I've come to realize … that I can't do without you.
Considering her father's hold over him, she could see now just how accurate that statement had been. As for letting her assume he loved her … well, she was sure he'd figured it only made his task that much easier. He said he'd set out to seduce her, and he'd done exactly that. She'd been utterly besotted, giving him not just her body but her heart as well.
She cringed now to think of the ways she'd exposed herself, openly professing her love in the mistaken belief that he returned her sentiments.
Worse still was the manner in which he'd played on her vulnerabilities. How he'd urged her, even demanding at times, that she tell him she loved him, aware all the while that he was perpetrating a sham of the most heinous kind.
Bastard.
She squeezed her hands into fists and pressed them hard against her aching chest. The fact that he'd used her, she could understand, even if she might not condone his actions. The fact that he'd made a mockery of her in the process-well, that she would never forgive.
So, what to do next?
The wedding would have to be called off, of course. She couldn't possibly marry him now, not knowing the things she did. Their breakup would cause a huge scandal, resulting in a public humiliation he quite richly deserved.
Once she left Braebourne, though, she would have no choice but to return to her father's house-a fact about which neither she nor her father would be pleased.
And afterward? She lay there, staring blindly, while her future stretched outward as dark and impenetrable as the room around her.
If only she had money, she could choose her own path.
If only she had independence, she could forge a destiny free of the dictates and manipulations of men.
And yet, maybe I can, she realized several moments later.
Wiping away the last of her tears, she began to plan.
Chapter 17
Jack groaned and rolled onto his back, the empty crystal tumbler in his hand dropping to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. The small sound was enough to bring him awake, his eyes popping open as though a gun had just been fired.
Sitting upright, he looked around and immediately wished he hadn't when the room took a sickening spin around him.
Clutching his head, he waited for the dizzying stab of pain to subside. As he did, he became aware of two things. He'd slept on the sofa instead of his bed. And Grace hated him.
Grace.
He winced as the memories swept through him.
After she'd left last night, he'd gone over to his desk, taken out his pocketknife, and proceeded to slice the settlement into tiny little pieces. While he was at it, he'd hacked the leather folder apart as well. His desk and the floor beneath were still littered with the remains.
The impulse had been childish, he knew, but at the time he'd been so angry, so frustrated with himself, that he'd needed some means of relieving his seething emotions. It was either that or start punching something. But even then, he'd known better than to put a hole in one of the walls. Although, under the circumstances, the misery of the broken hand he would surely have sustained might well have been worth it for a measure of satisfaction-however fleeting.
Ten minutes later, he'd located a brandy decanter and started drinking. At some point, he remembered getting sleepy. Rather than make the short trip over to the bed, he'd stretched out on the sofa and passed out.
///
Despite all wishes to the contrary, however, nothing could change what had occurred last night. Grace had found the settlement. She'd read it. And everything between them was over.
If he hadn't already destroyed the blasted thing, he might try again now. Of course, Danvers and both their solicitors still had copies. But that wouldn't matter for long. At any moment, he was sure someone would be knocking at his door, demanding to know why Grace had just ordered the coach to take her back to London.
On a sigh, he scrubbed a hand through his tousled hair.
Suddenly a knock came at the door, startling him despite his anticipatory musings. Climbing to his feet, he made a halfhearted attempt to straighten his shirt and trousers, then gave his permission for whoever was there to enter.
He expected it to be Ezra Danvers. But it wasn't. Instead, one of the maids walked inside, bearing a small note card on a silver salver. She was Grace's lady's maid, if he wasn't mistaken.
"Your pardon for the interruption, your lordship," she said. "But Miss Danvers asked me to give this to you without delay."
For a long moment he hesitated before reaching out for the note. Dismissing the woman with a nod of thanks, he waited until she'd gone, then broke open the seal.
There are things we must discuss. Meet me outside in the rose garden after breakfast. Assuming you know what a rose bramble looks like.
Grace
He winced, then refolded the note. So she wasn't leaving yet, after all. Surprising. Although perhaps she simply wanted to end their engagement in person. Dragging in a deep breath, he rang the bell for his valet.
Grace's half-boots crunched against the shell pathway, her long green cloak eddying in a slow swirl around her ankles, as she paced in the center of the rose garden. Her breath frosted on the air, but she barely noticed the chill, too numb inside to be disturbed by a little cold. A second set of footsteps soon joined her own, and she turned to see Jack strolling toward her.
An ache rose inside her chest as she watched him draw near. Defiantly, she chose to blame her reaction on the freezing air, rather than the shock of seeing him again for the first time since their confrontation last night.
He looks tired, she thought. Despite his neat appearance and close-shaven face, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, as though he hadn't slept well.
I hope he had a terrible night. Heaven knows, I certainly did.
"Good morning," he said.
She ignored the greeting. "I see you found the right section of the garden."
"Yes. Even I know where the roses grow." A hard gust of wind blew, ruffling her cloak and the short woolen capes on the shoulder of his greatcoat. "Though perhaps we'd both be more comfortable inside," he suggested. "It's freezing out here."
She suppressed a shiver. "This will do. What I have to say won't take long, and I don't want anyone to overhear us."
He gave a nod. "As you wish."
Despite having spent half the night rehearsing what she planned to say, the words didn't come instantly to the fore. She buried her hands inside her pockets and took several pacing steps. "I've given this situation a great deal of thought, and I've come to a number of decisions. First of all, I wish to reiterate how strongly I disapprove of what you and my father have done. I am not some object to be bartered back and forth. I find your actions reprehensible and wholly unworthy of a gentleman."
She waited to see if he would try to defend himself.
He didn't.
"Secondly, and I tell you this with complete candor, I would like nothing better than to pack my bags, leave this house, and never set eyes on you again. What you did was unforgivably cruel, and any regard I may once have felt toward you is now at an end. The f-feelings I harbored were for a man I believed I knew. You are not that man."
A scowl settled on his forehead. "Grace, I-"
"No," she said, cutting him off. "Pray allow me to finish."
His jaw tightened as he closed his mouth.
After a few moments of silence, she continued. "In spite of all that, however, the fact remains that I am a single woman with limited sources of support. I have a small amount of money laid aside from the publication of my artwork, but it is by no means enough to live on were I to leave my father's residence. And given his involvement in this … this scheme, I refuse to ever live in his house again. Which is why I have decided that you and I shall marry as planned in five days' time."
"What!" His blue eyes widened in clear astonishment. "You aren't calling off the wedding?"
///
"No. However, I do have conditions."
"What sort of conditions?"
"Nonnegotiable ones." Resuming her pacing, she rubbed her gloved hands over her arms, her heart picking up speed. "I want half of the settlement money deposited into an account established in my name only, and to which you, as my husband, agree to relinquish all current and future rights."
He lifted a dark brow but said nothing.
"The profit from my painting remains mine, as well. And should I accept any additional commissions in years to come, those funds will be mine too, to earn and spend as I choose."