LITMIR.BIZ

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glared at Caine and folded the paper into a neat rectangle. He did not speak and he did not stand. The gaze of steel held fast as his lips tightened to a straight line.

      Caine pasted on a smile in an offer of civility. This was Grace’s uncle, her only family. And though she obviously had no love for the man, nor he for her, it would serve no purpose to irritate him further.

      “Good afternoon, milord,” Caine said as he approached the table and executed a congenial nod in lieu of the bow convention demanded.

      “You have no business in this club. Or with me,” Wardfelton said, his tone flat. He slapped the paper on the leather tabletop.

      “Surely I do, sir. We should discuss the contract. The marriage is in three weeks.”

      “There is nothing to discuss,” Wardfelton snapped, looking past Caine, a deliberate cut. “I made it clear that my niece is destitute, without property or funds.”

      “I thought you might want her interest served, since I am not destitute. We should decide her portion, agree to provisions should I drop dead before I inherit.”

      Wardfelton sighed, rolling his eyes. “Very well. Sit down, Morleigh. I see I shall have to speak with you about her, but it’s nothing that you’ll enjoy hearing.”

      “Nothing that will dissuade me, either.” Caine pulled out a chair and sat, certain that the man had suddenly decided to stifle his anger over Caine’s appropriation of his niece and be reasonable. “Understand that we must amend today’s contract after I inherit, for there will be more to settle on her then.”

      “I doubt either will be needed once I’ve had my say. What has Grace told you?”

      “Very little,” Caine said truthfully, unwilling to share how much he had divined from the bits she had revealed. “But I have heard that her parents died, as did her betrothed. She served as her fiance’s mother’s companion, then came to live with you almost two years ago. Have you something to add?”

      Wardfelton nodded and sighed again. He pressed his fingers to his brow. “I’m afraid I do. I had hoped not to have to reveal this. The grief affected her mind, Morleigh. I regret to tell you that Grace is quite mad. She conceals it at times, but she is rarely stable for long.”

      Caine froze, locked in denial. Of course it could not be true. Still, a shadow of doubt began to flirt, tempting certainty to desert him. Grace’s response to him had been unexpected, definitely out of the ordinary for a young unmarried woman. There was that sudden faint. And she had expressed unusual candor on such short acquaintance with him. Then there was the fact that she had admittedly starved herself, no reason given.

      She certainly seemed lucid enough, however, and he had witnessed no hysterics or incomprehensible tirades. How did this supposed madness present itself?

      “I cannot blame you for what happened,” Wardfelton declared. “Grace can be quite persuasive when she chooses and I do not doubt she fabricated some tale of woe to stir your sympathy. Some imagined plight to do with me. You see, I’ve had to keep her confined for her own safety, no choice about the matter. I thought it better than sending her to strangers in some institution.”

      Caine listened well enough, but observed even more carefully. His army command and dealing with all sorts of men had taught him that. Tongues could easily lie, but the body often spoke the truth. Wardfelton’s eyes met his only briefly now and again, as if gauging whether Caine trusted what he was saying. The man often shook his head as if he couldn’t believe himself.

      “Yet you took her to a public ball where you knew she might embarrass you before the ton?” Caine asked.

      “And so she did,” Wardfelton said with a huff. “But I had to do it. Rumors were gathering. Some thought I had done away with her. As if I would harm my own flesh and blood! They have no idea how difficult it has been to care for her at home rather than relegate that duty.”

      “That must have been a difficult decision. Did you even consider it, putting her somewhere?” Caine asked, projecting sympathy he did not feel. Wardfelton struck the wrong notes in this song of woe. It simply did not ring true.

      The earl pressed his fingers to his forehead, hand concealing his eyes, and groaned softly. “I am ashamed to admit that I did inquire. Not Bedlam, of course, but a licensed house in Houghbarton that provides such care. You see, Grace has wandered away twice and had to be brought home, kicking and screaming.”

      “But you decided against sending her? Why?”

      “Even though our own king is so afflicted, poor devil, I dreaded the scandal to my own house,” Wardfelton confided, his voice deep and sorrowful. “Madness in the family, you see … You understand my conundrum, surely.”

      “Indeed. An unfortunate situation for anyone to imagine,” Caine remarked with a nod. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, letting the silence gather, wondering what the man would say next to fill the void.

      Once again and once too often for his act, Wardfelton heaved a sigh of regret. “So you must bring her back to me, Morleigh, or let me fetch her. No one has to know why the betrothal was dissolved. We can put it about that Grace herself had second thoughts.”

      Aha. The crux of the matter. Caine stood, now impatient to be away. “No, sir, that won’t do. I said I would marry her. Once my word is given, I hold to it. Grace and I will wed, come what may.”

      The earl stumbled to his feet, almost upsetting his chair. “No! I insist … Wait. I implore you, Morleigh. Think, man. You’ll be disgraced!”

      “Better I than you, eh? You should be relieved. If Grace’s madness is ever discovered, everyone will believe I am the cause. They shall have Miss Thoren-Snipes to verify once again that Morleigh’s become a monster.” Caine smiled. “I gave her nightmares!”

      He looked directly into Wardfelton’s eyes and read fear. Caine wondered at that. “Good day to you, sir. You may have your solicitor call on me regarding a contract and your niece’s future.”

      Caine left him standing there, obviously dismayed.

      On reaching the street outside, worry began to gnaw at Caine like a ravenous rat. Could there be a grain of truth in what her uncle said? Had Wardfelton’s fear been for Grace, or for the earl himself, should his treatment of her be revealed?

      The path to truth lay with Grace and her behavior. Caine hurried back to Hadley House to observe that, praying all the while that Wardfelton was simply a mean-spirited man trying to gloss over his abuse of a helpless relative.

      Good lord, he should have listened to Trent. What had he gotten himself into with this hasty arrangement? But, as he had stated to Wardfelton, his word was his bond. His decision had been made. Grace was his now, for better or worse, whether that wedding vow had been repeated or not.

      Caine felt apprehensive about talking to Grace, though he certainly needed to after his meeting with Wardfelton. The man must be lying, but his words had required careful reflection, in case Caine’s reasoning about this was faulty.

      He spent hours after returning home reviewing the visit with Grace’s uncle. His preoccupation was so intense, he barely tasted the meal Mrs. Oliver brought him on his tray. He ate absently as he considered every word, every move, every sigh Wardfelton produced.

      Caine denied himself that last element of consideration, the woman herself, until he had examined the rest in detail. That accomplished, he would now have to judge her for himself in light of her uncle’s declaration. He was resolved that, mad or sane, he would never return her to Wardfelton, but Caine felt he should know her state of mind one way or the other.

      Grace had been left to her own devices all day. How must she feel in strange surroundings among people she hardly knew? He wanted to give her no reason to reconsider their betrothal, least of all because of his neglect of her when she was most vulnerable.

      The visit with Grace could prove awkward. Now that the matter of their marriage was settled, what would

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