had invited Grayson Vaughn, the Duke of Flint, to meet him for luncheon at their club. Not as easy to arrange as it had once been now that Flint spent the majority of his time with his betrothed as they organized the numerous plans necessary for their wedding the following week.
Alaric had asked for this meeting with Flint in the hope he might be able to shed some insight into how he might redeem himself in Grace’s eyes when his gifts of apology remained unacknowledged.
Not an altogether futile hope, Alaric had believed, when Flint was about to marry the young ladyhehad used shamelessly in order to reach the man who had been his quarry in the investigation into Plymouth’s murder.
Flint now gave a shake of his head as he scowled across the dining room to where four young peacocks were talking far too loudly as they drank more than they ate. “I have no idea why that young gentleman irritates me so much, only that he does.”
Alaric knew exactly which young gentleman his friend was referring too. Robert Granger, cousin to their friend the Duke of Plymouth and duke in his place following his death, was by far and away the most garishly dressed and noisiest of the four men across the room.
He gave a rueful smile. “I think Granger annoys all of us simply by existing.”
“Perhaps,” Flint dismissed before returning his attention to Alaric. “I fail to see why you felt the need for such subterfuge with Miss Sunderland in the first place, when she is quite clearly Redding’s mistress. As such, both her loyalty and body can, and no doubt have, been purchased by the highest bidder— I advise, Melborne, unless you wish to receive a broken finger or two in the next few seconds, that you take your hand from about my throat,” Flint bit out in a measured tone, his gray eyes as flinty as his name as he stared unblinkingly at Alaric, one eyebrow raised in arrogant challenge.
Alaric’s response had been purely instinctive when Flint talked about Grace in such a derogatory manner. So much so, Alaric hadn’t even been aware of having moved, let alone of placing his hand about Flint’s throat, until he heard the other man’s threat of retaliation.
He quickly removed his hand to glance about them, grimacing when he saw that several other club members in the dining room—including Granger and his three friends—were now sending disapproving or, in the case of the four peacocks, curious glances their way.
The two of them might both be dukes, and as such given a certain amount of leeway in their behavior, but one of them trying to strangle the other during luncheon was apparently a step too far.
Alaric gave a self-disgusted shake of his head as he dropped back into his seat on the opposite side of the table. “I apologize,” he bit out stiffly.
“As do I,” Flint murmured sincerely as he straightened his neckcloth. “I would not have made a less than polite comment about Miss Sunderland if I had known you are so deeply enamored with her.”
Alaric believedenamoredwas far too milksop a word to describe what the depth of his attraction to Grace had become.
His previous use of the word obsession was far more accurate.
Alaric thought about her…all the time.
Imagined her in bed with him…all the time.
Wished to make love to her…all the time.
The latter to the degree he often felt light-headed from the blood rushing into his throbbing cock merely from thinking of her. Which, as Alaric did that all the time, meant he walked around with a constant cockstand and little blood in his head to control his thoughts and instincts.
The light-headedness might also be attributed to the fact he still lacked an appetite for anything that did not include Grace. All he could think about was kissing, licking, biting every silken inch of her as he claimed her, before hedevouredthe flow of nectar between her thighs.
Flint frowned. “Have you tried simply explaining to her that you and Plymouth’s other four closest friends are trying to hunt down his murderer?”
He gave his friend a mocking glance. “Is that what you did in your dealings with Miss Hall?”
