A Measure of Deceit

by Jess Michaels

  “If that is your view on it, then I think something needs to change.”

  Adrian nodded. “I agree. It’s not too late. We could go back to what we wanted. I still have the piece by Corbett, we could—”

  “Adrian, I believe it is time for us to part ways,” Connor interrupted.

  His friend trailed off and stared up at him in shock. “What?”

  Connor cleared his throat. Damn, but this was awful. “We should part ways, Adrian.”

  Smallshaw jumped to his feet with enough speed and force that his chair tipped over with a loud clatter. “You want to dissolve the publisher?”

  “No,” Connor clarified slowly. “But I want to be sole proprietor. You did not put in any money, but I do consider you a partner, so I would be more than willing to pay you a reasonable amount to buy out your portion of the work. Let us say, a third of what we agree the endeavor is worth.”

  Now that he had said it, Connor felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. This had been coming for a long time, he recognized that, but he hadn’t had the courage to address the issue until now.

  “You bastard,” Adrian said, his face turning purple.

  “Yes, we both know how true that is,” Connor said mildly. “But I fear that when I sat drinking with you, planning to rabble rouse and change the world, that being a bastard was the only way I defined myself. However, that has changed.”

  “And so you’ll push me out of all we’ve built,” Adrian sputtered.

  Connor wrinkled his brow. “I was under the impression you weren’t particularly keen on what we’d built. But I am offering you sufficient funds that you could easily publish the works of Corbett or any other rebel you wished to support.”

  “Without the name and reputation we’ve built, you know it won’t make as much of an impact,” Adrian said.

  Connor winced. His friend was right, and he could only imagine how betrayed Adrian felt. But he couldn’t, in good conscience, allow Adrian to continue as he had been. To allow him to have a platform with reach and influence when the words he spouted could breed violence and fear.

  “I am truly sorry, my friend. But it is the best way, for both of us. I hope you’ll see that one day.”

  Suddenly, without warning, Adrian charged him. His friend hit him and they staggered back together, flipping over the chairs by the window as they skidded along the floor. Connor twisted his hips and used the leverage to reverse their positions. Once he was on top of Adrian, he held the man down with his weight.

  “Stop!” he ordered. “This will not help you.”

  “I should kill you!” Adrian screamed up at him.

  The ruckus had caught the attention of the servants and Connor heard the door open behind him. “Higgins, find a few footmen to escort Mr. Smallshaw out.”

  Adrian struggled for a moment beneath him, but then went still and simply glowered up at him, his eyes filled with hate.

  “I will destroy you.”

  Connor sighed. “When you’ve had some time to calm down, I hope we can discuss this.”

  Three footmen entered the room and Connor rolled up and backed away. Adrian got up on his own and smoothed his jacket, pushing the men away when they came up to escort him.

  “I’ll show myself out,” he growled at the men before he pointed at Connor.

  Connor watched his friend…former friend…leave the room, and only then did he turn to look at Higgins. The butler, God love him, was simply standing in the doorway, utterly calm, as if Connor came to fisticuffs in the parlor every day.

  “I assume Mr. Smallshaw is not to be allowed entry again, sir?” his butler asked.

  Connor shook his head. “Not unless expressly invited by me, no,” he said. “And I will need an appointment with my solicitor as soon as it is convenient. Will you arrange it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Higgins said. “May I also bring you a whiskey?”

  Connor laughed, though he found no humor in what had just happened. “Bring the bottle, Higgins.”

  The butler nodded as he exited the room and Connor turned to lean both hands on his desk. The desk that was still disorganized from his lovemaking with Grace.

  “It has certainly been a most interesting day,” he muttered.

  But as he stood there, he couldn’t help but think of how much he wanted to talk to Grace about it all. But instead he would drown it in a bottle.

  A far less gratifying way to forget, indeed.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Sometimes the best thing you can take is a chance.”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  The next night, Grace sighed as she watched couples spin around a dance floor and wished she’d had the wherewithal to find an excuse not to attend this soiree. Except that would make her a coward of the utmost degree.

  She looked across the room and found Connor in an instant. He was standing on the edge of the dance floor with a few influential members of Society, chatting as if nothing had changed.

  To her, everything had.

  She had grown accustomed to Connor seeking her out at every party they mutually attended, staring at her, talking to her, making her squirm with anticipation of what would happen once they were alone.

  Now not only didn’t he look at her despite being just across the room, but his expression was one of tight-lipped frustration and total seriousness.

  “A drink, Your Grace?”

  Grace jumped at the sound of a man’s voice right at her elbow and turned to find Seth standing there, holding out a glass of wine for her. She smiled at her friend’s husband and took his offering.

  “Thank you, Lyndham,” she said before she drank half the glass in one gulp.

  His eyes went wide, but he didn’t comment on her action. He merely took a place at her side and looked over the party with her.

  “Boring fete, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

  “Aren’t they all?”

  “Some of them are more interesting than others,” he argued. “But not many.”

