“No.”
“Ah, now, don’t be ungracious.” Taking down two glasses, he unstoppered a bottle and poured them both a draught. “You deserve to celebrate. When I devised my plan, I knew you were the perfect man to win over my girl, and now I see just how right I was.”
Danvers held out one of the glasses, leaving Jack little choice but to accept, else he would appear as ungracious as he’d been accused of being. He didn’t raise the libation to his lips, however.
“Besides,” Danvers continued in a conversational tone, “I needed to see how Gracie really feels about you. I must say that you’ve exceeded even my own high expectations. Masterfully done, Byron.” Raising his glass, he drank a swallow.
Jack ground his teeth. “She’s not a marionette to be manipulated at will, you know.”
Danvers shot him a hard look. “No, she’s my daughter, for whom I want only the best. She just required a push in the right direction to find what she’s really needed all along. A husband, and the babies you’re going to give her. Children I suspect you’re already well on your way to providing.”
Jack held his tongue, deciding not to satisfy the old man’s curiosity about whether he’d taken Grace to his bed yet—even if both of them knew the answer.
“I’m pleased she loves you,” Danvers said. “I can tell you make her happy. See to it you keep her that way.” The older man swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, then set down his glass. “Now, about the money.”
Bloody hell, the money,
Jack thought.
I’d almost forgotten that particular detail. Almost.
“Sixty thousand pounds will be deposited into the account of your choice as soon as notice of your engagement appears in all the appropriate papers,” Danvers stated. “The other sixty thousand will be yours the day of the wedding, along with the erasure of your gaming debt to me, of course. I assume that will be satisfactory, my lord?”
Jack’s fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. How he wished he could toss the offer back in Danvers’s face. Tell him he didn’t need, or want, his damned money. But both of them would know his words to be nothing but an empty lie. Jack might wish to rely on pride, but like it or not, he did need that money—to say nothing of the necessity of being freed of the hundred thousand pounds he owed Danvers.
His future father-in-law certainly knew how to keep him under his thumb until the marriage vows were taken. Obviously Danvers was worried Jack might bolt unless he maintained a certain amount of leverage against him. But in spite of the undeniable lure of keeping his bachelor’s freedom, Jack knew it was already too late. He couldn’t run, not without hurting Grace. And that he would not do. He’d taken her innocence, and she was his responsibility now. He wouldn’t abandon her, nor did he wish to do so, even if he could.
Glancing down, he stared at the whiskey glass in his hand.
Maybe I could do with a drink, after all?
He tossed the draught down in a single gulp, grateful for the resulting sting in his throat and the burn in his belly.
“Yes,” he said, his words sounding faintly numb even to his own ears. “That will be more than satisfactory.”
T
he following afternoon, Grace tucked a hand against her hip to keep it from trembling as she sat next to Jack on the sofa in the Clybourne House drawing room. His voice was low and smooth as he spoke to his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Clybourne, his sister Lady Mallory, and his eldest brother Edward, the Duke of Clybourne.
Try as she might not to be intimidated, she was finding the task far from easy. While it was true she’d attended school with the daughters of several aristocrats, none of them had possessed anything close to the ancient lineage and innate nobility of the Byrons. The members of Jack’s family were quite simply some of the most elegant, naturally refined people she’d ever met. How on earth would she ever be able to fit in with them?
Surely they’ll revile me for my inferior birth and wonder at Jack for bringing me into their midst?
Worse, what would they think when he told them the news of their engagement? Suddenly she realized that while she’d been woolgathering, he’d been busy doing exactly that.
“Married!” Ava Byron declared, the dowager’s still beautiful features alighting with clear pleasure. “I knew when we had your letter that something momentous was afoot, and I see I was right. But still, I never expected an engagement. Only think, I will have gained two new daughters in the same year.”
“Not to mention another sister for me,” Mallory chimed with a happy smile. “Just wait until you meet Meg. And everyone else, of course.”
Everyone else? Just how many Byrons are there?
She knew Jack had another sister, but were there more siblings than the ones presently in the room? “I shall look forward to making their acquaintance,” she murmured, deciding she’d wait and ask Jack for further explanation when they were alone.
As for the duke, he wore a frown, his gaze fixed on his brother with a look of speculative appraisal, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. But moments later, he turned to her and his expression cleared, replaced by one of warmth and kindness.
