CHAPTER1
Kent, England—July 1819
Grace knew attending the house party would be a mistake, which was confirmed when she found herself pinned against a bookshelf in the back of the library, struggling to get away from the hostess’s inebriated brother.
“Thomas, please, you’re drunk,” Grace implored. “You’ve known me since I was fifteen years old, and I know you will regret this in the morning,” she said, adopting an amiable tone in hopes of making her appeal seem reasonable and slowing his impending figure.
She felt a hard and unrelenting pressure as the shelf bit into her hip. Thomas had cornered her into the back of the library after discovering her there, and his body was now uncomfortably close. Leaning heavily over her, he forced her further into the bookcase than she thought possible. She was certain to have a bruise on her hip in the morning.
The reasonable element of the negotiation tactics she had been trying to employ quickly became less viable with each second as Thomas continued to creep even closer, causing Grace to shiver in revulsion as the buttons of his waistcoat pressed into her stomach one by one. The smell of whiskey was evident on his breath, and she tried to repress a further shudder when the fine hairs on her temple stirred from a puff of air as he exhaled. “You weren’t this pretty when you were fifteen,” he slurred into her ear.
Grace berated herself for being in this position in the first place. It had been foolish to accept the invitation to the house party when she was already in a precarious social position, but desperate people tended to make impractical decisions. Being unable to sleep in an unfamiliar room and unsettled by her poor choices, she headed down to the library for a book.
Usually, reading helped Grace quiet and focus her mind so she might be able to get some rest. She had rationalized that with the house still mostly empty, having arrived a day before many of the guests, it was not too great a risk to wander downstairs. Now, looking into the half-lidded eyes of the young man she had not seen in close to a decade, she feared her decision to ignore propriety by walking around in her night clothes could make her situation even worse.
Grace wondered what had happened to Thomas in the intervening years that would make him act in such a manner. His expression, unfocused as it was, contained a contradictory mix of lust and derision. It was as if she, being a woman, was so far beneath him as to not be worth his notice—yet he still desired her.
“Thomas, stop this,” Grace beseeched once more. She hated how her voice was beginning to tremble, making her sound weak. Just when she feared the situation was nearing a point of no return, Grace felt Thomas’s movements stutter and then halt. He stiffened infinitesimally. Before she knew what was happening, a hand appeared on his shoulder, gripping firmly.
“I believe the lady asked you to stop,” a voice said from behind Thomas. Grace could not see the man who had spoken, but his voice had been low and controlled, making it feel like a command that would be dangerous for Thomas to ignore.
“And who the hell are you?” Thomas spat with a sneer, turning to face the stranger.
“Henry Ellison, the fifth Duke of Carrington,” the stranger replied coolly.
Thomas released her with a start, eyes widening as the gravity of this declaration and its icy delivery bore down on him. And Grace, free of his grip, could now see the duke with his cutting glare and clenched jaw directed at Thomas.
“I didn’t know you had arrived, Your Grace. I was just having a little fun,” Thomas replied with a laugh, failing to lighten the tension. “Catching up with an old friend of the family. Haven’t seen Grace in years and wanted to let her know how much we missed her,” he continued, unable to mask his slurred speech.
“Perhaps it might be best to share how much you missed her in the morning, when everyone is refreshed and has a clear head, don’t you think?” Carrington was still calm but had taken command of the situation, his gaze never wavering from Thomas, who was wilting under the pressure like a flower in full July sunlight.
While the duke had yet to glance at Grace, she felt his protection acutely and was thankful he had intervened, though she resented being unable to control the situation on her own. It was apparent from Thomas’s actions thus far that he respected the power of a duke far more than the protests of a woman.
Grace recalled that, even as a young man, Thomas shared his father’s belief in the social structure of the aristocracy. They had kowtowed to those above them in the peerage, attempting to earn favor and bolster their own social standing among theton. As a second son to a baron, even at the tender age of thirteen when she first met him, Thomas clearly demonstrated he felt himself lacking; Grace was sure he would do anything to increase his standing in the eyes of those he esteemed.
The sad reality was that Grace needed the duke’s intervention, as much as she hated relying on others. There were a few women within polite society who had the power to use their influence within theton, but Grace was not one of them. And with an elite nobleman now standing up for her, Thomas had no option other than to retreat.
“Of course, Your Grace. Tomorrow would be a much more hospitable setting for renewing acquaintances,” Thomas acquiesced. “Can I help you find something here in the library to make your stay more comfortable?” he asked with a touch of desperation.
“No,” Carrington said. “I believe it would be best if everyone called it a night. I will see you again in the morning, sir,” he said with finality.
Having been dismissed, Thomas bowed his head with a look of unease before backing out of the room.
Still somewhat shaken, Grace slowly straightened away from the bookcase and attempted to compose herself. Now that Thomas was gone, a wave of embarrassment began to engulf her. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks as she began to blush, an unfortunate and frequent reaction of hers, and found she could not bring herself to look directly at the duke, even though she wanted to thank him.
“Are you alright?” Carrington asked softly, not wishing to further agitate her.
At his gentle tone, Grace was appalled to feel tears forming and knew she would need to leave soon to avoid crying in front of him. Carrington’s kindness, a sentiment she was no longer used to receiving, would surely be her undoing, so with downcast eyes, she whispered, “Yes. I am well. Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Are you injured? Is there someone I can get for you?”
The thought of bringing anyone else into the situation made Grace’s pulse quicken. The last thing she needed was for word of this to spread. Raising her eyes to the duke, she implored, “No, please, I am well. I do not need anyone. I just need rest. I’ll be on my way.” He must have seen the anxiety in her eyes because he did not press her further.
Holding his gaze, fully seeing him for the first time, Grace had to catch her breath. He had kind, deep-gray eyes and chestnut hair that waved across his forehead, with stubble accentuating his perfectly angled jaw. Though he was one of the handsomest men she had seen in a long time, it was his demeanor that transfixed her: his forehead was creased out of concern for her well-being, and while he was much taller than her, he was not intimidating, his stance having softened with Thomas’s departure. She felt safe in his presence, even when considering what had just transpired with Thomas, as well as her general unease around titled men.
“Very well,” he said, eyes searching her own to discern her truthfulness. “If you are certain you’re unharmed, I will see you to your room and make sure you remain undisturbed.”
Wishing to escape the foreign and unsettling effect of his kindness, she protested, “I assure you, Your Grace, I am fine to make my own way back. I apologize for inconveniencing you this evening, but I am grateful for your assistance.” Turning quickly, Grace fled the library and, terrified for her reputation, rushed back upstairs before anyone in the house could stumble upon them. Being found after hours and underdressed in the company of not one but two men could ruin her.
