The two men stood side by side staring out into the night.

"He wants me to start calling the banns on Sunday."

Dominic swore again. "Dammit, I'd settle a house and an income on her, but the stubborn old fool won't listen to me and she won't try to talk him round. He thinks she can't look after herself."

"Well, she's very young and sheltered-"

"Don't give me that. My mother was young and sheltered and she had to look after herself and a baby in a foreign country!"

"And look how that ended. She knows he's dying, too, Dom. You can see it in her eyes. She's agreeing to this in order to give her father peace of mind."

Dominic flung him a hard look and resumed his pacing. "Blast it, she can't possibly be willing to sacrifice herself and her future happiness-and me!-for her father's peace of mind!"

"She's a noble creature!"

Dominic made a rude noise.

"Then what are we to do?" Frey said.

Dominic resumed his pacing with a brooding expression. "For God's sake, I told him the girl would be taken care of-what is there to complain of in that?" "It's all very well to speak of settlements, Dom, but Miss Pettifer would still be the butt of many sly and nasty comments."

"What?" Dominic frowned.

"It will be bruited about that you took one look at her and paid out good money to avoid marrying her."

"What rubbish! I mean the girl is plain, but there is nothing to disg-"

"Plain! Are you blind? How can you call such creamy skin, such melting dark eyes plain? And there is a sweetness of expression that-" Frey broke off.

Dominic was regarding him with raised eyebrows. "I see," he said slowly. "You're right, she's not plain."

"No," Frey muttered. "She's not. And all he's trying to do is provide for his daughter."

"By condemning her to a loveless, childless marriage!"

Frey clenched his fists and stared out into the night. There was just no answer to some problems. Or rather, money was the only answer.

They fell silent for a long time. After a while Frey said, "I understand why you're unhappy about this marriage, but what are we going to do, Dom? Her father is adamant. He has instructed me to commence the calling the banns on Sunday."

"Then I have until then to turn this thing around," Dom said heavily. "And if I fail, call the banns and to hell with us all!" As if in some macabre toast, he and Frey drained their glasses.

"I thought you were going to talk to your father," Grace said into the darkness.

"I did," Melly said after a moment. "I tried, Grace, I truly did." Grace could hear her despairing sigh from across the room. "I talked to him again just now, but he won't listen." She added with a sob, "I'm sorry, Grace, I'm so sorry." The darkness filled with the sound of muffled sobs.

Grace hugged the pillow to her, biting her lip.

The banns were going to be called on Sunday. Melly Pettifer and Dominic Wolfe's intention to marry would be announced to the world on Sunday.

Only Melly had the power to change her father's mind. And she was too paralyzed with fear to even try.

Melly feared that if she opposed his will, her father would die. She also feared that he would die and she'd be left alone and destitute. Melly could not think past her fears.

Grace could and it brought her no comfort at all.

She lay in bed, the thoughts spinning round and round in her head.

Her grandfather's old vicious whispers taunted her. "Not you, Grace. Never you.

You'll die alone and unloved..."

She pulled the pillow over her head to block it out. It didn't matter. She had been loved, even for just a fleeting moment. He hadn't said a word, hadn't declared himself, but she'd tasted ecstasy and passion in Dominic's arms.

Most people never tasted ecstasy their whole lives.

She had. So what if it had been snatched away again? She had her plans to fall back on. She would still get to see the moon rise over the pyramids. But the moon was distant and cold, not hot, intense, and golden like his eyes.

And the pyramids were stone, not hard, warm flesh.

And he hadn't ever actually said he loved her.

Slow tears welled, soaking Grace's pillow. She scrubbed them from her cheeks and thumped the pillow into a different shape. She would not cry. She would not!

She would plan and think and try.

In the room across the hall a frail, old man tossed and turned, racked with pain and anxiety, fearing to sleep lest he die before his daughter's future was secured.

Chapter Sixteen.

Many women long for what eludes them, and like net what is offered them OVID.

"How could you agree? After all you said to me yesterday morning, how could you just turn around and agree to let Frey call the banns next Sunday?" Grace and Dominic had met the next morning in the place where they'd first made love.

He frowned. "I know. It's a damned nuisance. I had hoped to escape it. But it won't affect you and me." He caught her to him and kissed her. "Good morning, love."

She pushed him away furiously. "Not affect you and me? What are you talking about? Of course it will affect us!"

"Well, if it upsets you so much, we shall leave immediately after the wedding."

She stared at him, confused. "Which 'we' are you talking about?"

"You and me, of course. You've told me of your dreams: I'll take you traveling We'll sail into Venice at dawn on the most beautiful yacht you've ever seen. I'll take you to Egypt, and together we'll watch the moon rise over the pyramids and-"

"After you've married Melly Pettifer?"

He nodded. "Purely for convenience and in a white marriage."

Grace was thunderstruck at the barefaced audacity of him. "You expect me to become your mistress!" He grinned at her. "Not become, love. You already are my mistress. Or have you forgotten yesterday morning already?"

She wanted to scream.

"Is that it? Do you want me to remind you?" He stepped forward and she thumped him as hard as she could on the chest.

He rubbed it. "Ouch! What was that for?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "I presume you don't mean to insult me-"

He looked horrified. "Insult you? No, of course not! Is that what you think?" He reached out and hauled her against him. "I promise you there is no insult intended." She tried to wrest herself out of his embrace but he effortlessly restrained her.

"I'm not letting you go until you understand."

"I'll never come to that sort of understanding," she flashed.

