and Frost by claiming that his friend had kissed her might have succeeded.
Jealousy was one emotion he had never experienced, and refused to indulge.
All those years ago, when Portia told him that she had planned to marry Cliffton, it was guilt and sadness that had driven him to plead with her to reconsider. At her refusal, he had buried even those feelings under layers of icy control.
His control served him well when dealing with women. Unfortunately for them, he could not be manipulated as easily as other men. He also could walk away when a lover grew tiresome. No anger or guilt.
Or that had been the case until the lady who had caught his interest had blurted out her name. It surprised him that his initial reaction was a feeling of betrayal. How could this beautiful lady be the one woman he had rejected years ago? The next emotion to bubble through the cracks of his control was anger.
Hunter did not want to be attracted to the lady his grandmother had handpicked for him. He also sensed that Grace was equally unsettled by his proximity.
If Dare and Sin had not held him back after Grace’s hasty departure, Hunter was still unsure what he might have done had he caught up to her before she reached Lady Netherley’s coach.
Paddling her backside was the least she deserved.
Although his friends begged him not to follow their coach, he ignored their sound advice, telling himself that the ladies needed his protection while they traveled the streets of London.
As he prepared to knock on the front door, he had convinced himself that he was doing her a favor by confronting her. He had envisioned the poor girl sobbing in the marchioness’s arms.
However, the lady staring back at him had clearly not shed a single tear. According to Regan and the others, Grace was eager to sever all ties to him. If she had put her request into a letter, he would have considered accepting her offer.
Then he would have politely declined her request.
She did not understand that the vow he made extended beyond her protection. His honor and sense of duty was bound to the contract—as was the lady herself.
In time, Grace would understand her decision to travel to London only hurled them to the inevitable.
She would marry him.
Grace deliberately crossed her eyes, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You were content to never inquire about me to see what became of the girl you were entrusted with. Now you are staring at me as if you can somehow recover those lost years. It is a futile endeavor.”
“True.” Hunter had visited Frethwell Hall, but it was obvious no one had told her. He had regrets, but he had kept his promise to his grandmother. Lady Grace had been raised according to her station in life, and had never lacked for anything. His only failing as far as he was concerned was that he had selfishly put aside too many years for himself.
“Then what do you propose we do?” she demanded, growing frustrated by his silence.
Now that he had met her, there was only one thing he could do to make amends for his absence and keep his honor intact.
“I propose we get married.”
* * *
“No,” she said, her soft denial was reinforced with an iron will. How many years had she longed to hear him speak those very words?
Too many.
Grace had plotted her own course. With Porter’s assistance, she would figure out a way to free both herself and Huntsley.
Instead of anger, he sat back in his chair. He clasped his large hands together as his fingers tapped in a contemplative gesture.
“Why?”
Surprised by the question, she made a wordless sputtering noise. “Why? I can give you nineteen reasons, Your Grace. Let me ask you—how many years would I have continued to wait if there wasn’t a stipulation in that awful contract that we had to be wedded by my twenty-first birthday?”
He remained silent.
“I thought so,” she said, her right hand curling into a fist. She had never struck anyone in her life, but she might make
Jealousy was one emotion he had never experienced, and refused to indulge.
All those years ago, when Portia told him that she had planned to marry Cliffton, it was guilt and sadness that had driven him to plead with her to reconsider. At her refusal, he had buried even those feelings under layers of icy control.
His control served him well when dealing with women. Unfortunately for them, he could not be manipulated as easily as other men. He also could walk away when a lover grew tiresome. No anger or guilt.
Or that had been the case until the lady who had caught his interest had blurted out her name. It surprised him that his initial reaction was a feeling of betrayal. How could this beautiful lady be the one woman he had rejected years ago? The next emotion to bubble through the cracks of his control was anger.
Hunter did not want to be attracted to the lady his grandmother had handpicked for him. He also sensed that Grace was equally unsettled by his proximity.
If Dare and Sin had not held him back after Grace’s hasty departure, Hunter was still unsure what he might have done had he caught up to her before she reached Lady Netherley’s coach.
Paddling her backside was the least she deserved.
Although his friends begged him not to follow their coach, he ignored their sound advice, telling himself that the ladies needed his protection while they traveled the streets of London.
As he prepared to knock on the front door, he had convinced himself that he was doing her a favor by confronting her. He had envisioned the poor girl sobbing in the marchioness’s arms.
However, the lady staring back at him had clearly not shed a single tear. According to Regan and the others, Grace was eager to sever all ties to him. If she had put her request into a letter, he would have considered accepting her offer.
Then he would have politely declined her request.
She did not understand that the vow he made extended beyond her protection. His honor and sense of duty was bound to the contract—as was the lady herself.
In time, Grace would understand her decision to travel to London only hurled them to the inevitable.
She would marry him.
Grace deliberately crossed her eyes, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You were content to never inquire about me to see what became of the girl you were entrusted with. Now you are staring at me as if you can somehow recover those lost years. It is a futile endeavor.”
“True.” Hunter had visited Frethwell Hall, but it was obvious no one had told her. He had regrets, but he had kept his promise to his grandmother. Lady Grace had been raised according to her station in life, and had never lacked for anything. His only failing as far as he was concerned was that he had selfishly put aside too many years for himself.
“Then what do you propose we do?” she demanded, growing frustrated by his silence.
Now that he had met her, there was only one thing he could do to make amends for his absence and keep his honor intact.
“I propose we get married.”
* * *
“No,” she said, her soft denial was reinforced with an iron will. How many years had she longed to hear him speak those very words?
Too many.
Grace had plotted her own course. With Porter’s assistance, she would figure out a way to free both herself and Huntsley.
Instead of anger, he sat back in his chair. He clasped his large hands together as his fingers tapped in a contemplative gesture.
“Why?”
Surprised by the question, she made a wordless sputtering noise. “Why? I can give you nineteen reasons, Your Grace. Let me ask you—how many years would I have continued to wait if there wasn’t a stipulation in that awful contract that we had to be wedded by my twenty-first birthday?”
He remained silent.
“I thought so,” she said, her right hand curling into a fist. She had never struck anyone in her life, but she might make
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