‘Don’t be jealous, Romola. It was nothing, really.’
‘Then you may stay abed and finish yourself off with her memory.’ She stood up and walked to the window.
‘Don’t be like this,’ he said wearily.
‘Why do you even come here, panting at my door like an eager dog?’ There was a taint of spite to her words now.
‘Because it diverts me, woman?’
‘Am I not a little low for the likes of an earl’s son?’
‘I am no son of an earl. And I come because, with you, I can be myself.’
‘A rogue, a drunkard and a shameless rake, you mean,’ said Romola, turning to glare at him.
‘If you like.’ Rawden sat up and crossed his arms behind his head. Desire crossed Romola’s face for a moment before she could turn away and hide it.
Any other time, he would placate her with flattery and promises, and they would be friends again. But anger at William and his own behaviour had ruined his night, and Rawden was in no mood for that. ‘It pleases me to come here, Romola, and I do so like to be pleased.’
Romola turned and looked at him over her shoulder. ‘I think you come to dull the pain.’
Her look was coquettish, but her words stung like a rapier’s slice. ‘Careful, Romola, or we might fall out,’ he snarled. ‘I do not come here to plumb the dark recesses of my soul or share confidences. I come because I like you, and at Covent Garden, I do not have to conform to the relentless boredom of life amongst the ton.’
She came over and kissed him lightly on the forehead. ‘You have one foot in the ton and one foot in hell, don’t you, Rawden?’ She trailed her fingers down his cheek and across his lips, inserting them in his mouth. It was a dominant gesture, meant to put him in his place and arouse him so that she could have her way, but he was in no mood for Romola’s games.
Rawden pushed her away and rolled over to show her his back. ‘If you are done probing my heart for weaknesses, I am ready to sleep.’
‘I am not probing, and you have no heart, my love.’
‘I will not argue with that. Now hush and get some rest. I might have need of you in the morning.’
Soon, the combination of liquor and spirited lovemaking sent him into an exhausted sleep. He dreamed of wide, brown eyes and a full mouth yielding to his own, soft, warm, giving, not taking. But when he woke the next morning, it was to rain gusting against the window and a cold bed. Romola was gone, and so was his ardour, replaced by cold resolve.
Today, he must do the unthinkable, for Will’s sake and his own.
Chapter Six
The storm which had blown in on the evening of Lady Blanchard’s rout had brought blustery rain that spat against the windows of Uncle Charles’ drawing room. It was a sombre corner of the house and rarely used, but the servants had lit an abundance of candles which cast a cosy glow over the dark blue panelling and Persian rug, intricately patterned in multi-coloured swirls. The last light was trickling from the day, causing Grace to shiver a little despite the roaring fire. How she was dreading the evening ahead.
Her uncle’s bark rose from the hallway below as he greeted his guests. When called upon, Uncle Charles could be jovial and warm to those whose favour he sought or to his betters, though Grace rarely saw that side of him. She sighed as she surveyed the gilt-inlaid mahogany card table and fine crystal and cigars laid out for the indulgence of his card party, to which she was to be hostess.
Her stomach turned over, but she had to play the part of obedient niece. ‘I attended that damned rout for your pleasure, so you can do this for me. You need not say much. Just look pretty and be gracious to my guests,’ he had said. ‘They are all fine young fellows I hold in high esteem, so I expect you to be modest and pleasing and keep your opinions to yourself.’
Voices sounded on the stairs, and a group of buoyant young men burst in, followed by Uncle Charles. Their conversation trailed off, and they stared at her with open mouths. Grace dearly longed to take cover behind a large fern in the corner of the room, but Uncle Charles beckoned her forward and waved a hand at her. ‘My niece, Miss Grace Howden, and our most fetching hostess tonight, gentlemen,’ he declared with some pride, much to Grace’s surprise and mortification.
The guests were dandies to a man - that breed of gentlemen who are rich and indolent and out for pleasure. They were all overdressed for a night of cards in a private house. All sported colourful waistcoats, high-collared shirts and elaborately coiffed hair, which only served to betray their vanity. One man stood out, for he was taller than the rest, more heavy-set, and had the most striking grey eyes Grace had ever seen. While his companions bowed in greeting to her and then hung back, he strode forward.
Shockingly, he took Grace’s hand and said, ‘You did not exaggerate, Charles. This is a beauty indeed. I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Howden.’ He held Grace in his grey-eyed gaze as he gave a low bow. ‘Caville Sharp, at your service,’ he murmured.
‘Come now, Sharp, do not be so modest,’ said Uncle Charles. ‘Sharp here is the eldest son of Lord Reginald Sharp, the Viscount Peynton, Grace. He is a pillar of society and the darling of the ton.’
The young man laughed. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Charles. And surely we can dispense with the formalities, for I see your plan now, Howden, old fellow. You mean to distract us from the card table with your niece’s beauty and charm so that you can fleece us poor fellows.’
Grace’s face grew so hot she thought it might melt off. She rarely received compliments, and her pride swelled at Caville Sharp’s regard. ‘Mr. Sharp, I mean, Lord Sharp, I am sure you exaggerate my virtues on such short acquaintance,’ she said.
‘Then we must deepen our acquaintance so you might prove me wrong. Though I doubt even the most fastidious of men could find fault with you, Miss Howden. And it is Caville to you, not Mr. Sharp or Lord. Have I not already declared that there shall be no formalities between us? In fact, I am determined that we shall be the best of friends.’
Grace tried to slide her fingers free of Caville’s grip, but he held on just a little, then relented. He smiled boldly and winked as if his teasing was amusing to him. It deepened the lines at the side of his mouth, swelling his good looks. Grace was so seldom the centre of anyone’s attention that she warmed to the young man. And though his easy manner was strangely unsettling, Grace had no time to dwell on it as a flurry of introductions followed with many gushing compliments about her loveliness from the young men.
