Saving Grace by Michele Paige Holmes

his bedroom. Blue eyes that might have been considered striking — were they not filled with such frost — glared at her. His smile was overly bright.
    “What happened to staying close by me tonight?”
    “The last time we met was a bit too close for my comfort,” Grace said, keeping her chin high.
    Lord Sutherland’s eyes widened. “Touché.”
    She didn’t care if he thought her clever. She didn’t want him to think anything about her. She wished only that he would go away and let her handle being ruined on her own.
    “What is your relationship with Preston?” he asked.
    It was on the tip of Grace’s tongue to tell the truth — that she had no relationship with Mr. Preston — but found herself being curt instead. “That is none of your concern.”
    Lord Sutherland’s eyes narrowed in evident displeasure. “I think perhaps it is . Since rumor has it —” He paused, waiting until the dance had begun and they met at the center, where he whispered so only she could hear. “They say I have taken advantage of you.”
    Grace felt her face heat. What a vile man to whisper such words to her here, in the middle of a dance floor packed with people.
    “At the very least” — Lord Sutherland’s fingers seemed to burn into her arm as they turned around — “it ought to be your concern. By associating with Mr. Preston, you threaten his tenuous social standing.”
    “And what of your standing?” Grace asked. “Are you not concerned as well?” His manner annoyed her. “Should you be dancing with me?”
    He ignored her question. “Dance with Preston again, and I promise that after tonight, his neighbors and associates will no longer hold him in any sort of regard. In short, Miss Thatcher, he will be looked down upon as well.”
    Grace met Lord Sutherland’s gaze and could see that he spoke truth. What she did not understand was why . And why was he not at least equally concerned about his own standing?
    Perhaps he feels some guilt, she mused, remembering the way he’d treated her that night — not allowing her to leave his room, trapping her against the door, and standing close.
    She knew her face was blushing. “What do you suggest?” she asked before they split again. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he moved through the set, bestowing the fiercest of gazes upon each successive partner.
    The neighbors will not look down upon him, she realized. They will be too frightened.
    She strongly suspected that anyone who knew Lord Sutherland dared not besmirch his reputation. In the brief moments she’d spent in his company, she’d found him nothing but imposing and intimidating. If he treated acquaintances this way, she could only imagine how he must conduct himself around strangers. Though his peers might speak of his involvement in the affair behind closed doors, they would likely dare not let their feelings on the subject be known in public.
    He is a lord, after all. And though he might have fallen on difficult financial times — his estate being run down as it was — no doubt his title still carried weight here. He is a mean lord, Grace concluded. Too mean to be bullied by others or trifled with.
    And I have trifled. As he rejoined her, she felt a moment of panic. His piercing gaze seemed to see past her bravado. His grip on her hand was too tight; he swung her too close. His arm was strong around her. His hand lingered at her waist. A new and terrible worry awakened inside of her.
    What if he expects — what if he believes that since such a rumor is known …
    She didn’t allow herself to finish the thought but instead sent a fleeting smile at Mr. Preston as she whirled past him. There was no equality when comparing the two partners.Everything about Mr. Preston showed him to be a true gentleman, one so kind and generous that his neighbors would be only too happy to pounce on his misfortunate choice of guests and dance partners.
    On the other hand, Lord Sutherland need not worry over