‘Reeves should have done it for you. Damn the man. I told him to keep an eye on you.’
Her head snapped up. ‘Well, he did not. And I can learn to shift for myself in time. I must be more independent and not always rely on a man’s protection.’
Rawden frowned. What was she not saying? A spurt of frustration made him harsh. ‘As to visiting Harriet, it would be wise not to rely on her friendship, Grace.’
‘Why do you speak against her? Harriet and I have known each other since school, and we are the best of friends.’
‘I am sorry if my opinion discomforted you, Grace. Ignore it if you wish.’
‘No, tell me.’
‘What I meant, though I put it rather bluntly, is that she seems to be a fair-weather friend. Do you not see that your gifts are far greater than hers – a generous heart, beauty, and the strength to triumph over adversity?’ He tried to make her smile at him. ‘I would also venture that your husband is richer, more powerful and, dare I say it, more handsome than hers.’ His teasing earned no smile, and so Rawden blundered on. ‘You came from nothing, and I admire your fortitude, Grace. But Harriet does not. Your rise in society irks her, as she is used to looking down on you.’
‘That is preposterous,’ she said coldly. ‘She is well-married, with a man of her choice, and Gilbert Routledge is….’
‘Horrible.’
‘What?’
‘Gilbert Routledge is awful, and he is far from a moral man. He has several mistresses, none of whom speak well of him, even though he has their keep.’
‘Mistresses. More than one? That is foul.’
Rawden nodded and strolled to the window to stare out at the oily black slide of the Thames. Disappointment slid into his heart like that dark river, for Grace was not how he had left her.
‘Why do people not speak well of him, Rawden?’ she demanded.
‘It is not for me to say.’
‘Tell me, please.’
Rawden turned. Her face was pink, and it was no blush. It was anger. ‘Leave it be, Grace, for you cannot insert yourself into your friend’s marriage. She will not welcome it, and it would be a form of cruelty to show her how far you have risen and she having fallen. I should not have spoken of it.’
‘If my friend is in danger or being treated cruelly, then I would know of it.’
Rawden sighed heavily. ‘Alright. They say that Gilbert rules women with an iron hand. He views them as chattel, slaves to do with as he wishes, and he cares not one jot for their feelings. I would guess that he is an indifferent husband, at best, definitely an adulterous one and a cruel one at his worst.’
‘Rawden, you cannot know that with any certainty.’
‘Ah, but I do. Remember, I mix with his friends at my club. Ask Hardy. He will support everything I am saying. When men are in their cups, they are rarely discreet, and Gilbert is often in his cups.’
‘I see.’ Grace squared her shoulders. ‘And what kind of husband will you be, Rawden – indifferent, adulterous, cruel, all three?’ she said.
Her question stole his breath for a moment. ‘What we did abed last night proves that I am anything but indifferent,’ he spat.
Grace swallowed hard at his anger, and her eyes widened. He was painfully aware of the rush of blood to his loins, lust rising with anger at the thought of pinning her to the bed, her thighs pressing onto his head, her little yelps and cries as he gave her pleasure. He wanted the soft, sweet surrender of just a few hours ago, not this interrogation, this cold rejection.
‘Why these questions when we agreed to see where this thing takes us?’
‘I need to know. Are you adulterous and cruel, Rawden? Be truthful, I beg you.’
‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘And I was the opposite of cruel last night, was I not? I tried to be kind to you, Grace, and I would be kind to you again if you let me.’
‘I am asking for the truth, Rawden, just this once.’
‘I was always honest about who I am, Grace.’
‘And so was your lover, Romola. She paid me a visit, and it was most instructive.’