"I don't know how you think a mistress will be treated, but I promise you, you don't understand. Just listen to what I have to say."

Grace wasn't sure he understood at all. But she was willing to listen, at least. "Why would anyone choose to be a mistress?"

"My mother was much happier as a mistress than as a wife."

"Your mother?'

He nodded. "It's a long story, but put simply, my mother married well, or so society thought. But she was utterly miserable as a wife. My father was a brute, and she was trapped. To cut a long story short, she ran away and much later, she fell in love with a man, also trapped in a marriage without love. He was a rich man and he begged my mother to become his mistress. She used all the arguments you used just now, but he wore her down, and she loved him and was lonely so eventually she agreed to become his mistress. He loved her for herself, not for what she could bring to a marriage, and... It was a love for all time. A love such as the poets and minstrels celebrate."

She swallowed.

"When he died, losing him broke her heart, and within a few months she, too, died." She could not live without him."

She closed her eyes. She could not bear to see the pain in his, knowing she would only add to it.

"This is what I offer you: my heart. Not some tawdry exchange of money for favors, but a love with no fetters and legalities, where we can choose each other freely, regardless of birth or wealth. I will bestow a settlement on you at the start, free and clear. You would have no financial obligation to me, and no obligation to stay unless you want to stay. You will be wealthy enough to leave me if you want and to live well for the rest of your life. All that will bind us to each other will be love."

She withdrew her hands from his clasp. They felt cold. "I'm sorry, I cannot be your mistress," she said softly and pushed him away.

He grabbed her back. "Think about it. Don't reject the idea out of hand. We could have a wonderful life together-better than a marriage."

She thought about it for half a second and shook her head. "I can't possibly be your mistress-especially not if Melly is your wife."

He dashed the question of Melly away with an impatient gesture. "Don't worry about her. This is about you and me!"

"It's not just about Melly. I don't want to be just your mistress-I want more from life-from you!-than that."

"There's no just about it. You would be, you are everything to m-"

She laid a finger over his mouth and said sadly, "No, I love you, Dominic, but I want everything. I want to marry you, to live with you, to build something together with you, here at Wolfestone, to give you children and grow old with you."

"You don't understand," he said urgently. "Mistresses are much better off than wives."

Grace shook her head. "You're wrong. You don't know who I really am. I'm not really a hired companion-I'm Melly's friend. We went to school together."

"I suspected as much. But-"

"I'm not poor, or an orphan, either. And my name is not even Greystoke. It's Grace, Grace Merridew." He was silent, so she added, "Of the Norfolk Merridews. My grandfather is Lord Dereham of Dereham Court in Norfolk, and my great-uncle is Sir Oswald Merridew. Lady Augusta Merridew is my great-aunt by marriage, not my sponsor. One of my sisters is married to a duke, another to a baron, and a third to a baronet. I'm an heiress and-" She stopped, knowing she was babbling. "So there is no question of me living with you as your mistress."

"I see." Dominic swallowed. "But why-"

"I disguised myself to come down here and boost Melly's moral courage so that she could break her betrothal to you." She added bitterly, "We neither of us understood the situation properly. And Melly has no moral courage!"

She pressed her lips firmly together until she'd mastered herself, then said in a voice that wobbled, "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I know Melly has tried. It's her father who's so stubborn. But whatever the reason, I can't be your mistress.

'Though it might suit some women perfectly, it's not enough for me. You say marriage can be a trap, but to my way of thinking, it's a half life you're offering me, Dominic Wolfe. And so I must say thank you, but no, thank you."

He sat staring at the ground for a long time. Finally he said, "Why didn't you tell me all this earlier? About who you really were? I knew you were an unusual companion, but all sorts of women become companions and I just thought you were a unique sort of companion." His eyes darkened. "You are unique."

She hung her head. "I thought of telling you so many times. I wanted to, but..."

"But?"

She hesitated, wondering how to explain. She was going to sound horridly conceited. "Every man who's ever shown an interest in me knew before he met me who I was, who all my relations were, and what my fortune was, almost to the last guinea-I am an heiress, did I mention that?"

He glared at her. "I couldn't care less if you're the richest woman in the world! That's not what I want from you."

She gave him an uncertain smile. "I know, and that's why I didn't want to tell you. You're the only man who's looked at me and seen... me. Not an heiress, or a beauty, or a well-connected aristocrat. Just me. Ordinary Grace Merridew. It was... irresistible."

"You're wrong about that, actually."

She looked puzzled.

"I do see a beauty when I look at you. And there's nothing ordinary about Grace Merridew."

She bit her lip. "My hair is dyed this ugly color and these freckles are false."

He just looked at her in a way that was breaking her heart, so she added almost desperately, "You said yourself my freckles were odd."

"That's true," Dominic said softly. He'd had enough of her keeping him at arm's length. "Odd, but delightful. How did you make them?" He wasn't even going to try to understand the rationale behind the freckles but he'd feign interest in anything if it got him close to Greyst-Grace again. He peered earnestly at a freckle.

"Henna. It's this stuff you paint on and it dries and stains your skin. See, they're fading now."

He moved closer, pretending to look at her skin. Frowning intently he cupped her face in his hands to get a better look. He ran his thumbs along her cheeks. "So smooth and silky," he murmured. "And the freckles do seem to have faded a little. It wasn't the lemons from Mrs. Tickel that did the trick, then? Or the buttermilk from Mrs. Parry?" He winked.

Her skin warmed under his fingers. "You knew about that?"

Dominic nodded, gazing down into her face. God, she was lovely.