With one bitter glance at her, Caville Sharp rushed away, shouting for a carriage to be summoned.
‘In on the game? What did he mean, Uncle?’ cried Grace.
Charles Howden sneered at her in disgust. ‘You have well and truly cooked your goose now, girl. With no proposal in sight, that man was your only hope of a comfortable future. It is not for me to provide for poor relations, long since estranged from the family name.’
Full realisation dawned, and tears stung Grace’s eyes. ‘You cannot be in earnest. I will not marry that man.’
‘We are not talking about marriage, you ignorant chit. You need not marry Caville to get what you want. Do you think the son of a viscount will look favourably on a nobody for a bride? He is already betrothed to the Honourable Miss Arabella Chomley.’
‘Then why is he making a proposal to me?’
Uncle Charles’ brows knit together. ‘Is that what you think? How stupid could you be? That was not a proposal of marriage. Caville intends a more flexible arrangement.’
‘No. You cannot mean to make me his mistress?’
‘It is not such a bad thing. He is rich and can provide you with an excellent situation. And a woman like you cannot afford to be so fastidious.’
‘A woman like me?’
‘A penniless nobody. That is the truth of it. Gad, you’d think I’d thrown you away on a pauper.’
Grace felt she might be sick. She had not supposed her situation to be this bad. ‘Uncle, I beg you. He is a horrible man, and I will not sacrifice my virtue to such a sordid scheme.’
‘Then you will end on the street. The season is almost over, and no husband in sight, so that means I get to choose for you,’ he huffed.
‘I cannot find a situation so quickly,’ she whispered. ‘Please, I need time.’
‘You are out of time. My patience is at an end. I must go to Lord Sharp in the morning and smooth over troubled waters before he changes his mind and chooses another.’
Grace stared at her uncle in horror. She had endured months of the horrible man’s disapproval, jibes, and grudging charity, and she could take no more. ‘How dare you. First, you cheat me out of a dowry and then try to sell me to a horrible lecher. It is unspeakable.’
The slap came from nowhere - hard enough to sting and humiliate, and for the first time, Grace confronted who her uncle really was.
‘Get to bed before I do worse,’ he snarled, and Grace fled upstairs.
She barred her door and fell on the bed, sobbing. She was trapped. She had no one and nothing. Once morning came, he might very well throw her out onto the street. She had chided herself for resenting Uncle Charles as cruel and uncaring, told herself to be grateful because he had taken her in when her father passed, given her a roof over her head. But now, she had seen his true nature. He was a villain of the first order, and she, under his power.
She needed help, but who would bother themselves over a nobody, with neither money nor connections?
Chapter Eight
Grace was loathe to go down to breakfast, but she had to face her Uncle Charles sometime. She was halfway through forcing down a crumpet, its buttery taste making her want to gag, when he barged in. He gave her a foul look and dismissed the servants. For a moment, there was a stiff silence, and Grace stared out of the window at a grey sky as bleak as the mood in the breakfast room.
‘I have had to go out in a tempest this morning, for your sake, to smooth Sharp’s ruffled feathers. I have been to grovel in the hope that he will forgive you and take you back. But you will suffer for this wound to his pride, mark my words. He is known as the vengeful type. You could have made a pretty nest for yourself and had everything you desire – wealth, patronage, security, and you throw it all away over foolish pride. Was there ever such an ungrateful chit? Fortunately for you, there are no bones broken.’
‘More’s the pity,’ murmured Grace.
Uncle Charles banged the table with his fist. ‘I will not be gainsaid. Caville seems enticed by your reluctance rather than repelled and so has not forsaken you, so you will comply, because I have a great deal riding on his good opinion.’
‘How so?’
‘Caville Sharp is investing in a scheme of mine and is firm friends with Peregrine, whom I esteem greatly. Should I lose Caville’s favour, I will most certainly lose Peregrine’s, and our friendship might be at an end.’
‘I will not be that man’s mistress for the sake of your friendship,’ said Grace.
‘You need to grow up. A woman need not marry to get what she wants. Look at all that Mrs Hamilton achieved in her lifetime, even though she came from the gutter.’
‘She was a notorious jade and adulterous wife who died in poverty.’
