Jane could barely believe it, her eyes popping at Grace’s daring insolence. “You should have seen his reaction.” Grace had laughed.
Now Grace covered Jane’s hand with her own. “Does Jon know?” She meant about the pregnancy.
Jane looked up at her. Obviously Grace thought she was carrying Lindley’s child. “It’s not his,” she said tersely.
Grace’s eyes went wide.
Jane’s filled with tears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me,” Grace cried, squeezing her hand. “Jane, I am not judging you!”
Jane shook her head unable to speak, and wiped her eyes with the napkin. “No, you see, Grace, what you’ve thought all along isn’t true. I am not Lindley’s mistress.” Grace stared again— they had never discussed this openly. “I am only his friend,” Jane confessed. “He does love me, and he does want me. Today he even asked me to marry him. But, you see, I love someone else.”
“I see,” Grace said.
Jane fought the sob choking her. “I love Nicole’s father,” she said softly. “He is in London. He is married,” she added.
“I’m so sorry,” Grace cried. “That bastard! That typical, rotten, selfish, philandering, rutting bastard! That—”
“Grace!” Jane cried. “He is Rathe’s brother, Lord Shelton, the Earl of Dragmore!”
Grace gasped.
The two women stared at each other, Grace’s flush of fury fading to sheer white, Jane’s nose red, eyes shiny. “We thought his wife was dead,” Jane said miserably. “And he married me. But not out of love, but because he found out about Nicole. Yet I love him so. When his first wife reappeared, I couldn’t take it, I couldn’t. He wanted me to be his mistress, but after being his wife … I ran away!” Jane began to cry. She tried not to, but it was impossible.
Grace got up and swiftly hugged her. “Sometimes men are such insensitive boors,” she said. “Get it out, Jane, all of it,” she said, recovering her calm. “You will feel much better, and you can trust me.”
Jane regarded her. “I was only seventeen when we met,” she said unsteadily. “And I fell in love with him that very first moment. He was so big and dark, so powerful, even menacing. And his eyes, they were silver, so cold—yet so hot.” She paused, lost in remembrance of that time in the dusty parlor at Dragmore. She decided to tell it all. “They called him the Lord of Darkness …”
53
Rathe Bragg sat on the edge of the big, four-postered bed in his and Grace’s silk-walled bedroom, shirtless. His thickly muscled torso gleamed in the gentle gas lighting from the chandelier. Now his expression was amazed, even stunned. “Nick’s mistress! Grace! Nicole is my niece!”
Grace was pacing in a filmy nightgown and robe, one of the many intimate gifts her husband constantly bought her, her long, magnificent red hair loose and cascading to her hips. “Poor Jane!” she cried. “Do you think your brother really asked her to be his mistress when Patricia came back?”
Rathe grimaced. “It’s certainly possible. And knowing Nick, with Nicole involved it’s even likely. He would want to see mother and daughter frequently, I think. I can’t believe this!”
Grace sat down hard next to him. “What are we going to do?”
Normally, Rathe firmly opposed his wife’s schemes, for she was, he had to admit (fondly), a fervent busybody once aroused to a cause. This occasion seemed to warrant some interference, however. “So she’s carrying Nick’s child,” he mused, “and she loves him.”
“I didn’t tell her he is on his way here,” Grace said intensely. “Should we tell her that Nick is coming?”
“I wonder if he’s bringing Patricia,” Rathe responded obliquely. “He didn’t say in the telegram —but we’ll find out soon enough. I imagine he should be here any day.”
Grace abruptly rose to pace again, like a restless tigress. “Rathe! I feel guilty knowing Nick is on his way and not telling Jane! She has already suffered so!”
Rathe got up and went to her, clasping her shoulders and pulling her back against his chest. He held her there, kissing her neck. “Darling, if she knows he’s coming she’ll run away. Let’s let nature take its course. They need to resolve their affair one way or another. Jane’s running away left it open. Maybe she even wants Nick to chase after her. And Nick certainly has the right to know about the child.”
“What if she decides to marry Lindley?” Grace asked, twisting to face him.
“That’s her right,” Rathe said simply. “After all, Nick is married.” He grimaced and cursed graphically. “God, I can’t believe that bitch is alive! Too bad!”
“Rathe!”
“She made my brother miserable and you know it,” Rathe said vehemently. “She nearly destroyed him! What if he’d been convicted of her murder?” Then he looked intently at his wife. “I don’t think this is a coincidence, Grace, do you?”
She regarded him levelly. “I was wondering the same thing. Jane appears here, and Nick is on his way—when he’s never been back to America since he took up his inheritance at Dragmore.”
