Page 25 of The Mistletoe Countess
“How could she do this to us?” Father released Grace’s shoulders and stumbled back, bent and shaken. “We’re…we’re ruined.”
Lord Astley replaced him, a mountain of seething fury towering over her. “How long have you kept her secret?”
“Kept her secret?” Grace’s bottom lip dropped. “I only discovered it two evenings ago, quite by accident.”
“That’s why you retired early,” he murmured, eyes narrowed at her as ifshewas the sneaky one. “At dinner.”
“I only kept the information to myself until she decided what she would do. If she’d planned to carry on with the engagement, I would have told Father immediately, but I’d hoped she’d do the right thing on her own.”
“So she’s left you to bear the brunt of her escape. How very magnanimous of her.” His voice ground low and deep, as close to a growl as she’d ever heard from human lips. But no wonder. She had hit him with quite the blow.
He turned and prowled the length of the rug toward her father. “You know what this means, Mr. Ferguson. Your daughter forfeited the agreement. Per our contract, you have a sum to procure.”
Her father withered into a chair, looking frail and ten years older.
“No one has forfeited the agreement.”
Lord Astley spun around to face her. “I will not marry a woman who is carrying another man’s child.”
Grace failed to recoil. In fact, his grumpiness just fueled her determination. “You still have a Ferguson bride.”
“How do you propose—” His jaw unhinged, and he studied her from brow to toe, eyes widening. “You?”
“Me.” She tilted her chin even higher, mostly because he stood so close. “The contract listed a daughter of Henry T. Ferguson to marry the honorable Lord Astley.”
“No, you were not a part—”
“If you were willing to marry a stranger for money yesterday, how is today any different? The same stipulations apply.” This part of the conversation in her head emerged beautifully. “The same exchange.Youcan choose to forfeit at your own cost, but Father’s end of the bargain remains intact.”
“You mean to take her place?” His scowl fell into a look of astonish-ment, which suited him much better. He backed away, shaking his head a few times before running a hand through his hair. “This is preposterous.”
That wasnotwhat she’d heard him say in her head. She’d hoped he’d find her choice mesmerizingly attractive. Not preposterous. “That it may be, but it still fits within the constructs of the contract.”
He blinked over at her, a look of complete bewilderment softening the angles of his face. “You…you can’t want that.”
“Sweet child,” her father gasped.
“I’ll be your wife.” Speaking it aloud drove the decision deeper, even though she choked a little on the wordwife,but maybe Lord Astley didn’t notice. “I’ve considered my future and how this will benefit me, my family, and at some point, maybe even you.” She offered a helpless shrug in the hopes he saw some of her virtues beneath her many vices. “I will not change my mind.”
Lord Astley crossed the floor back to her, his eyes narrowed slits of pure skepticism. “You’re certain you’ll marry me, are you?”
She refused to cower from the fierceness radiating off him. “I am.”
His dark gaze surveyed her, peering deep. Was he looking for her courage as much as she was? He’d have to search much longer because her knees were beginning to tremble. She braced against the fear with a silent prayer and an inner visual of Lizzie Bennet for backbone.
“But there’s still a problem, Miss Ferguson.” His expression softened a little. “I am not certainIwill marryyou.”
Chapter Eight
“Not certain?” Grace’s eyes met his, unwavering, wounded. And the sight hit him like a blow to the stomach. “You’d risk losing your home instead of marrying me?”
“It’s not about you. It’s about this farce of a decision.” He stepped back, distancing himself from the way her emotions set him off-balance, the way her choice affected him. “A deceptive bride is a worthy reason to flee from marriage.”
Her gaze flared with a sudden fury. “You do not have a deceptive bridenow.”
She was sincere, if misdirected. Confident to a fault. He shook his head. How could he view her as a bride? She was practically a child! “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Then let me see if I have it right.” She stepped closer, one ginger brow peaked high, the challenge in her eyes unyielding. “Do you, or do you not, still need money to save Havensbrooke and the Astley legacy?
