This man was a stranger with hard and remorseless gray eyes, hollow cheeks, thin lips, and a jaw so hard and tense, it looked as if the bone might snap if he applied any more pressure to it.

  Chastity had no idea what had happened to bring about this change in Grayson, but she had a far more immediate problem of her own to deal with. The most urgent being the marriage proposal she must decide upon before her suiter called upon her tomorrow for her answer.

  Even the thought of it was enough for her eyes to sting from the hot tears now wishing to fall. This response was all the more alarming because she was not usually a young woman who wasted time and energy on feeling sorry for herself, let alone crying. Rather, she looked at a problem logically and searched for a solution.

  The problem of this unwanted marriage proposal had presented itself so unexpectedly earlier today that Chastity was still reeling from the shock of it.

  Having Grayson arrive at the Frobishers’ ball after all, only to treat her so impatiently and talk to her so unkindly, really was too much. Enough so that Chastity was unable to hold back a choking sob as the hot tears spilled over her lashes and down her cheeks.

  Grayson stared at Chastity as he heard her sob and then saw the tears begin to fall before she raised her hands in front of her face to hide the wet tracks.

  Tears caused by his harsh impatience with her since his arrival?

  He was still just as angry with her now as he had been earlier today after Lincoln had questioned his gullibility. But Grayson had not thought his behavior this evening to be any more arrogant or unyielding than it usually was. Certainly not enough to warrant Chastity bursting into tears.

  Were the tears merely another ploy on Chastity’s part, in the hope of garnering his sympathy and dissipating his anger?

  If so, she was wasting her time, because Grayson had been angry for hours now, and no amount of crying on Chastity’s part was going to change that.

  Besides, as was the case with most gentleman, Grayson found the sight of a woman’s tears to be most unpleasant. Not only because it usually resulted in the woman’s appearance becoming most unattractive—a red nose, bloodshot eyes, and rough-looking cheeks—but also because it usually meant the man deemed responsible for those tears was going to be asked to apologize for something he had, or had not, done.

  In Grayson’s experience, it was usually the latter, but the man usually ended up apologizing anyway in order to restore peace and harmony.

  Not this time.

  “I suggest you cease those crocodile tears immediately so that we might settle this outstanding matter between us,” he stated harshly.

  “They are not crocodile tears,” she choked.

  “Of course they are,” he scorned.

  Chastity drew in a shuddering breath before slowly lowering her hands and then lifting her chin to look at him.

  Grayson’s anger only intensified when he saw that her face did not show any of those unattractive signs of tears he so despised. That instead she somehow only managed to look even more beautiful. Her eyes were a deep and tear-wet green, her cheeks pale and creamy smooth, her nose as small and pert—and showing no signs of redness—as usual.

  Nor in any of his imaginings as to how their conversation this evening would progress had Grayson ever imagined it including the words Chastity now spoke. “I have decided I must withdraw from our wager, Your Grace.”

  Grayson stared at her incredulously. “You are aware of what will happen if you do that.”

  She gave a slight inclination of her proudly tilted head. “You will demand payment of my father’s debt to you.”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze lowered. “I am to be married soon, and I am sure that my husband—”

  “You— I— What…?” Grayson, never at a loss for words, usually of the cutting variety, suddenly found himself unable to formulate so much as two words together let alone a full sentence.

  Chastity was to be married?

  Grayson’s inquiries about her before they met had not mentioned her showing a preference for any of the young gentleman who flattered and fawned over her at Society events, let alone that she was about to marry one of them.

  “Who?” he now demanded to know.

  She looked startled by his aggression. “I do not believe that to be any of your—Grayson!” she gasped as he once again took a firm grip of the tops of her arms.

  He shook her. “Who are you betrothed to?”

  Her lashes lowered. “No one as yet. But he has asked for my father’s permission, and received his approval, and I fully intend to accept the marriage proposal when the gentleman calls upon me tomorrow afternoon.”

  Grayson released her so abruptly, she staggered slightly before steadying. “What gentleman?” He spoke through thinned lips.

  “I believe my future husband should be the first to learn I intend to accept his marriage proposal,” Chastity dismissed.

  How dare she calmly stand here in front of him and tell him, after their intimacies of the evening before, that she was about to become betrothed to and marry another gentleman?

  A man she refused to name.

  “Tell me who he is.”

  Tell me who he is, Grayson demanded of her with his usual arrogance.

  Except Chastity could not bring herself to say the gentleman’s name.

  Indeed, she shied away from even thinking of taking that man as her husband.

  How could her father even think of this as being an acceptable marriage proposal, let alone expect her to be pleased and excited about it?

  Considering the debt her father had accrued so easily with Grayson this past week, Chastity could easily guess the reason her father now looked with such a favor upon the respectable and wealthy gentleman who had approached him and requested his permission to marry her.

  Her father was either in debt to that gentleman too, or he had been promised that her future husband would pay off his debts. Or possibly both.

