Candice Hern by Lady Be Bad Page A

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    Rochdale removed his hat and placed it on a table, then dragged his fingers through his hair to give it the disheveled look he preferred. He was going to kiss Grace, and he might as well make himself attractive for her. The too-long hair that fell in waves over his brow and ears gave him a slightly disreputable look that most women found irresistible. They might pretend to prefer the perfectly groomed and polished gentleman of the ton , but what they really wanted was the uncivilized rogue. And Rochdale aimed to please.
    There was also the added unruly appeal of a purple bruise under his left eye, a souvenir from last night's farce, along with a cut over his eyebrow. Damn that puppy Burnett. He had a surprisingly powerful right. The young fool had knocked Rochdale clean off his feet. It had been worth it, though, for the staggering good fortune that had brought Grace Marlowe with him. What was a bruise or two if it meant expediting the resolution of the wager with Sheane, bringing Albion into his stable?
    He had begun to study the paintings, figuring he was in for a long wait, when he heard footsteps on the marble floor of the hall. He turned just as Grace reached the anteroom door, wearing a simple pink dress with long sleeves and a ruff of lace at the neck. Her hair was pulled into a twisted arrangement at the back of her head, held together with a large comb. She paused in the doorway, gray eyes flashing, and lifted her head so that she seemed to look down upon him, even though he stood taller.
    "Lord Rochdale."
    He swept her a bow. "My dear Mrs. Marlowe, you look surprised to see me. I told you I would call on you this afternoon, did I not?"
    "I had rather hoped you'd forgotten about that."
    He flashed a smile. "On the contrary, I have thought of little else." He'd been holding a small bouquet of pink carnations and ivy, and he held it out to her now. "Will you accept these as a token of my appreciation for the pleasure of your company last evening?"
    Grace stepped into the room but kept her hands at her side and did not take the flowers. A flicker of uncertainty gathered briefly in her eyes, as though she wanted to reject the flowers but knew it would be rude to do so. For a long, silent moment her indignation almost visibly faded in and out while she stood still as a statue. Good manners won the day at last, however, and she reached out and took the bouquet. "Thank you. They're very pretty."
    "And match your dress. What a clever fellow I am, eh?"
    She lifted her elegant eyebrows as if to challenge that statement, but did not. "I appreciate the gesture, my lord, but I am afraid I have guests and must return to them. Thank you for —"
    "Ah, but there is something else. Surely you have not forgotten why I have come?"
    She glared at him without comment. She had not, of course, forgotten. The way she maintained her distance, he was certain she remembered exactly what to expect.
    "I have brought something else for you." He reached into an inside pocket of his coat and brought out a tiny book, no bigger than a deck of playing cards, bound in white leather. "Please, take it."
    She hesitated a moment, then placed the flowers on a nearby table and took the small volume he offered. Her fingers touched the gold embossed lettering on the cover. Holy Bible . She stiffened slightly, then looked up, her face set into a stern mask. "It's lovely."
    "Open it to the page marked by the ribbon."
    Clearly she did not wish to do so, and she continued to stare at him owlishly. Perhaps she already knew what she would find. In fact, he would be astonished if she had not pulled out the family Bible the instant she'd returned home last night.
    "Go ahead," he said. "Read it. I believe you will agree it is most interesting."
    She stared at him so long he thought she might refuse, but she finally opened the volume to the marked page. Her eyes scanned it, then closed, as though unable to face the truth. Her face paled, and he realized she had