“Allow me to welcome you to the family, Miss Danvers,” he said in rich, rounded tones that instantly caused her to relax. “I always knew it would take an exceptional woman to bring Jack to heel, and I see I was not mistaken. He’s made a wise choice in you. But are you sure you’re prepared to put up with him? I fear you might yet decide you’ve made a bad bargain taking on such an unrepentant rogue.”
Her eyes widened at what she took to be his teasing candor, a half-nervous laugh escaping her throat. “Oh, he’s not a rogue. Or at least not too much of one.” She sent Jack a sideways look and caught a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “And I’m quite prepared for whatever may come, since I love him and cannot wait to be his wife. Most couples don’t start out with even that much, so what further assurances could I possibly require?”
“What indeed,” the dowager said. “Now quit baiting your little brother, Edward, and wish him well.”
The duke’s teeth flashed a wicked grin that reminded Grace forcefully of Jack. “Congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials,” he said. “I hope you know what a lucky man you are.”
Jack’s face sobered. “I do, Ned. More and more each day.” His gaze shifted to hers and lingered.
For a moment, she lost herself in the compelling depths of his azure eyes, swaying ever so slightly toward him as he took her hand and enfolded it in his own. Her pulse quickened as the seconds stretched onward, her surroundings dimming as she sank deeper beneath his spell. In silent anticipation, her lips parted, ready and waiting for his kiss.
Suddenly his mother cleared her throat.
Grace jumped, heat flowering in her cheeks like a field of scarlet poppies. She fought the urge to cover her face with her hands, knowing it would only draw further attention to her lapse. Surreptitiously, she tried to free her palm from Jack’s clasp, but brazen, irreverent devil that he was, he wouldn’t let her go. Tightening his hold instead, he leaned back against the comfortably upholstered sofa cushions, as though nothing whatsoever had occurred.
The dowager—bless her heart—took up the tea urn and refreshed the contents of everyone’s cup with an easy charm. “So,” his mother inquired with faultless timing, as she set the delicate china pot aside. “Have you decided on a wedding date?”
With their engagement only a few days old, Grace realized she hadn’t even considered the question. “We received my father’s blessing just yesterday, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been time yet to settle on the details.”
Ava Byron nodded with understanding. “Jack mentioned that you have lately been residing in Bath with your aunt. Will she be helping you with the preparations?”
Grace’s brows furrowed. “I’m not certain. She’ll be happy to aid me in selecting a few new gowns, I’m sure, but otherwise I imagine most of the tasks will fall to me.”
“To you! But no, you cannot be expected to shoulder such a weighty obligation all on your own. I realize your mother passed on some years ago when you were no more than a child, but surely there is another female relation who can aid you? A sister or cousin, mayhap?”
“No, ma’am, there is just my father and myself. I am quite self-reliant, however, so I’m sure I shall find my way in this as well.”
Creases gathered on the dowager’s forehead. “But you shouldn’t
have
to find your way. After all, you are the bride, and this should be your special time. I hope you will not take it amiss, but if I might, I would like to offer you my assistance.”
“Your assistance?” Grace repeated, her lips parting in surprise.
“Yes, if you would like.”
For a long moment Grace made no reply, taken completely off guard by the notion that Jack’s mother was not only warmly welcoming her into the family but was offering to help her with the wedding arrangements as well. A lump swelled in her throat.
“Well, child?” the dowager prompted gently.
“Y-yes. Oh, yes, Your Grace, I should like that above anything.” A fulsome smile spread across her face. “Thank you. That would be wonderful. You are so kind.”
Ava Byron beamed with pleasure. “Not at all. I adore planning weddings. And Mallory can help.”
Lady Mallory nodded in eager agreement. “Of course I shall. I love nothing so much as a good shopping expedition, and we shall have many.”
“To that fact, I can safely attest,” the duke remarked in a wry tone. “What was it this month that caused you to exceed your allowance? The ermine arm shawl you bought, or the engraved gold and pearl etui you had sent over from Rundell and Bridge?”
Mallory sent her brother a narrow-eyed glare. “Neither. It was the extra pairs of dancing slippers I ordered. Of which I was in dire need, I’ll have you know, since I’ve quite worn through my others.”
Edward gave an amused snort. “All dozen of them, hmm? Unless I’m misremembering the details of the shoemaker’s latest bill, of course.”
Mallory glared again and stuck out her tongue, clearly uncowed by her older sibling. “And I shall need that arm shawl this winter,” she defended. “The almanac says it’s going to be frightfully cold.”
Edward shook his head, while Jack let out a quiet guffaw.
