“You mean I won’t get all her groats?” Gray had walked to his desk, opened the top drawer, and withdrawn a sheaf of papers. He presented them to Sir Henry. “If you’ll read the marriage agreement, Sir Henry, you’ll see that I’ve already got her. Lord Rye may find himself a rich widow to see to him, his debauched heir, and his half dozen other children. Now, either we can be civilized about this or I can beat you to a pulp and toss you out my drawing room window. Or, if you truly distress me, I can take that stiletto of yours and prick your brain with it.”
Gray gave her a white-toothed grin. He rubbed his hands together. “At which point,” he said, “your stepfather jumped at me, his stiletto at the ready.”
Jack was staring at him, utterly frozen. Eleanor leapt up, snarled in Jack’s face, and jumped off her lap and onto a wing chair.
“She’s sensitive,” Gray said.
Jack jumped to her feet. Gray had the presence of mind to jump to his feet before she ran him down. Her hands were all over his face, down his arms, then flattened against his chest. He grabbed them and held her still.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“Did he stick you with the stiletto? Oh, God, did he hurt you?”
He was pleased. She was concerned that he’d been hurt. She cared, and it more than pleased him. He laughed to hide it. He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers. She became very, very quiet. Then he spit one of Eleanor’s hairs out of his mouth and grinned down at her.
“Your dear stepfather didn’t stick me with the stiletto. I relieved him of his nasty toy and tossed it onto the grate. Actually, I thought he would cry then. Finally he drew himself up and announced that he would see me in hell before he would see me as your husband.” Gray paused a moment, his fingers still lightly stroking her hands. “I find it odd that he looks so very, well, heroic, I suppose. Yes, that’s the proper word. He’s tall and imposing, seemingly a man who’s a leader, a man of apparently fine parts, at least fine physical parts, a man one could trust and admire.”
“Oh, no, he’s not at all like you, Gray.”
He believed in that instant that if his chest expanded any further, he’d explode. She believed him imposing? A leader? She trusted and admired him? By God, he was heroic?
“No,” he said, staring down at her, fascinated, feeling so wonderful he was still in danger of bursting. “He’s not a bit like me.”
“It is such a mystery to me. My mother adored him until she died. If she ever saw through him, realized at last who and what he really was, it just didn’t matter to her. Don’t misunderstand me. Sir Henry isn’t stupid. I imagine that he was properly adoring until they were married and he had her money. Then there would have been no more need for him to be anything other than what he really was.”
“A rotter.”
“Yes. Only my mother never cared. She worshiped him. When she birthed Georgie, rather than a precious heir for him, I believed she would kill herself. To make her suffer more, he acted as though it were all her fault, that she’d birthed a daughter to torment him. I had disliked him before. After that, I hated him for his cruelty. I still do.”
“Perhaps your stepfather and my father were somehow related in the distant past. I believe I will have to make a study of Sir Henry so as to see how close their similarities.
“Now, Jack, stop this. He didn’t hurt me. Why, I even invited him to our wedding. I assured him that if he could present himself as a doting stepfather you wouldn’t mind at all. I did tell him that he couldn’t stand up with you because Mr. Harpole Genner had that honor.”
She didn’t know about this Harpole Genner. She frowned. He patted her shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll like Mr. Genner. He’s a longtime friend of Lord Burleigh’s. He’s the one who has seen t
o everything being right and proper. I could tell that Sir Henry knew about Mr. Harpole Genner, knew he was a man to respect, perhaps a man to fear. Sir Henry won’t try to muck up our wedding ceremony, Jack.”
She just nodded. She was frowning down at her black slippers, on loan from Aunt Mathilda. “I’m worried about Georgie. She’s in his power, Gray. What can I do?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Jack. I want you to stop worrying. I swear to you that I’ll make sure Georgie is safe and sound. Will you trust me?”
He saw that she trusted him. She just didn’t believe he could get his hands on her little sister.
He let it go. “Now, would you like to read your marriage settlement?”
“Yes. I should like to read all your manly stipulations.”
“Jack, let the papers sit on my desk a few minutes longer. Come here and let me kiss you. It’s the first time.”
Actually, he thought, his mouth lightly touching her, it was probably the first time that she’d ever kissed any man. “Pucker your lips,” he said against her mouth. “Yes, that’s right. No, don’t seam your lips together. Open them just a bit—that’s right.”
She was warm, her mouth soft, and she tasted sweet. His hands went unerringly toward her bottom, only to halt half an inch away. It was too soon. She wasn’t Jenny. She had no experience at all. He imagined she didn’t cook at all either.
It was daunting, her youth and innocence. He had to go very easily.
He’d never even been close to a virgin before. He was a blockhead, with a short memory. How could he forget even for a moment that he’d seen her naked, cared for her, held her tightly against him. What the devil was wrong with him?
She was conscious and full-witted now, that was what was wrong. “Smooth out your mouth,” he said as he nipped at that dimple in her left cheek.