He planned to use her, then send her away to the country. How could he be so callous? Did she mean so little to him?
Yes, she did.
What a fool she’d been. She’d believed his lies that what they shared was more than what most couples had and that he wanted to marry her. It hurt, like salt in an open wound.
Lies. All lies.
“I feel sorry for your bride, Ian,” the dowager said.
“She’ll do as she’s told,” Ian said, his voice firm with resolve.
“For someone who hated his father, you are turning out to be just like him.” With a swirl of skirts, the dowager left the hall.
For a heart-pounding moment, Grace considered returning to the dining room and pretending she hadn’t heard a thing. But she was not a coward. Her hurt veered into anger.
She stepped from behind the parlor door and into the hall. “This marriage was a farce from the beginning, wasn’t it?”
He turned around, his gaze homing on her features. “Grace. I take it you overheard.”
“Everything.”
“I apologize. I regret that you were witness to that conversation.”
“I highly doubt you regret a word of what you said, only that I’d heard it. You lied about selling the club. I realize we did not marry under normal circumstances, but I had no idea you resent being shackled to a wife.”
“I don’t.”
“You took us to Gunter’s. You led me to believe you weren’t opposed to the match…that…that there could be a future between us.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Don’t lie to me. The scandal. The hushed whispers that you caused your brother’s riding accident. That’s what this is all about. You need me to help ready your sisters for Society.”
“It was only part of my reasoning.”
“Part! It was all. I will happily help Ellie and Olivia, but not because of you, rather because I genuinely like them.”
“Thank you.”
She held up a hand. “You know how I feel about gambling. You knew!”
“Grace, you must understand. The Raven Club means more to me than a business. Even after inheriting an earldom, it’s not something I can easily part with.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. I would never have agreed to marry you had I known of your deception. But now that we are wed, my opinions do not matter, do they? I’ll simply rusticate in the country,” she said.
His jaw clenched and he remained silent.
Her anger simmered. She foolishly had hoped he was different. A rake would have walked away and let her suffer the consequences. Instead, he’d offered marriage. He’d taken Adam for ice cream…had charmed his way into her good graces and had led her to believe there would be a future for them. She’d actually begun to admire him, to care for him. But his motives were like shady specters, not easy discerned.
Even though he wanted to care for his sisters, he’d resented having to marry her, having to change his life, having to close his precious club. There was no room in his heart for a wife, for love, for anything other than his business.
He was no different from other men who disappointed. His actions reaffirmed everything she’d known since her own father had failed her so badly.
Men were inherently selfish and untrustworthy.
She tossed back her hair and glared up at him. “You will get what you want, but you should know I have demands as well.”
“Such as?”
“I want a marriage in name only.”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. “You think to keep me from your bed?”
She held her ground. “Yes. In exchange, I shall act the perfect wife at every ball and garden party. I’ll ease your sisters’ paths and encourage proper suitors.”
A muscle ticked at his jaw. “What about my continued instruction? We no longer need to attend Lady Crowley’s ball, but there will surely be others in the future. Are you going to renege on my tutelage as well? Or will you uphold your part of our initial arrangement?”
She refused to be intimidated. “I will. Nothing needs to change. You will be prepared for future balls, garden parties, and soirees.”
“And if I reject your terms?”
“Why would you? You made it clear you don’t intend to change how you live. You are free to seek other women.”
The muscle increased its ticking. “And you?”
She swallowed hard beneath his cold gaze, but she refused to back down. “If the inclination arises, then yes, I would be free to do the same.”
He took another step forward until they were nearly touching. “No.”
“No?”
“If you insist on a marriage of convenience, I’ll not be a cuckold. I’ll agree to stay away from your bed, wife. Only if you ask will I touch you.”
She struggled to comprehend his offer. “You think I’ll ask for your affections?”
He leaned close…so close his breath brushed her cheek. “I do.”
Despite everything, her heart hammered foolishly at his closeness. Damn him! He spoke with arrogance, like she would succumb to him, like he could lure her to his bed. But then he also believed she would run to another for comfort.
She took a step back. Everything she’d overheard reinforced her belief that she was doing the right thing.
Her mind spun with her predicament. There were benefits to being a married woman. Marriage offered her more freedom than she’d ever had before. She could pay social calls without a chaperone, attend whatever functions she desired without arousing gossip. She could even afford to leave London, go to the continent, and travel to her heart’s content. She no longer had financial worries. Her brother would soon go off to school and all would be well.
Her father would need to be looked after, and her stomach tightened when she thought of his troubles, but she would have to deal with those as best as she could. There was no other choice when it came to the baron.
There were innumerable pastimes and pleasures with which she could fill her hours, along with keeping a wary eye on her father. Concerning herself with a husband who would rather not be married was wholly unnecessary. She could easily resist her husband, couldn’t she?
She raised her chin and tossed her hair across her shoulder. “I agree, but do not think I will ever willingly come to your bed.”
The corner of his full lips tilted in a half grin. “Challenge accepted, my lady.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Hit harder.”
“You’re a bigger fool than I’d initially thought. What the hell are you doing here with me? It’s your wedding night,” Brooks said.
“Shut up and hit harder,” Ian said, panting.
They were in the Raven Club’s boxing room where a square ring was roped off with stakes anchored to the floor at each corner. In the center of the ring, Ian and Brooks circled each other.
“It didn’t take long, did it, to push your bride away?” Brooks said.
Ian glowered at his opponent. “Stop talking. Start fighting.” The pair rocked back and forth with nimble footwork.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Ian’s jaw clenched. He needed this. Needed to fight. They were bare-chested and bare-fisted. Both men were slightly bent, head and shoulders forward, their fists balled to strike. They jabbed and punched as they moved around within the ropes in a well-practiced athletic dance. They were well-matched, and for several minutes neither talked. Their grunts and heavy breathing, along with their shoes scraping on the hardwood floor echoing off the walls, were the only sounds in the room.