“If we’re done with shawls and slippers, perhaps we might return to the topic at hand?” the dowager stated in a soft, yet firm, voice. “Now about the wedding, summer is always a lovely time of year for a ceremony. Or next fall, with its cooler temperatures and all of the leaves turning color.”
“Next summer or fall?” Jack set down his empty teacup. “But that’s months away. Grace and I aren’t waiting that long.”
His mother’s frown returned. “A year for an engagement is an excellent length of time, what with the trousseau to be designed and the church to be arranged. Not to mention deciding on the guest list and where everyone shall lodge and dine.”
“You ladies have my leave to make whatever plans you like, but I’m not waiting a year. Three months, that’s my limit.”
“Three months!” The dowager looked aghast. “Oh, not you too. I’ve barely recovered from Cade and Meg’s whirlwind wedding.”
“But only think what an expert you now are on the intricacies of hasty nuptials,” Jack said with warm persuasion. “And compared with Cade, you have plenty of time. As I recall, he only gave you six weeks.”
“Six frantic, exhausting weeks.”
“And yet you pulled off a spectacular ceremony and a reception that won you nothing but praise. Just imagine what you’ll be able to achieve with twice that amount of time.”
His mother’s lips tightened. “I ought to box your ears for such impertinence and imposition, John Richard Byron.”
Jack gave her a perfect, angelic smile. “But you won’t, will you, Mama? Not for your favorite son.”
She gave a snort that would have been indelicate had she been anything less than a duchess. “I love all my sons with equal affection, as you well know. But were I to have a favorite, it would most certainly not be
you
at the moment, given your unreasonable impatience and willful stubbornness.”
Rather than being chastened, Jack’s smile only widened.
“However,” she conceded, with a regal dip of her head, “I shall put aside my irritation for your fiancée’s sake.” Her gaze shifted, alighting on Grace. “What would you like to do, dear? You are the bride, after all.”
Grace fought hard not to squirm as every eye in the room turned her way.
Yes,
she mused,
what would I like to do?
Then she looked at Jack and didn’t need to consider a moment more.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I’d rather not wait long either. Maybe we could have a simple ceremony. Something that wouldn’t require a great deal of work.”
“If I procured a special license, we could be married here in the drawing room one evening,” Jack remarked.
Grace sent him a chastening sideways glance. “Yes, well, perhaps not quite
that
simple. I would prefer a church, or even a chapel.”
“A chapel? We have a lovely one at Braebourne.” The dowager paused and tapped a finger against her chin. “Oh, that gives me a wonderful idea. What would you say to being married at Braebourne?”
At Braebourne?
Be married at one of the most beautiful, illustrious estates in the whole of England? She would never have even considered such a notion. But oh, how idyllic, how romantic!
“Unless you would rather remain here in the city,” Ava continued. “We could inquire about St. George’s, though it’s doubtful we’ll find an available date given our time limitations.” She paused to send Jack a reproving look. “We were only able to secure the church on such short notice for Cade and Meg because it was in the hottest part of August and most of the Ton had already departed for their estates.”
“No, no,” Grace hastened to assure. “Braebourne would be lovely. If you are quite sure you and the duke wouldn’t mind, that is.”
“Mind? Of course we do not mind. Edward would be delighted to act the host, would you not, dear?”
He smiled with affable agreement. “Certainly. What’s several dozen more people come to stay when the family hordes are preparing to descend for the holidays anyway.”
The dowager clasped her hands together and let out a little chortle. “Oh, but that’s exactly the answer! The holidays. Yes, yes, it’s perfect.”
“What’s perfect?” Jack stated in an echo of Grace’s thoughts.
“Why, the timing for the wedding. Everyone will be at Braebourne, so half the guest list is done before we start. Grace can invite her father and aunt, of course, and anyone else she would like. The food and lodging arrangements will be no difficulty whatsoever with the staff already in full fettle. And I’m sure the bishop won’t turn down an invitation to spend Christmas with us. So what say you both to a holiday wedding? We could even hold the ceremony during the New Year just before Twelfth Night.”
A New Year’s wedding to usher in the start of my new life with Jack.
Grace liked the sound of that. A smile spread over her mouth, excitement burgeoning inside her. “I believe it’s a most excellent plan, Your Grace.” Angling her gaze, she fixed her eyes on Jack. “What do you think?”
“That I am hopelessly outnumbered.” Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “But if it makes you happy, then New Year’s at Braebourne it shall be.”