She turned, expecting to see Uncle Charles, but instead, Caville Sharp stood before her with a smirk on his face. ‘Alone at last,’ he said.
Chapter Seven
‘What a relief that those loud fellows have gone,’ said Caville. ‘My friends are diverting, but I confess, I am quite worn out with their chatter.’
‘Where is my uncle?’ said Grace.
‘Tottered to his bed, along with all the servants, this cold night. Best place for him, for I fear he can barely stand. The man can certainly put away the port, can he not?’
Grace’s throat thickened. ‘I should go too. I am weary, so I will say goodnight,’ she murmured, rushing past him to the door, but Caville got there first and barred her way.
‘Don’t fly away, little bird. The house is quiet, so we have a chance to get to know each other better.’
‘I should not be here with you alone. It is not seemly. Let me pass.’
‘Come now. I won’t tell anyone. Are you so chained to convention, Grace? Why not break the rules just for one night. I only want to talk to you.’
She backed away in a panic. ‘Please let me pass. It is cold, and I want to go to bed.’
‘I can warm you,’ said Caville, leaping on her so suddenly that he almost knocked her off her feet. His arms coiled about her waist, strong and grasping.
‘Please, let go,’ she cried.
‘I cannot, for I am smitten.’
‘No. If you do not let me go, Lord Sharp, I will scream for the servants, I swear.’
‘The servants have been sent to their quarters, and I will stifle your screams with kisses. Come on. The innocent act is quite rousing, Miss Howden, but you may dispense with it now. And I intend to try before I buy.’
‘What?’
He reached for her bosom and squeezed hard, and Grace beat at him with her fists as his mouth swooped onto hers. His kiss was forceful and almost violent, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, wet and quivering like an eel. Grace tried to pull away, but Caville put one hand to the back of her head, forcing her face to his.
Grace pushed him away with all her might, but it did little, for he was incredibly strong. In a blind panic, she stamped on his foot, and Caville howled and leapt back, but he was between her and the door. She dashed to the other side of the card table, and he came after her. They darted back and forth on opposite sides for a moment, Caville smiling as if it was all a great jest. It was so absurd and would have been comical had she not been so afraid.
This could not go on all night. Grace spied the heavy decanter sitting on the table. If she was quick, she might make it to the door. She feigned left, and Caville lunged that way, and she took her chance, grabbing the decanter and running for the door. But he caught her by the arm and spun her around. His face was no longer handsome and carefree but hungry and angry, so Grace swept back her arm and lashed out with the decanter, aiming for his face. A last-minute swerve by Caville had it hitting his shoulder.
He fell back onto the carpet, howling, fit to wake the dead and covered in port. The door burst open, and her uncle came crashing in. Salvation, at last.
Charles Howden stopped dead and looked down at Caville, writhing on the floor. ‘What on earth have you done?’ he gasped. ‘Mercy, is that blood?’
‘No, it is port,’ said Grace, trying to get her words out through a throat tight with distress as her uncle rushed to haul Caville to his feet.
‘He…he tried to…oh, Uncle Charles…he grabbed me and…’
‘Damn and blast it,’ growled Caville. ‘I thought she was in on the game, Howden. She has damn near broken my bloody shoulder.’
‘What is he talking about?’ gasped Grace, but her uncle paid her no heed.
‘I will put this right, Sharp,’ said Uncle Charles.
Caville brushed off his ministrations and rushed to the door, hugging his good arm across his injured shoulder. ‘You had better, Howden. I am grievously insulted. Do you know who my father is?’
‘Yes, of course, and I meant no insult. She does not know her place. A thousand pardons, Sharp,’ blubbered Uncle Charles.
‘If you do not make amends for this insult, there will be hell to pay.’
‘The insult was to me,’ shouted Grace.
