White Regency 03 - White Knight by Jaclyn Reding

thorough kissing Lord Knighton had given her.
    All her life Grace had dreamed of her
first kiss as something tender, soft, infinitely romantic. It would take place
on a flowery river bank or on a ballroom terrace with the moonlight filtering
down through the trees. The man who would deliver her this awe-inspiring
tribute would be kind and handsome and filled with adoration for her. He would
be the man of her dreams.
    Lord Knighton was unquestionably handsome,
but any further comparison to her dream after that was lost. When he had kissed
her, her response had only been turbulent and she’d felt giddy, breathless, and
utterly chaotic inside. Nothing about their meeting had been as Nonny had said
it would be. There had been no enchantment, no gaiety, no blissful realization
of having come face to face with her life’s intended mate. There had been only
fire and suddenness and a total clashing of beings, and something else she
didn’t quite understand— something that had shaken her to her very core.
    The worst part of it was that she had
utterly humiliated herself in front of the man she was to have called husband.
She would never forget the darkness of his expression, the thinly veiled anger
that had sparked in his eyes when he’d spoken to her, so very contrary to the
light and softness she had always envisioned. He didn’t adore her. He didn’t
even like her. And that was a far from propitious preamble to a marriage.
    Grace waited until they had arrived back
at the Cholmeley town house, retiring to the study for a claret, before she
informed her uncle she could not possibly wed Lord Knighton.
    Tedric responded with something a little
less than familial understanding.
    “The devil you won’t wed him,”
he said as he poured himself a brandy. “I don’t care if you do scream all
the way down the aisle. You are going to wed Lord Knighton.’
    “Uncle, please, surely there must be
some other way to—”
    “It is too late, Grace. He has
already assumed the debt.”
    She stared at him. “What did you
say?”
    “The duke has paid my creditors in
full. It was part of the agreement of the marriage. Westover wanted any
outstanding annoyances seen to before news of the wedding came about. Twenty
thousand pounds is a great deal of money, Grace. There will be ramifications if
you refuse to marry Lord Knighton now. Legal ramifications. The Duke of
Westover is not a man to be trifled with. He has already promised to bring a
breach of promise suit
against us both if you do not go through with the wedding.”
    “I did not take his money!”
    “True… but you did sign the
marriage contract. It will look as if you agreed to wed Lord Knighton strictly
to get rid of my debts and then broke the agreement. You would have a very
difficult time explaining to a jury that you had a change of heart about
wedding Lord Knighton without having even seen the man.”
    But she had seen him, Grace thought to
herself—quite a lot of him, in fact. An image of him standing over her in all
his half-naked glory flashed through her mind before Tedric went on. “The
duke will paint you an extortionist in a very public court proceeding. And he
will win his judgment. In the end, the Cholmeley family will be ruined. Honor
and respect hundreds of years in the making will be lost—the same honor and
respect my mother spent her life trying to preserve.”
    And which you have spent your lifetime
doing everything to destroy.
    Grace looked to Nonny’s portrait above the
hearth and she knew that her uncle was right, even though he said these things
for his own advantage. Nonny would have fulfilled her duty no matter the cost,
no matter the circumstances—she would have wed Mephisto himself if she’d had
to.
    And because she had raised her granddaughter
to follow that same ethic, Grace knew she would have no choice but to do the
same.

Chapter Six
    Little Biddlington, Buckinghamshire,
England
     
    The vicar was grinning like a contented
fiend—and well