Grace was pleased to see Charles’s dream of knighthood turning into a nightmare.
‘I must admit, she is a little immature, but I am sure she will grow up eventually,’ she added airily.
In truth, Heather was remarkably mature for her age.
Lord Bainbridge was aghast. ‘Playing... in the fields. With commoners?’
He shuddered in distaste. ‘This is what is to be expected from savages, eh, Charles?’
‘I did warn you, my lord. Their mother was half-Indian. Perhaps it is simply impossible to civilise them,’ Charles sighed.
Grace stiffened.
Her mother was half-Indian, and she was proud of her heritage—to hell with Charles and anyone else who disagreed.
Her voice was steel.
‘Careful how you speak about my mother, Charles. She was not a savage. She was more noble than you shall ever be.
‘For your information, Islam is a monotheistic Abrahamic faith. And the Mughal Indian culture she came from has a rich, sophisticated, and advanced tradition.
‘I will have you know that our grandmother, Khairun Nessa, could trace her lineage back to the Prophet Muhammed—peace be upon him—himself.’
The onslaught took both men by surprise.
They gaped at her.
Silence engulfed the room—only the cat’s purring could be heard.
The farce of civility lifted as the men spoke about her as though she were not there.
‘You did not tell me she has a mind of her own, Charles,’ Lord Bainbridge sniffed. With undisguised disgust, he added, ‘She sounds like a bluestocking. I have always forbidden my daughters from reading too much for this very reason.’
He eyed Grace as though literacy itself might be a catching disease.
Both gentlemen hastily took their leave, Charles fawning over Lord Bainbridge all the way to the door. However, he did not leave without casting a daggered look at Grace as they exited.
Grace thought, at that moment, that she would no doubt feel the repercussions of her actions at a later date...
But she would worry about that tomorrow.
Today, she would celebrate.
After all, she had successfully chased away the groom.
She and her sister were safe—for now.
Chapter 2
Six Months Later
As was her routine, Grace was out at the crack of dawn, tending to the tenants or overseeing outstanding tasks in the Skye Estate. At Farmer Jones’s cottage, she was pleased to find the labourers had successfully repaired the leaking roof. The solution she suggested for draining the flooded land in the southeast corner of Farmer Hayhurst’s land worked well.
However, today, a pit of fear settled in her stomach.
The dreaded news had arrived—the probate had cleared, and Charles was now the official owner of Skye Manor. Grace was living on borrowed time and expected solicitors to arrive with news of how their lives would change under his control.
She rode back to Skye Manor, standing grand and tall against the morning sky.
