“Oh?” Rebecca silently thanked God for her ability to keep her voice steady. She would not appear weak in front of her aunt by allowing her despair to show.
“He has asked that we join him later today.” Lady Grifton’s gaze met Rebecca’s with cold menace. “We depart for London in an hour, so I suggest you start packing.”
“But what about the settlement?” Surely there had to be a way to delay this. If she left now, she’d lose all hope of marrying Daniel instead.
“We are to meet His Grace at Grover House for precisely that purpose. Once that is done, it’s off to the altar with you.” Her aunt sashayed across to the door, where her pudgy hand found the handle. “Do I detect a bit of trepidation?” She grinned mockingly as she opened the door. “Your acting skills aren’t what they used to be, Rebecca. I can see right through that stoic façade of yours.”
The door closed and Rebecca realized for the first time that her whole body was trembling. Lord help her, she’d never been so livid.
“I’m so sorry,” Laura said from the other corner of the room.
“They will not win,” Rebecca muttered, her mind already working on seeking a means of escape. “I’ll find a way to stop this, no matter what.”
“But if we’re to go to London today and His Grace is procuring a special license, then I’m sure he means to marry you tomorrow at the latest,” Laura said.
“You’re probably right.” Getting up, Rebecca started to pace about the room. If she could only delay the duke’s plans enough to find a solution. She considered her options, and as she did, an idea began to take shape. If she could pull it off, then this would be yet another impressive scheme. Her adventurous spirit soared, and she turned to Laura with a smile. “I believe I have a plan.”
Seated on a lovely settee of light blue silk, Rebecca waited patiently for her intended to make his appearance. He’d been ensconced in his study for the past hour with her uncle and two lawyers, finalizing the financial aspects of the marriage—the settlement and the transfer of fifteen thousand pounds from Grover’s bank account to her uncle’s. From what Rebecca understood, the costs involved with the rehabilitation of Roselyn Castle would be charged directly to Grover. There was no doubt that her aunt and uncle had made a coup, though Rebecca was convinced that Grover was equally pleased with his end of the bargain, for there had been no end to the lascivious smiles he’d given her.
Rebecca squirmed on the inside just thinking about it, but on the outside she managed to remain calm as her mind busied itself with her plans of escape.
“And it’s teeming with servants,” Rebecca’s aunt said. Since arriving at the duke’s residency she’d been prattling on about how good His Grace had been to rent a splendid town house for them to live in during their stay in London.
The door opened and Grover stepped into the parlor, followed closely by Rebecca’s uncle. The duke smiled at Rebecca, eyes gleaming with unabashed greed. “Everything has been settled and we can finally focus on the wedding.”
“What splendid news.” Rebecca was pleased with how happy she sounded. She met his gaze. “Perhaps we could have a moment alone together, Your Grace? With everything that’s been happening, we’ve hardly had a chance to talk to each other.”
“Of course, my dear.” His voice was silky as he turned to Rebecca’s aunt and uncle. “If you’ll please excuse us.”
“But we—” Rebecca’s aunt began, suspicion flickering in the gray depths of her eyes as she glared at Rebecca. Clearly she didn’t trust her and was unwilling to accommodate her request.
“The door will remain ajar,” Grover said, cutting her off. He then swept his hand toward the exit. “If you please.”
“Very well,” Rebecca’s aunt conceded as she straightened her back and stood up. “If that is what you wish, I see no reason to object.”
Rebecca waited for them to leave before turning her attention on her fiancé. “Will you come and sit with me?” she asked, patting the empty seat beside her.
Grover beamed. “With great pleasure.” The emphasis he placed on the word pleasure would have given anyone with less resolve cause to reconsider, but Rebecca was determined to do what she must, more so now than ever before. Time was running out.
Placing her hand over Grover’s, she turned to him with a pleading gaze. “Your Grace, I understand your eagerness for haste in regards to our marriage, but I was rather hoping that I might convince you to offer me a boon.”
A frown appeared upon his brow, but then he lowered his gaze to the rise and fall of her bosom and all signs of concern were immediately erased. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a moist kiss against each knuckle while Rebecca did her best to remain still. She could not allow her distaste for the man to show. “I suppose it is the least I can do for you,” he murmured, “considering what you will be offering me later.”
She shuddered to think of it and sincerely hoped that it would never come to that.
“I was hoping that you would consider hosting an engagement ball, Your Grace.”
Grover leaned back, his frown returning. “I see no need for that, my lady, though you are more than welcome to host as many balls and soirees as you desire once you are duchess.”
“That is most generous of you, but don’t you think it would be wise to quench any suspicions that the ton may have regarding our marriage? Would it not be best to assure them that I am marrying you because I wish to and because the union is beneficial to us both?”