  “Recently that’s been true,” she murmured, finding Connor again.

  He had moved on to a small group of pretty younger women and their chaperones. It was her lips that pursed now, and she turned away so she would no longer be troubled by the image.

  She found Seth watching her closely and her frown deepened. She had no illusion that both Jacinda and Isabel hadn’t run home immediately after her confession about being the Lady and told their husbands the truth. She actually assumed whenever she told her friends something now, she was also telling Seth and Jason. But seeing Seth watch her like he was, his eyes soft with…God, she hoped it wasn’t pity…made her shift with discomfort.

  “You are in a very difficult position,” Seth finally said, his tone low and mild.

  She winced, but nodded. “Yes.”

  “In more ways than one,” he continued.

  She glanced at Seth. “I suppose that’s true.”

  He looked out at Connor when she wouldn’t. “From a man’s perspective, I can tell you that he wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t care.”

  She bent her head and forced emotions not to come to the surface. If Seth sensed her struggle, he continued anyway.

  “However, you’ll have to change the way things were between you,” he encouraged. “Negotiate a new way.”

  She nodded. Part of her wasn’t certain they could find a new way. Not if Connor only wanted her but felt nothing else for her. It might be enough for a short time, but ultimately she knew that would break her heart.

  “I know you’re right, but it’s hard,” she said softly.

  “When did that ever stop you?” he asked. “You’ve never shirked from a challenge, have you?”

  Grace looked up at Seth with a smile. “You are very wise. I can see why Isabel keeps you.”

  He laughed, but there was still a gentle protectiveness on his face. “I have come to consider Sheridan as a friend of a sort recently. Would you like me to talk to him?”

  Grace shook her he
ad. “Thank you, Lyndham. I appreciate the support more than you know, but no. I must be the one to talk to him.”

  Seth nodded. “It’s probably best. But you know you have not just your two best friends, but their very protective husbands behind you.”

  She reached out to touch his arm briefly. “And that means the world to me.”

  Straightening her shoulders, Grace looked out at Connor again. Thankfully, he was no longer with the pretty young women. In fact, he was alone for the moment.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “It seems the perfect time for me to start facing my fears.”

  “Good luck,” Seth said quietly behind her as she started into the crowd toward Connor.

  She hardly heard him as she moved closer and closer to the man she loved. All she could hear was the rush of blood through her veins, the pounding of her heart, the shortness of her breath.

  She’d thought him unaware of her tonight, but she could see the way he stiffened when she got closer and realized he had likely been just as conscious of her as she was of him. Something she wasn’t certain made her happy or made things worse.

  She stopped beside him and he turned toward her. His green gaze raked over her from head to toe and his voice was rough as he said, “Good evening, Grace.”

  His voice, his accent, rippled over her, and she swallowed hard as she tried to regain some kind of focus.

  “Connor,” she said softly. “I’ve wanted to approach you all night,” she admitted, making herself vulnerable even though it was uncomfortable. “I suppose I’ve been…I’ve been afraid.”

  His expression softened slightly and his hand stirred at his side as if he wanted to touch her. When he didn’t, her body felt deprived.

  “You will never have to fear me,” he said, his voice low but filled with intensity.

  She looked up at him, and she knew what she would have to do to make him understand her. To salvage any chance she had at happiness. But not here.

  “Will you dance with me, Connor?” she asked, feeling weak now that she had come to her decision.

  He nodded after a beat of hesitation. “Yes. Of course.”

  He offered an elbow and she took it, reveling in the hardness of his muscles as she wrapped her fingers around his bicep. He took her to the dance floor and slid his arms around her as the next song began.

  They didn’t speak as they spun around the floor together, but she didn’t feel that silence came from awkwardness. Connor kept his gaze firmly on her and she on him, which only solidified the bond she knew they had formed anonymously, the bond they had strengthened after finally meeting and eventually making love.

  The bond she could only hope would mark a new beginning—if she could be brave enough to give him something precious.

  When the dance ended, she stepped away from him.

  “C-Connor,” she began, her voice trembling. “I’m going to go home now.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “So early?”

  She nodded. “I’ve realized I have far more important matters to attend to.”

  He tilted his head. “Such as?”

  “You,” she whispered, holding his gaze when his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Please, I know you’re angry, I know you’re betrayed, I know there is much uncertainty between us. But won’t you come to me tonight?”

  He hesitated a moment and she saw the war within him. The pain her lies had caused mixed with the desire he felt for her. Finally, he nodded. “Very well.”

  She almost sagged with relief.

  “When should I join you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Whenever you tire of the party. I’ll wait for you.”

  He nodded slowly. “Very well. Until later.”

  She squeezed his hand and slipped away, both giddy at the prospect of what was about to happen and also infinitely terrified.

  Connor hadn’t been able to wait more than half an hour after Grace left before he followed her. Her invitation had been too intriguing to put off…and he wanted to be with her.

