Matthew swung back to his uncle and bared his teeth in unconcealed threat. “Speak of this lady with disrespect once more and I’ll ram your words down your throat.”
“You imagine yourself in love. There’s no point trying to make you see sense,” his uncle sneered, although he took a step backward. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the moment Matthew had loomed over him with murder in his eyes. “I’ll return when you’ve regained what pass for your wits.”
He rapped his cane hard on the floor. Almost immediately, a footman opened the door. Matthew thankfully inhaled the blast of cooler air that rushed into the room. The heat left him feeling stifled. Or perhaps it was the evil that oozed from his uncle’s pores like the stench of rotten flesh.
“Keep your slut for the nonce. Enjoy her while you can.” Lord John stalked out without another word.
Matthew stripped his coat from his sweating body, threw it over a chair and strode across to pour himself a brandy.
Against all expectations, he’d won. He couldn’t believe it.
He downed his drink in a single gulp and poured another. He turned to offer the glass to Grace, then froze in shock.
A torrent of tears cascaded down her ashen cheeks. She stood facing him, trembling so hard that her words emerged in staccato bursts. “I’m not worth your life, Matthew.”
“Of course you are.” He slammed the glass onto the sideboard so roughly that brandy spilled onto the richly polished wood. “You’re heaven and earth to me.”
Couldn’t she see that? The forbidden words I love you surged up anew. He reached her side and wrenched her into his arms. Immediately her sweet jasmine and sunshine scent filled his head.
“I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed, burying her head in his chest. Her hands kneaded his back through his shirt.
“Foolish girl,” he murmured into her soft hair. His arm tightened and he pressed her shaking body closer. She fitted against him as if made for his embrace. “You can rely on my uncle’s greed if nothing else.”
She pulled far enough away to wipe at her tears. “I hate your uncle.”
The bitter realization struck that the time for prevarication had passed. “He won’t stay defeated, Grace. You’re not safe under his dominion. Make no mistake—everything on this estate is under his dominion.”
“I can’t help that,” she said thickly.
“Yes, you can. You can leave.”
Her gaze, dark with confusion, swimming with tears, flew to meet his. “I’m as much his prisoner as you are.”
Oh, God, could he bear to tell her? He took a deep breath of the overheated air. “I can get you out.”
She searched his face as if she suspected him of joking. “You’ve always said that’s impossible. Why has that changed? How can we escape?”
He briefly closed his eyes in agony, although the image of her ardent, tear-stained face burned in his brain. “Just you, Grace,” he said with difficulty. “You’re going. I’m staying.”
She withdrew slightly and frowned. He fought the urge to tug her back into his arms, if only because soon, she’d be too far away to hold. “I don’t understand. If I can leave, why can’t you?”
“I’d give anything to make things different, but anyone who aids me is sentenced as a criminal. It happened last time.”
“I’d be with you. I can tell people what your uncle has done.”
She sounded so eager, so hopeful, he hated to deny her. “Do you think I wouldn’t sell my soul to be free and with you? But I’m a certified lunatic. I’m confined for the public good.”
“You’re not mad,” she said vehemently. “You know you’re not mad.”
“For the past few years, no. But my doctors will swear I’m dangerous.”
“Doctors your uncle bribed. He didn’t deny your charge.”
“That doesn’t mean their diagnosis is wrong.”
“It is wrong!”
“Grace, stop!” He leaned forward and kissed her hard. Tasting tears. Tasting desperation.