Seduced by His Touch(17)

"Four days," she agreed. She only hoped that four days proved to be enough.





Chapter 8





"Are you certain you don't wish to remain a couple days longer?" her  aunt asked as they stood together in the bedchamber where Grace had  slept the last three nights.

Grace handed a pair of books to the maidservant, who was helping her  pack. "I have had a lovely time here with you and Mrs. Duggin, but I  would rather return to Bath today as planned. You stay and visit a while  more. Truly, I do not mind in the least."

Aunt Jane's lips firmed with clear indecision. "Yes, but you will be all  alone at the town house. What will you do, rattling around by  yourself?"

"I am sure I shall find ways to occupy my time. And I will hardly be  alone, not with eight of your servants in residence," she countered. "I  assure you they shall keep me well-fed and eminently comfortable."

"Just so. But I fear your father would not approve."

"Then let us not tell him, and that way he won't be displeased."

Her aunt's eyes glittered with surprised enthusiasm at the suggestion. "I suppose you are right in that."

"Besides," Grace continued, "it is not as if I am a girl any longer. At  five and twenty I am quite capable of looking after myself."

A soft smile lightened her aunt's face. "From my perspective, five and  twenty is plenty young. But I am forgetting that you can still send for  Mrs. Twine to come visit. She won't mind in the least. Promise you will  send for her the moment you arrive."                       
       
           


///
       

Seeing that her valise was packed, Grace reached for her spencer of  lightweight fawn sarcenet. Slipping it on, she fastened the short row of  buttons, then turned to dust a kiss over her aunt's cheek. "I shall be  sure to let her know I am returned."

"I will only be another day or two."

"Stay as long as you like. I shall be fine."

Yet an hour later as she sat in the coach traveling back to Bath, Grace  wasn't sure how "fine" she actually was. Despite the time away, she was  no closer to making a decision about her situation than she had been  when she'd left.

She'd told Terrence she would consider his offer of marriage, but each  time she started to do so, her thoughts seemed to shy away and before  she knew it, she would find herself occupied by some other activity.

As for Jack, she couldn't think of him without her pulse picking up  speed, her body tingling with heated memories of his touch. She missed  him, her dreams and daydreams leaving her with a deep, yearning ache  only he could assuage.

Even so, she still didn't know what to do.

Terrence was a good and loyal friend-safe, steady, and dependable. With  him she would enjoy the benefits of companionship and shared interests.  As his wife, she would have few worries, her life a pleasant, even easy  one. If only she loved him, her choice would be simple. But as much as  she might wish it, Terrence ignited no fires inside her. He didn't make  her burn with a passionate intensity she hadn't even realized she was  capable of feeling.

But Jack Byron did.

Like a warrior laying siege, he'd taken her unawares, turning her  suppositions about herself and her needs completely on their head. A  part of her wanted him desperately. Another part of her was afraid of  those very desires. He would bring her pleasure and excitement, making  her heart and body soar. But what of the crash to follow? What of the  scandal and shame?

Terrence might never excite her heart, but neither would he break it.

Then again, she could refuse them both, return to London, and continue  on as she had been doing. Only a few weeks ago, she hadn't minded the  idea of spending her life as a spinster. So why did it no longer seem  sufficient? Why did the idea leave her dissatisfied and oddly  incomplete?

No more at ease with her thoughts than before, she glanced out of the  coach window and watched as Bath came into view. Arriving at her aunt's  town house, she went up to her room to change out of her traveling  clothes and bathe.

An hour later, attired now in a fresh gown of sprigged lilac muslin, she  sat down to a light meal of cold sliced beef and crisp, late summer  vegetables and fruits. Afterward, she went to her writing desk to pen a  note to Mrs. Twine.

But as she lifted her quill above the parchment, she hesitated. As  amiable a companion as the older woman was, Grace didn't want or need  her company-at least not at present. What she wanted was some resolution  to her situation. What she needed was to make up her mind and find some  peace.

Maybe if I talk to Terrence, I'll be able to decide once and for all?

It was late afternoon, but not too late for a social call between  friends. Surely he would be at his hotel, where they could talk the  matter through. If she listened to his counsel, maybe it would give her  the strength to do what she knew she ought.

She might not be a lady born, but she had been educated as one. And  ladies did not toss their virtue away on handsome aristocrats bent on  leading them into a life of sin-however wonderfully pleasurable and  decadent that life might promise to be. Clearly, the rational choice was  to break things off with Jack.

Perhaps a talk with Terrence would convince her of that wisdom. And then  she would be free to decide whether or not to say yes to marrying him.

Setting down her pen, she rose and went downstairs. Without giving  herself further time to consider, she gathered her spencer and reticule  and made her way from the house.





"You've the devil's own luck, my lord," complained one of the men across  from Jack, as he flung down his hand in grudging defeat. "Never seen  anyone have such a deuced smooth way with the cards."

Jack scraped the stack of winnings off the baize-covered table and fed  them into his coin purse, the additional weight making the leather sag.  "Comes from careful play, my good sir. Luck, on the other hand, is a  fickle mistress, one over which I have no greater advantage than any  other man." Sliding back his chair, he stood. "My thanks for an  excellent game."

"But you can't leave now!" the man protested. "I haven't had a chance to recoup my losses."

Jack gave him a cautionary look. "I rather thought you might appreciate  leaving here with a few quid in your pocket. Personally, I'd use it on a  nice dinner and a visit to the theater. But if you insist on continuing  to play, there's a game starting just across the way. Now, I have other  business. Good day, gentlemen."                       
       
           


///
       

Actually, he had no other business-at least nothing pressing. But he'd  already taken plenty of blunt off these three new arrivals to the city,  and there was no need to strip them bare. Added to that, he was eager to  return to his town house and see if he'd received a message from Grace.  Four days and not so much as a word. The silence was driving him mad.

I should never have let her go to Bristol.

Short of chasing after her, though, he'd had no choice in the matter.  One minute he'd been planning their next excursion, the next he was  listening to her say she was leaving town for a few days.

Well, her few days were over. If he didn't hear from her by tomorrow, he  would go after her regardless of how it might look. Who knows, perhaps  she would be touched by his apparent devotion, fling her arms around his  neck and confess her love-admitting that she'd been utterly bereft  without him.

For his part, he could honestly say that he missed their outings.  Even-dare he say it-missed her. He certainly hadn't expected to,  assuming he would think little of her while she was gone. Yet as each  new day arrived, his thoughts turned often to Grace. Wondering how she  was faring and what she was doing. And most importantly, how soon she  would return.

But such musings meant nothing. He was merely anxious to get on with his  plans, that's all. What he wanted most was to be done with this game,  put his ring on her finger and be free of the debt teetering like a  five-ton boulder over his head.

That and bed her.

Yes, he was definitely looking forward to bedding Grace. Since that  first kiss, his hunger for her had only increased, leaving him  frustrated and impatient for the day when he would claim her fully. So  far he'd been careful not to let their interludes go beyond kissing and a  few harmless touches. But his restraint was wearing thin-very thin.

When, he thought as he strode toward the door, is she coming back?





Terrence's hotel was quiet when Grace walked inside, with only a couple  of men lounging idly in the lobby. As for the clerk's desk, it stood  deserted, no one available to answer inquiries or to provide assistance.  Luckily, Terrence had mentioned his room number in passing, commenting  on how comfortable he found the second-floor accommodations.