was to laugh along with the jester. “Ah, well, if you put it that way … A thousand quid per annum, two maids and a shiny new phaeton. Oh, and diamonds, of course. A lady must have diamonds.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “Done and done, my lady. Only, you shall have two thousand, all the servants you like, plus a matched team to pull the phaeton.”
“Why, thank you!” she exclaimed with her widest smile. “But what of the gems, my lord? Does that break the deal?”
“No. Do you prefer blue or yellow stones?” He whirled her again, causing her stomach to flutter wildly.
“White diamonds,” she declared, leaning back and challenging him with her eyes. “You know, this is most entertaining. For you, that is to say. As for me, I should like to kick you in the shins and spit in your face. Manners prevent, however, so if you would kindly lead me back to my place by the wall and collect whatever sum you have riding on this farce, I would be most appreciative.”
He stopped dead still in the middle of the floor and stared down at her. The music faltered and the noise died down. With no apparent care for who was watching and listening, he took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “Lady Grace, you’ve quite stolen my heart and I cannot live without you. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” His voice was even deeper than before. And rather loud in the gathering hush.
A collective gasp shook the cavernous room. Someone dropped a violin and the strings pinged, the only other sound to be heard.
“Say you will have me, or my heart will break.” A stage whisper if she had ever heard one. It fairly echoed round the room.
Grace barely resisted the urge to throw back her head and laugh out loud. She had not laughed that way in so long, perhaps she had forgotten how, but the urge was there.
She glanced over the group surrounding them and saw Wardfelton had entered the ballroom and was standing there with his mouth agape. She realized at that moment she would do virtually anything to discommode him further. And anything to get away from him permanently, even if it landed her in a worse fix. Well, here was her chance.
She recalled the old expression, better the devil you know … Balderdash, that wasn’t so in her case. The devil she didn’t know could hardly be any worse than Wardfelton. She had nearly forgotten what it was like to live without constant terror. And for some unfathomable reason, she had no fear of Captain Morleigh. None at all.
Grace looked back into the eye of the presumptuous man who held her hands. Here was no devil, only a slightly disfigured fellow who doubted his appeal to women so devoutly he would settle for the one he thought most desperate. Well, he had found her right enough.
The description of him that Miss Thoren-Snipes had passed around had been widely dispersed, according to Grace’s companion earlier this evening. Perhaps Morleigh suffered more than anyone knew, especially if he was now reduced to pleading with the least-agreeable woman in the room to marry him.
He began to look hopeful then, taking her hesitation for wavering, she supposed. It certainly was that. She felt him draw her closer as he leaned down to speak privately. “All that I promised you, plus independence,” he whispered, then added, “no conditions attached.”
“None?” Yes, he was mad.
“Well, faithfulness, of course,” he said against her ear. “We will vow that much when we wed. But otherwise, you shall do as you please, go where you will, act as you choose.”
“Your word of honor?” she whispered back, actually considering it seriously. She might be trading one threat for another. Morleigh could beat her, lock her away or possibly get rid of her permanently as she was sure her uncle planned to do. Even as she thought that, it seemed more likely this man would simply leave her to her own devices if she displeased him. Or even if she didn’t. It certainly was a gamble, but she really had nothing to lose.
“Then yes,” she replied in a whisper.
“Louder,” he suggested. “That will make it official and irrevocable.”
“I will!” she declared, flashing her uncle a steely glare. “I would be honored to marry you, Captain Morleigh. My heart is lost and I simply cannot wait to be your wife.” Who cared if that sounded like a line from some mawkish play. So had his loud proposal.
Morleigh kissed her hands, each in turn and signaled to the orchestra. “Gentlemen, if you please, a celebratory waltz!”
Stunned, shaken, still feeling the urge to laugh wildly, Grace followed his lead until the music stopped.
Lord, she felt dizzy, overcome with heat from the exertion. The moment he released her to applaud the music, she swooned. Her last thought was that she had finally starved herself into wild delusions. This night could not be real.
Chapter Three
“Fetch a doctor!” shouted Caine. He felt her wrist for a pulse and found one. It seemed steady enough and only a trifle weak.
No one came forward to help. Highly unlikely that a mere physician would be present at the assembly, so he scooped her up in his arms and strode out, barking an order to have his carriage brought round on the instant.
“Where do you think you’re going with her?” Wardfelton demanded loudly. He followed them out the front entrance and scampered around to hamper Caine’s progress.
“She needs a doctor. I know one. Stand aside. She’s mine now.”
“She is not yours!” The man’s outrage seemed real enough. “I forbid this!” he shouted. “Put her down, I say!”
“Come with us if you’re worried about her. Otherwise, stand clear!”
Half the attendees had followed them out to the steps and stood transfixed. Better than a horse race or a boxing match, Caine figured. More food for gossip at any rate. He needed the audience, so he didn’t mind.
“Someone call the watch! This is abduction!” Wardfelton cried, wheeling right and left, searching for someone to interfere.
Caine faced him down, the lady’s inert form between them. “Lord Trent is my witness. He spoke for me and you did not deny my asking for her hand. I have done, and with intentions most honorable. She is of age to accept without your consent. Lady Grace will be properly chaperoned by my aunt, the countess of Hadley, until she recovers and then we shall be married.”
“This is absurd!” Wardfelton announced, still looking around for support amongst his peers.
“Is it? What is your objection, sir?” Caine noticed the carriage making way along the thoroughfare to where they stood at the edge of the steps. “I marry her not for money or property, for you and she both swear she has none. I admire her enormously and find her delightful.”
He appealed to the crowd, whose female members had just uttered a sigh and were looking rather dreamy eyed. “Beauty is as beauty does, you know. And she does beautifully so far as I am concerned.”
Another collective sigh and numerous eager nods of approval. As he meant them to, the women present were eating this up with a spoon.
His carriage now