  Because her father knew nothing of the wager she was making with Grayson to achieve that same result.

  Nor would Chastity ever tell him of it. A respectable marriage, even to someone Chastity didn’t love or want, was far less scandalous than entering into a wager, win or lose, with the ruthless gentleman named Grayson Vaughn, the Duke of Flint.

  “Tell me this young buck’s name now, or I swear I will put you over my knee and spank you. I shall continue spanking you, even if you beg me to stop, until you reveal his name,” Grayson warned darkly.

  Chastity’s laugh was a one of choked despair, not humor. “My future husband is neither young nor fashionable,” she stated dully.

  Grayson looked taken aback. “Then what is he?”

  “Respectable. Wealthy. Old,” she choked over the last, completely unable to prevent the tears from once again cascading hotly down her cheeks.

  She was surprised she had any tears left. She’d already cried so many tears this afternoon after retreating to her bedchamber following that damning conversation with her father.

  “Chastity.”

  She raised her chin, the gentleness of Grayson’s tone having managed to penetrate her despair more easily than his previous anger had done.

  “Who are you to marry?” he prompted softly.

  She closed her eyes, having to dig deep within her in order to find the fortitude she needed to even say the name out loud.

  She felt somehow that once she told Grayson the man’s name, her fate would be forever sealed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  All of Grayson’s previous anger toward Chastity now seemed to have disappeared in the face of what he could clearly see was her genuine despair.

  An emotion at the thought of marriage to this as yet unnamed man that went far deeper than any she had displayed when she agreed to enter into a wager with Grayson.

  A wager she had told him she no longer intended to make.

  His disappointment at learning that felt like a heavy weight in his chest.

  His anger with Chastity earlier today had been completely genuine, and he had met her this evening with the intention of making her pay for what he had believed to be her duplicity. But he believed even Lincoln would have to admit that Chastity’s tears now, indeed her whole demeanor of utter helplessness, and her asking to withdraw from their wager could not be anything but genuine.

  “My God, Chastity.” Grayson bent slightly in order to lift her into his arms, after having once again seen her sway where she stood.

  He carried her across the room before sitting on the couch closest to the warmth of the fire, Chastity sitting on his thighs, his arms continuing to hold her close.

  In return, Chastity threw her arms about his neck and turned her face into his chest as the deep and heartbroken sobs shook her slender body.

  Grayson allowed it for several minutes before lifting her chin so that he might see her face fully. A face that was now bereft of all color except for those magnificent emerald-colored eyes and the natural redness of her bow-shaped lips. Several tendrils of her golden hair had escaped their pins and now curled enticingly about the tenderness of her hollowed cheeks and slender throat.

  He wanted nothing more than to reassure her that she didn’t have to marry anyone she didn’t wish to marry, as she obviously had no wish to marry her “old” suitor. Although how old that was, Grayson had no idea.

  He had fourteen years on her himself.

  Did Chastity consider him old?

  Not too old to take as a lover, obviously.

  But why had Hall accepted such a match for his daughter in the first place?

  Could it be because the other man had offered to pay off all of Hall’s debts?

  If so, Grayson would pay them and excuse Hall’s debts to him.

  He would also, he decided grimly, be having words with his sister as to the suitability of the gentleman she was considering marrying.

  Damn it, was he behaving the fool again?

  Could it be that Chastity’s tears, despite appearing genuine, were merely being shed as a means of persuading Grayson into promising her those things?

  If that was so, then didn’t she deserve to be married to a man she obviously didn’t want?

  Perhaps, but Grayson still couldn’t persuade himself to accept the idea of knowing, once Chastity’s betrothal to the “respectable, wealthy, but old” gentleman was announced, that she would never have reason to come to him again.

  Perhaps not because of her father’s debts, but would she want to be with him anyway?

  For the two of them to share even deeper intimacies than they already had?

  Grayson had never entered into a relationship with a married woman, possibly because he was well aware of how he would feel if he were the cuckolded and humiliated husband being lied to and laughed at behind his back, not just by his wife and her lover, but all of Society.

  Whatever the reason, married women had always been anathema to him.

  Would he be willing to make an exception if that woman was Chastity?

  He hoped his resolve on that subject would never be put to the test.

  Besides, Chastity wasn’t accepting this man’s proposal until tomorrow. Which meant they still had tonight.

  A single night to satiate this clawing desire he felt to own, possess, and claim every delectable inch of her.

  “Grayson, will you take me to your home and make love to me?”

  Those words were so in tune with Grayson’s own thoughts that for several seconds, he thought he must have imagined Chastity saying them. A glance at the earnestness of her expression and the pleading in her pained eyes told him that he hadn’t.

  “Please say yes, Grayson,” she encouraged huskily. “Before I am promised to marry another man tomorrow and my conscience will no longer allow it.”

  “You have a conscience?” he mocked, desperately trying to hold on to the anger which had fueled him for most of the day.

  Her chin rose. “I have. Can you claim the same?”