  Now he sat in her parlor, hands clenched in his lap as he awaited her arrival and the seduction he was certain would follow afterward.

  The door opened and she stepped just inside the room, then stopped to stare at him. She remained in her pretty ball gown from earlier in the evening and her blonde hair was still bound up in the complicated style she had worn for show.

  How he longed to strip all those trappings away.

  Instead, he rose to his feet. “Grace.”

  “I didn’t think you would come so soon,” she said as she reached back to close the door.

  He shrugged. “There is no denying how much you intrigued me with your invitation. And also how irresistible I find you. I think you know that.”

  “Even now?” she asked softly, her cheeks pink with a blush. It was so rare a sight, it slowed him in his answer.

  “O-of course now,” he stammered.

  Relief relaxed her face and guilt stabbed Connor straight in the heart. Did she truly believe that he could easily turn off his feelings for her after so long and powerful an attraction? Simply because he was angry?

  “Grace—” he began, but she cut him off by crossing the room to the sidebar.

  “Brandy?” she asked, her hands shaking as she poured him a glass.

  He watched her carefully. He’d never seen her so…nervous.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  She brought him the glass and when he took it, she immediately backed away. He didn’t drink, but stood staring at her, wondering at the anxiety and uncertainty in her demeanor. From a woman always so collected, it was quite the shock.

  “Oh please, won’t you sit?” she said, motioning to the chair he had vacated upon her entry. “This is difficult enough as it is without you standing there, staring at me as if I’ve sprouted another head.”

  He did as she asked, if only to grant her comfort.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he settled in. “I didn’t mean to make anything more difficult. I’m simply wondering why you’ve called me here. I thought it was for seduction, but I can see now that there is something more going on.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Although seduction is certainly far more attractive a concept right now. But Lyndham was right—he told me tonight that I had to negotiate a new way and this is the way.” She shook her head. “It must be the way.”

  Connor wrinkled his brow. He wasn’t entirely certain Grace was even talking to him anymore.

  “Grace,” he said softly as he set his drink on a table beside the chair. “Please. Sit down, calm yourself and tell me whatever it is that you need to say. It certainly cannot be worse than when you confessed your true identity.”

  Her face crumpled and he immediately regretted saying those words.

  “I don’t know, Connor,” she whispered. “Reserve judgment until I’ve finished.”

  She sank into the settee beside his chair and reached out to the table between them. She caught up his glass of brandy and took a sip. He might have commented on the intimacy of that action, but before he could, she drew a deep breath and began to speak.

  “Have you researched my past much?”

  He blinked. “I—well—”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right if you have. I wouldn’t be surprised if you looked into my background either when we began our affair or when you discovered my true identity.”

  He shifted. “Yes, a little. There wasn’t much there to surprise me.”

  She barked out a painful laugh. “No, on the surface it is all peaches and cream, isn’t it? The daughter of a powerful and very rich earl, raised in privilege, given the best of everything, including an arranged marriage to an equally powerful duke who I, to be perfectly honest, truly liked, admired and even loved in my own way.”

  Connor maintained what he hoped was a cool expression as he nodded. “Is the surface not the whole story?”

  “Is it ever?” she asked, meeting his stare.

  He shrugged
. “Touché, my lady. So what did I miss?”

  “Did you know I had an older sister who died when I was eight?”

  Connor stiffened both at the words and the heartbreak that entered her stare when she said them.

  “No,” he whispered.

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t surprise me. She was always hidden from the public.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Why?”

  She took a breath and once again her pain was evident in the ragged sound. “A child born with certain…defects…is not something people flaunt in my circles. She was born ill and was ill her entire life.”

  “What was her name?” he asked.

  She drew back as if surprised by his question. “Madeline,” she whispered.

  “Were you close to her?”

  “I was. My mother was not the typical woman of rank. She adored her children. This meant she spent a great deal of time with us and she insisted, against my father’s protests, upon taking care of Madeline herself instead of leaving that duty to a servant.”

  Connor’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t interrupt her, even at this surprising revelation.

  Grace pursed her lips. “My sister couldn’t speak, but I was connected to her. I was four years younger and grew up sitting on her bed. I read to her and played dolls with her.”

  When she hesitated, her eyes filled with tears. “Well, I played dolls on her bed and put them in her hands. But she watched me even if she couldn’t play. I feel like she understood. I hope she did.”

  He started to reach for her and then pulled back. She was so fragile in this moment, he feared if he touched her she might shatter and that would be the end of her story. And he wanted to know more.

  “When she died, it must have been heartbreaking for your family,” he encouraged.

  The sadness left her stare and her jaw set with icy anger. “It was for me and for my mother, but my father…”

  She pushed to her feet and walked to the fire. Once there, she drew a few long breaths before she spoke again.

  “He loathed her,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I think he found her abhorrent from the moment she was born because she was broken. He never came up to see her. He refused to allow us to speak about her in public or even at the supper table in private. When she died, he thought it was good riddance and wouldn’t even bury her in the family plot.”