“My dear, I may be old, but I am not a fool. We both know that you would likely have preferred a young buck if given a choice.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I also appreciate the value of experience . . . and to be perfectly honest, money. I believe that Your Grace has both in ample supply.” Lowering her lashes, she delivered a shy smile.
“Unquestionably,” Grover replied. He licked his lips, leaned closer to her and said, “If it weren’t for your aunt and uncle, I’d be happy to give you a little demonstration right now. Even more reason to hasten things along if you ask me.”
Rebecca forced back the urge to leap from her seat and run screaming out of the room. “Your Grace,” she said, her face feeling hot. “You really mustn’t say such things. It’s highly inappropriate.”
Grover chuckled. He ran his leathery index finger along the length of her arm. “What a pleasure it is to see that I can so easily affect you,” he said, mistaking her mortification with something else entirely. “You’re so pretty when you’re all flushed and excited.”
Yuck!
“Well, your words are quite . . . ahem . . . suggestive. However,” she said, determined to move on quickly before he attempted to kiss her or, God forbid, worse, “I do believe that showing a mutual desire to marry will be to our advantage—especially if we are to marry by special license. Once the ton sees that we have come to an understanding with each other, they will have no reason to spread rumors.”
“You think that I care if they say that I married a fortune hunter? I’m a duke, for heaven’s sake. They can say what they please.”
This was not going as well as she’d hoped. “I care, Your Grace. I’m young and not nearly as good at dealing with such things. I’m afraid that if you marry me like this and without giving the ton a chance to at least see me beforehand, they’ll make the worst assumptions about me. Please try to understand that I am relying on you to help me.” She squeezed his hand a little. “All I want is for us to be happy.”
Grover sighed. “I can see how troubled you are by all of this, so if having a ball to stop the gossips’ tongues from wagging will ease your concerns and allow you to focus your energy on me instead, then I suppose I can accommodate your wish.”
“You are most kind, Your Grace.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You have two days in which to make the necessary arrangements, after which I want to see you in church. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly. I will get to work on the invitations without further delay.”
Grover’s lips drew up to show a set of yellow, uneven teeth. “And I will do my best to keep my longing for you at bay.”
Fearing any further contact with the man, Rebecca slipped out from beneath his heated gaze, stepped toward the door and dropped into a deep curtsy. “You flatter me, Your Grace, and I thank you for it. But if there is to be a ball this Friday, then I have much to attend to.” She offered him her most benign smile and began to heap on the compliments; the benefits of flattery were not to be dismissed. “To be frank, I wasn’t very pleased when my aunt and uncle decided to choose my husband on my behalf, but I have since come to realize that they were wise in doing so. You have shown yourself to be magnanimous, and I have every confidence that you will make a most excellent husband.” Pausing for emphasis, she then added, “It will be an honor to be the mother of your children.”
Later that night, after writing over a hundred invitations that would be mailed out in the morning, Rebecca considered her conversation with Grover. The lies she’d told him didn’t sit well with her, yet she didn’t regret what she was about to do. In spite of what she’d said, Grover was just as selfish and lowly in character as her aunt and uncle. He’d practically bought her, for heaven’s sake, and his disgusting insinuations regarding what he required her for were abhorrent.
Closing her eyes, she thought of Daniel and dearly hoped that he found her note and would still be willing to help. With their last conversation in mind, she believed that he would, for he’d seemed sincere in his promise, and the kiss they’d shared . . . well, that had been quite something. Warming at the memory of it and hopeful that he would come and save her, Rebecca finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 11
Having asked a footman for a glass of brandy in favor of the champagne that everyone else was drinking, Daniel looked out over the crowd of people who had thronged together at Grover House and decided that he was positively sick of attending balls. Every inhabitant of Mayfair, it seemed, was in attendance, no doubt curious about the woman who would soon become Duchess of Grover.
The footman returned with the brandy, and Daniel took a long sip. Having arrived late, he’d yet to catch a glimpse of Rebecca, who was probably somewhere deep within the crush. If only he’d asked her to run away with him as soon as she’d agreed to do so, they could have been married by now, but he’d wanted to give her time to prepare, certain that there were things she wished to take with her. How was he to know that Grover would make a change of plans? At least Rebecca had left a note, though he’d almost missed it in the darkness, wedged as it had been between the window and its ledge. And then Laura had arrived at the small apartment he rented on Hill Street. Without crossing the threshold, she’d handed him an invitation for this evening, along with yet another note detailing Rebecca’s plan in the hope that he would still be willing to help. Of course he was, not just because he needed a wife but because he’d begun to realize that he was completely mad for this lively woman who’d decided to take her future into her own hands.