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limbs. She knew perfectly well what
     she could gain with this union; it burned her. And yet, it wasn’t enough.
    “I gain nothing I want, Mr. Hilliard.”
    He looked stunned. “A proud name.”
    “I’m perfectly happy with my own.”
    “A fortune.”
    “I have one, thank you. An eccentric aunt died and left her estate divided between me and her pet monkey. So you see there
     are others who value me as they should.”
    He raised a wry eyebrow. “You would have me.”
    For the first time, she felt almost like smiling, even as her heart battered against her rib cage. “An almost irresistible
     temptation, to be sure. And yet, I must refuse.”
    “You will be ruined!”
    She tilted her head, assessing. “Is it ruin to be ignored by a society that has ignored me all along? Or would it be worse
     to bind myself for eternity to a man who can’t even look at me? Have done, sir. I am content. You need not offer yourself
     up on the altar of matrimony to save me.”
    He looked oddly irritated by her answer. “And what about me?”
    She forced a smile. “After having spent time with you at Lady Kate’s salon, I feel certain you feel nothing but relief at
     my refusal. Enjoy it with my blessings.”
    Even though her heart shriveled with shame at having to baldly state the truth, Grace returned to her packing, praying no
     one saw her tremble. Was she a fool? She could have this man in her life. She could bear his children. She could see him every
     day, teach him to find happiness with her. By all that was holy, she could have him in her bed.
    And watch him wander off to every other bed in the realm.
    Grace didn’t have much. She did have self-respect. She would be betraying herself if she sold herself for such spurious comfort.
     Even to have the right to have those elegant, clever hands on her.
    She knew he still stood behind her: she had never been able to share a room with him without knowing. She could feel it now,
     a persistent hum along her skin, as if the two were connected by some kind of magnetic force, stronger now that he had touched
     her. Hoping he would never know how much he affected her, she picked up another gown and folded it,the routine keeping her from running away. Or worse, begging him to ignore her protests and marry her out of hand.
    “Miss Fairchild,” he warned, his voice lower, harsher. Not the smooth tones of a town buck. The sound, she thought, of a man
     who had fought duels. “You have no family to protect you.”
    She stiffened. “As a point of fact, I do.”
    Kate flashed a quick grin. “She’s related to half the great houses of Britain,” she said. “Including the Hilliards.”
    Grace shrugged. “My grandmother was a Cavendish.”
    “I mean close family. Not third and fourth cousins.”
    Grace looked up a moment. “There is my Uncle Dawes. He was a general with the Hussars.”
    That seemed to make an impact. “General Wilfred Dawes? The Hero of Tarrytown?”
    She allowed a smile. “Yes, indeed. He’ll surely stand by me.”
    “He’ll turn you out on the streets.”
    “Oh, do go away, Diccan,” Kate snapped, waving him off like a pesky gnat. “Somewhere between Brussels and Canterbury, you
     seem to have lost that silver tongue of yours. Until you can recover it, you won’t help matters at all.”
    “You don’t understand, Kate,” he insisted, sounding sharp. “I really don’t have time to waste.”
    Kate didn’t answer. Grace was terrified that they were communicating silently, undoubtedly concocting some kind of conspiracy
     against her. It didn’t matter. She had too sharp an image of what her life would be like with Diccan to change her mind.
    She actually let out a sigh when Diccan opened the door and walked out. She didn’t think she could have withstood him much
     longer.
    “It’s not you who will be ruined, you know,” Kate said to Grace after the door closed.
    Grace paused, the silence in the room throbbing in her ears. She couldn’t bear to look