  Did Grayson have a conscience?

  Of a sort, he acknowledged wryly.

  The sort that accepted that if Chastity wanted him to bed her before she was betrothed or married to this other man, he would not refuse her.

  “Before I agree to anything, I should first like to know the name of the man you are to marry.”

  God knows he didn’t wish to inadvertently find himself seated next to the blighter at his club or the Houses of Parliament. There were certainly enough old farts there for that to easily be a possibility.

  Chastity swallowed before speaking in a quavering voice. “I— It is Sir John Carlson.”

  Sir John Carlson?

  Dear God, Grayson’s uneasiness regarding the older man had been justified after all!

  Not only was the other man at least thirty years older than Chastity, but he had been married twice already, both of those wives having died less than five years into the union. Nor were there any children from either marriage, so it was even possible Carlson was impotent.

  One of those deceased wives had been Chastity’s own aunt.

  Was it even legal for Carlson to marry the niece of his deceased wife?

  No doubt Carlson would know that it was. The man was a lawyer, after all.

  Even so…!

  “Does your father owe him money too?” Grayson demanded scornfully.

  Chastity blushed a little at the disgust in Grayson’s tone. Mainly on her father’s behalf. Although why she should be the one to feel embarrassed about this situation, she had no idea.

  Her father hadn’t mentioned any debts when he told her of Sir John’s offer of marriage, but Chastity had instinctively known they must exist. Why else would her father approve of her marrying a man who was even older than he was and who had once been married to Aunt Jane? No doubt the other man had offered to pay off her father’s debts once Chastity became his wife.

  Until today, Chastity had always rather liked Sir John. Aunt Jane had seemed happy enough with him, and Chastity had always enjoyed the couple’s company whenever they dined with them.

  But that liking of Sir John had been when he was first only her father’s lawyer, then her aunt’s husband, and later Jane’s widower. Chastity heartily disapproved of him as a husband for herself.

  Except she could see no way out of accepting his marriage proposal without it causing insult to Sir John and deep awkwardness to Chastity and her father. Especially if her father, as Grayson had now implied, was in financial debt to the older man.

  If that was the case, then Chastity wanted to take something for herself first.

  That something was Grayson.

  “I presume that might be the case,” she answered him heavily. “If not, then the marriage will be a guarantee against any future debts he might incur. But I shall not be accepting Sir John’s offer until tomorrow,” she added determinedly. “Which means I may still do exactly as I wish tonight.”

  “And you wish to do me?” Grayson drawled.

  Her cheeks heated at his crudeness, but she nevertheless still managed to meet his gaze without flinching. “I wish to know all the sexual pleasures a virile and experienced gentleman such as yourself might share with me.”

  Grayson was absolutely certain, and to hell with what Lincoln chose to believe about her, that he had never met, nor would he ever meet, another woman quite like Chastity.

  She was courageous and outrageous at the same time.

  An alluring mix of innocence and sensuality.

  Quiet—his little mouse—and yet bold.

  Grayson believed it might take a lifetime to come even halfway to knowing and understanding such a complex woman.

  A lifetime which, on the morrow, Chastity intended sharing with another man.

  Meaning, as Chastity so boldly declared, they only had the rest of tonight to share and experience every sexual pleasure Chastity had ever dreamed of and some, Grayson felt sure, she had not.

  “Are you sure that is what you want?” He might be known in Society as being a heartless bastard, by the matrons especially, because of his determination to withstand their attempts to marry him off to one of their daughters. He was equally as decisive when it came to business. But Grayson had never, and would never, take a woman without her full consent.

  “Very,” Chastity stated without hesitation.

  Grayson studied her for several long seconds before nodding. “Very well.”

  If tonight was all that he would ever have with Chastity, then he intended to enjoy every minute of it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “What did you tell my father?”

  Grayson glanced to where Chastity sat across the carriage from him. He had considered sitting next to her, but in the end decided not to do so. He had no wish to begin their sexual explorations together inside his rocking carriage.

  His top lip turned back as the memory of the conversation he’d had with Nicholas Hall while Chastity went in search of her cloak and bonnet.

  He shrugged. “I explained that you were again feeling unwell and I had offered to escort you home. That once you reached there, you informed me it was your intention to go straight to bed without bothering to call for your maid, and that you did not wish to be disturbed until the morning.” At no time had Grayson said which home he intended taking her to, he recalled derisively.

  Chastity’s eyes widened in the glow of the lit lamp inside the carriage. “And he accepted that?”

  Grayson raised arrogant brows. “Why should he not?”

  There had been no reason for Hall not to accept it when Grayson hadn’t hesitated, after the older man seemed taken aback at his intention of escorting Chastity home, for him to glance pointedly across the ballroom to where Rowena stood in conversation with several other ladies. Adding the gentle verbal hint that they might all one day be family had convinced Hall into accepting the situation. The other man had even thanked Grayson distractedly for showing such consideration toward Chastity, before heading across the room to Rowena.