Uncle Charles had shrugged and asked nothing further, for he was absorbed with getting the servants to pack a vast array of luggage for his trip to Brighton and decrying the fact that he could never decide which outfit to wear and that Peregrine should be here to help him. As to her fate when he departed for Brighton, Uncle Charles had been unusually quiet on that subject, which did not bode well.
Since Rawden’s visit, Grace had been feverishly enquiring through Harriet about positions as a governess or companion she might take if the worst happened and she was cast off. So far, Harriet had done little beyond writing to complain,‘But how shall we ever see each other again if you are in service in some northern hellhole of a place. We will not mix in the same circles.’Grace longed for Harriet to visit with her so that she could share her fears and the shocking news of Rawden’s visit. But no one came to the house.
Grace could not blame her friend for her lack of interest. Harriet had everything she could wish for in a dashing young fiancé and a genteel wedding. And who would want to swim next to a sinking ship and be dragged down with it? Still, she had never felt so alone and hopeless. In the dead of night, the uncharitable part of her character cursed Harriet’s careless indifference to her plight.
It was into this loneliness that Rawden Voss crashed back into her life. His arrival was heralded by him barking loudly at Dawson. ‘I demand to see Miss Howden. Go and tell her I am here, and be quick about it.’ When Dawson nervously declared Rawden’s presence, Grace told him she was not receiving visitors, hoping the awful man would go away. Dawson bowed and hurried off.
Moments later, there was a huge fuss. ‘Where the devil is she, you fool,’ barked Rawden out in the corridor. He had obviously headed for her uncle’s parlour, where she had last received him, but she was in a smaller, prettier one that she loved to frequent. The high windows let sunlight flood in, and the soft yellow curtains and chair coverings mirrored its warmth.
Grace gave in to a nervous snigger. Perhaps if she hid, he would not find her and have to go blustering out into the street again. She had a brief inclination to duck behind the heavy curtains, but moments later, Rawden Voss burst into the room.
‘There you are. I told that nincompoop to take himself off and not bother us.’
Grace remained seated to put him on the back foot and said with more courage than she felt, ‘Do you always demand rather than ask? I am not in the habit of receiving callers this early in the morning, Sir.’
‘And I am not in the habit of being waved away by an underling when I come calling.’ Rawden Voss glared and tossed his hat onto a side table with a clatter. ‘I have something important to say to you, and I will damned well say it.’
‘Very well,’ sighed Grace. ‘If you will not leave, I suppose I shall have to hear you out. Will you not be seated?’ Grace folded her hands in her lap, and Rawden sat on a chair opposite her. There was nowhere to hide now.
He perched himself on the very edge of the chair as if he were trying to get as close to her as possible. It was low and delicate, designed for a lady, and he had to bunch his knees up to fit. It diminished his ferocity a little.
For a while, he contented himself with staring, his eyes hard and searching. Rawden’s was a compelling face. His eyes held such ferocity and impatience but confusion, too, and they had a dark beauty. No woman alive would fail to find him attractive, for his physique had a bulk that dominated a room. Had the loathsome oaf possessed any charm, he would have been a truly dazzling man.
Rawden raked his fingers through his shiny black hair, and Grace wondered if it was soft to the touch. A blush torched her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands.
‘This is utter folly, and I am an utter fool,’ he said, more to himself than her. ‘But I will not be turned from my promise to my brother, so if I must grovel and debase myself for his sake, I will. I am here to propose an arrangement that is beneficial to you, Miss Howden.’
‘An arrangement?’ Grace had the awful suspicion that he was going to offend her honour more than Caville Sharp had, but then the words were out of his mouth.
‘I believe there is a certain tradition to how these offers are made, but I am a novice at this, so I will just come out with it as best I can. It would be my great honour if you would accept my hand in marriage.’
‘Marriage? To you!’ she cried in horror, before she could stop herself.
His face darkened. ‘Of course, to me. Do you see another poor fellow sitting here like a fool?’
‘I…I do not know what to say, Earl Voss, other than.…’
He cut her off. ‘You only need to say yes, Miss Howden. I will take care of all the arrangements with your uncle and so forth. I am sure he will be in agreement. It is not as if you have other suitors beating down your door.’ He frowned and leant forward. ‘You don’t, do you?’
‘Sir, I do not.’ Grace could barely speak for shock.
‘Good. Now, you should know why I am proposing this union and go into it with your eyes open. I promised my brother, as he lay dying that I would offer you my protection.’ He sighed heavily as if it weighed upon him. ‘I suppose I could just settle a sum on you, but I believe others would soon swindle it out of you or use it as a means to suggest you are my…erm…kept woman, which will not do. I must secure both your future and reputation in order to fulfil my promise to William.’
‘Others, you say. And who might they be?’
‘Your Uncle Charles, for one,’ he said, fixing her with an impatient glare. ‘I know he is all but bankrupt.’
‘What?’
How could Uncle Charles be bankrupt? He had just spent a small fortune on clothes for his Brighton trip.
‘Yes. I have a reliable source on that score,’ replied Rawden, triumph in his voice. ‘So, as I was saying, it is through marriage that I can best provide for you in a respectable manner and act in your best interests, which you seem unable to do.’
‘Control me, you mean,’ said Grace, unable to believe the man’s arrogance.
‘No, look out for your best interests to honour my brother’s memory,’ said Rawden slowly, as though he were addressing an infant.
‘I am not a thing to be passed around your family. I am a person with feelings.’
