Chapter 3
GRACE
Of course, she was happy!
Grace kept repeating it in her mind, pushing away an unsettling feeling deep down that didn’t make sense.
This was the day of her freedom—marrying Charles, the honorable earl. She was going to be a lady. But most importantly, she would be free from her guardians. At twenty years of age, she was finally shaking off the chains that had held her captive for so many years.
“Eden?” she called softly for her maid.
She studied herself in the mirror, fixing her veil as she took in her simple but tasteful bridal gown, the lace covering her slender shoulders and arms, the too-pink blush and too-bright eyes.
She had taken a sip of opium to calm herself, but now that she was about to walk out of the small suite in the church dedicated to dressing up, her nerves started tingling for reasons she didn’t want to confront.
She should be happy, but instead, unease scratched at her heart.
Grace wished Rivka was with her. But her best friend was hiding somewhere among the guests.
After the events five years ago, Grace’s guardians didn’t let Rivka anywhere close to her.
The two had been meeting in secret. But of all people, Rivka was the one Grace needed today. Perhaps the only one who cared.
Eden, the maid, smiled in the mirror, peeking from behind her. “You are beautiful, miss! His lordship will be mesmerized!”
“But where’s Auntie? It is almost time.”
Grace walked hurriedly to the door and swung it open, only to come face to face with Charles, scurrying by in the hallway.
“Oh, dear…” he mumbled with a shocked look on his face as he fixed his tie.
“Charles?” Grace winced at the sight of her groom with his hair slightly disheveled and a blush creeping up his cheeks. That familiar floral scent so out of place wafted off him. It wasn’t hers or his, though she knew very well who it belonged to.
“It is…” bad luck to see your groom before the ceremony .
“Grace! Here you are,” he mumbled, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
The stomping of feet down the hall made their heads turn.
Grace frowned at the sight of the men following her aunt and uncle, who were her legal guardians.
Their faces were blank masks. Uncle sucked in his cheeks as he approached. “I’m afraid there is an important matter to discuss.”
The four men in dark suits who accompanied them were strangers, out of place on a day like this. But only one immediately drew Grace’s attention.
Him .
She felt a skip in her chest at the sight.
He was an intimidating man, though not a day older than thirty years of age.
Grace had seen him before. It was impossible not to recognize those striking green eyes that had unnerved her the several times she had seen him at her concerts.
And the scars. The four symmetrical lines across the right side of his face made his handsome features somewhat brutal.
He was taller than everyone, his shoulders wide. His expensive three-piece suit hugged his impressive body perfectly. His presence filled the hallway, making everyone else seem too small.
But his sharp gaze wasn’t kind.
That gaze didn’t bring good news.
That gaze was trouble.
Drasko Mawr, the Diamond King, the richest man in London—Grace remembered the newspaper headlines.
What was he doing here?
His face was expressionless, but those eyes—oh, they said so much that remained silent, none of it good.
Her insides twisted with a sudden instinct— run. Unable to look away from him, Grace found herself stumbling backward, tripping on the hem of her bridal gown, into the dressing room, her heart pounding loudly—thud, thud, thud.
“What is happening?” Charles’s voice was slightly angry but unusually submissive as everyone crowded the room.
Something was so very wrong. No business was more important than the ceremony that was about to happen with a church full of waiting guests.
Without a word, the tall man reached inside his suit and produced papers.
Frozen in trepidation, Grace watched as one document was handed to Charles and another to her uncle. The other three men stood with their hands clasped in front of them.
The man in charge took off his derby hat, set it on the table, and, leaning back against it with casual slowness, pulled a cigarette out of his cigarette case.
“May I?” he asked, flicking his eyes at Grace, of all people.
He stood just a little away from Grace yet seemed giant.
The musty scent of cologne and tobacco tickled her nostrils.
Everything about him—his suit, the gold chain across his vest, the rings on his fingers—screamed wealth.
Yet his skin was weathered from the sun, a tone darker than everyone’s.
His green gaze was so intense that it kept her hostage.
His facial scars were so pronounced that they gave his handsome features a brutal edge.
She nodded absently.
The match he lit was like a splinter in his big hand. Its hissing made her flinch. Yet, she didn’t utter a word. No one did, as if the mere presence of the man sucked the air out of the room.
“Oh, God,” Charles exhaled loudly, clutching his hair while reading the document.
The stranger took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled leisurely in Charles’s direction.
“Why now? Why today?” Charles’s gaze snapped to the man.
“That was the agreement.” His voice, low yet assertive, rumbled through every cell of Grace’s body.
“It could have been any day. Anything could have been the collateral. I merely follow the instructions.” He handed the pen to Charles.
“You do have a choice. Not signing the paper is one of them. In that case, my men and I shall leave. But as we all know, that will be a big loss on your part.”
“What is he talking about?” Grace asked but was ignored.
With irritation, Charles snatched the pen out of the man’s hand. “This is unspeakable. This wasn’t… Ugh.”
He signed angrily, then pushed the document to the man.
“Charles?” Grace repeated and was ignored, yet again.
Her uncle signed his paper, too, and handed it to the man, who folded it carefully and tucked it inside his jacket as the cigarette burned between his lips, smoke curling around his face.
Uncle finally met Grace’s eyes. Aunt fidgeted with her fingers, averting hers.
“Dear,” Uncle said to Grace, “I’m afraid your marriage to Charles is no longer possible.”
If Grace wasn’t so bewildered, she’d laugh. The words didn’t make sense.
Charles moved first, walked up to her, and took her hands in his. “My love, I am so sorry, so awfully sorry for what is happening. I?—”
“This is some sort of misunderstanding, is it not, Charles?” Grace asked with a nervous chuckle, refusing to accept what he was saying.
“It is not. And there can be no other way. You are… You deserve better than me. And you don’t deserve what is happening. But we cannot be married. Not now. Not ever.”
He dropped her hands abruptly and nervously raked his fingers through his hair. “My apologies,” he said and rushed out the door.
Loud sounds wafted in from the hallway—male voices, commanding and authoritative, a commotion, collective steps, screams.
But none of it shocked Grace as much as the sight of her fiancé disappearing into the hall.
Blood pounded in her ears. The room suddenly swirled around her. The ground roiled under her feet.
This cannot be.
“Uncle? Auntie?” She slowly turned to face her aunt. “What is going on?”
And there it was again, the familiar coldness in her guardians, the way they always were with her, controlling and apathetic as if she were a burden.
“I am afraid that certain circumstances have transpired within the last hour,” Uncle said calmly, glancing at the tall stranger, who put out his cigarette and straightened up.
“What circumstances?” Grace asked, knowing she had never had a say in her own fate, except marrying Charles. Look how that turned out . “How can Charles walk out on me? What could this?—”
Uncle’s hand on her shoulder silenced her. “The circumstances are out of our hands but were agreed upon a long time ago.”
“Agreed upon by whom?” Grace asked louder, unable to hide her despair.
“Child,” he said coldly. “You are not marrying Charles today. Or ever. I am sorry. This was supposed to be a special day, but there are larger forces at play. And”—he cleared his throat as if with difficulty—“you are not getting married today. That’s just it.”
“But she is,” a low deep voice corrected him. His.
The bizarre statement made Grace whip around to face him.
The stranger’s eyes were on her again, that intense green gaze that made her knees buckle when he said, “She is marrying me .”