‘Get your hands off me, Rawden,’ she snapped.
He was more angry with himself than her, but he could not contain it. ‘Enough of that tone. Do not mistake me for my brother who would jump at your every command, Grace. You will find I am a harder man entirely.’
‘No one could ever mistake you for your brother.’
It hurt like a punch to the gut. ‘I will leave you now and send word of when you should prepare for our wedding. Do you have suitable clothes?’ he barked.
‘What do you think?’ she said.
‘Order whatever you like from the dressmaker and have the account sent to me. My card,’ he said, presenting it as if they were transacting business and had not had their bodies passionately entwined just moments ago.
Grace took the card and held it in shaking hands. She would not look at him.
‘I will leave you now as you have much to think about. Wait for me to send word of when I will collect you for church.’ Rawden hurried to the door, paused and looked back. She was still staring down at his card, frozen with mortification.
‘All will be well, Grace. Trust me.’
She looked up at him with teary eyes, and he rushed away. Rawden burst into the street and hurried along the pavement. Part of him never wanted to go back to her. How much easier it had been when he thought of pretty little Grace Howden as a duty to be suffered, a scheming jade who had misled William, a nobody beneath his notice. Well, he had definitely noticed her now.
And he had made a cross for his back by marrying a woman he desired but could not touch without tarnishing his brother’s memory, a woman who did not want him and would only belong to him out of desperation. She would have married William with no complaint and made him happy. Now, Rawden was gripped with a desire to win her grudging affection and approval.
But she did not care for him, and why should she care for the feelings of a monster? As he hurried away from Grosvenor Square and Peel House, Rawden acknowledged that he was jealous of a dead man and hated himself for it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grace wriggled out of her wedding dress, crafted from the softest cream muslin and overlaid with a net of gold. It was simple, having been made in great haste, but it was the finest thing she had ever worn. And it should have been fine, for she had spent as much as possible on it just to spite Rawden. She might have been backed into a corner with this marriage, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
Harriet had been equally unhappy with the match, almost more so than Grace, and she was still not reconciled to it. ‘You look beautiful in that dress. So very pure and pretty. It brings out the fire in your hair and suits your complexion very well. What a pity I shall not be there to see you wear it at your wedding.’
‘Rawden wants a quiet ceremony and no guests. I am sorry.’
‘One might think he was ashamed of you,’ said Harriet with a child’s pout playing about her lips.
Her friend’s comment stung, but Grace tried not to take it to heart. Perhaps she was right, and Rawden was ashamed to have such a lowly bride. Grace had not seen him since he had made his cold proposal, when she had dropped her guard and let him kiss her. Oh, it was too mortifying. She would not think of that now.
Harriet was not finished with her condemnation. ‘Oh, forgive me, but I have such misgivings about this whole affair, and I cannot contain them. Are you sure about this marriage, Grace? I cannot believe you are to marry Rawden Voss. Remember when you said if you married his brother, you would have to face him at family dinners and how awful that would be. Now you have to share his bed!’ she said, almost quivering with revulsion.
‘I know. But it must be done. I have no other path,’ wailed Grace, but inside, she wrestled with shameful feelings. She had wanted Rawden’s hands on her and the warmth of his tongue sliding inside her mouth. It may have been shocking and a little violating, yet it was oddly stirring. Being held in Rawden’s strong arms was like being embraced by an oak tree - so solid, warm, and, unexpectedly, safe. But his kiss had been anything but safe, and his character was far from ideal.
Grace knew she had long teetered on the brink of disaster. Married or not, there was no comfortable certainty in her life. And now she had chosen Rawden as the lesser of two evils. But what did he think of her? When Rawden had broken off their embrace, it had been the shame of her life. He must think the worst of her – that she was a jade, a tease and a shameless hussy.
‘Grace,’ cried Harriet. ‘Do pay attention. You were far away then.’
‘I am sorry. I have not slept well of late, and I am tired. And as to marrying Rawden, I don't think I have much choice. With no dowry, no connections, and the season at an end, so are my prospects. And my Uncle Charles is determined to be rid of me. I suppose I will just have to make the best of it.’
‘But Rawden Voss is a blackguard, a rake, a very bad man. He is barely received by the ton.’
‘That makes two of us.’
Harriet shook her head. ‘That is not true. And how can you entertain such a notion? The man is a monster!’
Grace bridled at her friend’s condemnation. ‘Please do not say that. Whatever he is, Rawden will be my husband by week’s end, and I must ask you not to speak of him so, Harriet.’
‘But you know his reputation. What will you do when he goes philandering all over London while you are his wife?’
‘I will have to bear it. And if he is trying to fulfil William’s dying wish, then he is not totally without honour, surely?’
Harriet twirled her pale little fingers through some ribbons and grimaced. ‘I suppose that is honourable, in a bleak kind of way, and forgive my pessimism. It is just that your secret engagement to William Voss was so romantic, like something out of a novel. But this Rawden Voss terrifies me a little. He is so big and rough-looking. I should not want to be under his power.’ She shrugged. ‘But if you cannot see the truth of it, then what can I do?’
