Confessions of Lady Grace

by Rachel Ann Smith

  The strong scent of lilac filled his nose as lush lips pressed against his. This was no dream. There was indeed a warm, inviting woman in his arms kissing him passionately. Matthew slowly opened his eyes. A wave of relief washed over him to find that he had not lost his mind and that Grace was real in his embrace. A countless number of times, he’d lain beaten and bruised on a dirt floor, dreaming of Grace kissing him, riding him, writhing beneath him, fantasies so vivid he’d believed she was actually there. But none of those images compared to what he was experiencing now. The gentle strokes of her tongue against his, her fingertips kneading the back of his neck, the purring moans were all real.

  Matthew pulled back. Candlelight peeked through the limbs of the potted plant that now only partially concealed the entrance to the alcove. Glassy-eyed, Grace looked back at him. She didn’t have to say the words. He could read them in her face. She was still in love with him, despite everything that had occurred.

  She whispered, “I’ve much to share with you.”

  “And I with you.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “I had the crown jewels inspected.”

  “Why?”

  She hadn’t even blinked twice at the revelation the jewels remained in his possession.

  Matthew answered, “Theo’s brother, Baldwin, had believed our beloved King George hid the PORF rondure among the treasure and had it buried. I suspect Burke discovered this information and…”

  Her already dilated eyes widened. “You believe Baldwin was killed. Orchestrated by Burke. You left in search of the coin.” She sagged against him and then straightened, pressing clenched fists against his chest. “I don’t understand your obsession with these legends. What good can come of finding out their secrets?”

  He searched his mind for the words to explain his irrational and all-consuming need to prove the existence of PORFs and their network.

  Grace cupped his face and searched his features. “You want to be a part of a legend.” Her hand dropped back to his chest. “Don’t you understand you are already a major asset to the Crown and its activities? You are already needed, wanted, respected…”

  “It’s not the same. The network is like a family, bonded by an oath passed down for generations.”

  Grace smiled, “I understand what it is like to want a family, the desire to belong and contribute to the greater good, but I also recognize what I have already been gifted with.” She kissed him and then said, “You must return the crown jewels to Archbroke. They are key to Tobias’s scheme.”

  “I can’t do that. They are vital to my plans.” Grace raised a finger and placed it over his lips.

  Ellingsworth’s hoarse whisper filled with anger filtered through the curtain from the other side, “She must be here somewhere. Find her.”

  Grace pushed away and said, “If you wish to marry me, you will return the treasure to Archbroke posthaste.” She whirled out of the alcove, out of his reach.

  Damnation. He wouldn’t be forced to choose between the woman he loved and revenge—he’d have both. He simply had to figure out how.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fingertips pressed to his temples; Matthew stared at his desk. It was a disaster, with correspondence from Lucy, maps, sketches, and notes in random piles. His life was a mess without Grace.

  Nine days had passed since his interlude with Grace at the Fairmont ball. Nine social events he had attended in secret—hiding in the shadows, watching Grace and Ellingsworth fawn over each other, waiting for a signal or a message from the woman he loved. But she had ignored his pleas to meet. Each day he received a missive passed along by Theo that contained the same message. Return the crown jewels and make me the happiest woman in all London.

  How could she place her trust in Ellingsworth’s scheme over Matthew’s? Night after night, he wrestled with her decision to continue with the sham engagement and demand he relinquish the jewels. The deep cut of betrayal played havoc with his mind. If Grace hadn’t daily sent coded messages stating she still loved him, he would have given up all hope of a happy ending for them both.

  His meeting with Captain Bane had been the only successful event since the damn ball. Thankfully, Waterford had the right of things. Captain Bane had delayed his departure date ten days after hearing Mary’s dire warnings of disaster if he was to set sail. Ellingsworth had obtained a common license and announced the official date of the wedding in the papers. It was no coincidence the date corresponded with the Quarter Moon’s departure.

  Matthew had run out of time—the ship was to set sail tomorrow, and the wedding was set for midday. Burke remained hale and hearty, so either Ellingsworth’s scheme had failed, or the man never intended to see the devil dead. Matthew’s only option was to enact his plan early.

  A dark silhouette fell across his desk. Matthew glanced up to find Blake running his hand through his disheveled hair.

  “I received a letter from your wife today.” Matthew waved the missive in the air. “I can’t believe Lucy would suggest we leave it to the others to deal with Burke.”

  “Your sister is a wise woman, and you should seriously consider Lucy’s advice.” Blake sighed, sinking into the chair opposite Matthew.

  Blake’s forehead was etched with new worry lines. Each day his friend spent away from Lucy and the twins another line appeared. Two more days, then Blake would leave for Shalford Castle. Matthew would miss his friend’s companionship and support. Blake’s subtle but frank advice was invaluable to his slow but steady mental recovery. The dizzy spells, the black moments, and the tremors hadn’t ceased, but after a week spent in Blake’s company, Matthew had come to understand these physical afflictions would ease with time. If he was to fully recover, he needed to cease ignoring his demons. He needed to be the man he once was, both inside and out—strong and confident. Most of all, he wanted to be the man Grace had fallen in love with, not this damaged version who struggled to remain still while his valet tied his cravat.

  Matthew shuffled the mounds of papers about until he had a clear view of Blake. “Burke’s activities went on unprohibited for years. Why should I place my faith in them to deal with the man now?”

  “I suspect the rondure is currently in either Hadfield or Archbroke’s possession. My guess is Hadfield’s, but I can’t be certain. The strong alliance and family bonds they share through Theo will ensure they are in agreement with whatever action will be taken.”

  Matthew’s hands returned to the sides of his head. “Regardless, if family ties exist or not, the bearer of the coin holds ultimate power. If it is Archbroke, his actions will be swift. If perchance it is Hadfield, I’m uncertain he will take action. I can’t risk this opportunity. Burke must pay.”

  “Everything has been arranged as you requested for this evening.” Blake placed his left hand on his right shoulder and rolled it back and forth. “I shall accompany you.”

  “What is wrong with your arm? Are you hurt?”

  Blake’s broad smile at his sequential questions, made Matthew shift in his seat. While some of his irritating habits from the past might have returned, it was by no means indicative that he had resumed his prior preference for diplomacy over retaliation.

  “I’m perfectly well, merely eager to return to Shalford Castle and slumber in my own bed which accommodates a man of my size.” Blake rose and headed for the sideboard. A drink was exactly what they both needed.

  Matthew clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “If my conversations go to plan this eve, then you should be home within a few days. I’m assuming you will stay for the wedding tomorrow and act as a witness.” Letting his eyes close, he pictured Grace in a simple but elegant gown of forest green silk with little embroidered pink roses, walking down the aisle of the chapel with a broad, eager smile.

  At the sound of glass hitting wood, Matthew sat up as he searched for his tumbler. Damn Blake and his tiny splashes of the amber liquid. He swirled the brandy around and around. Matthew paused and stared at his glass. Wh
en had he ceased the habit of consuming the liquor as soon as it was within his reach?

  Blake was standing with an empty glass in hand. Something was setting his best friend on edge—but what?

  With his back to Matthew, Blake said, “Do I need to remind you of the conditions Grace set for the happy occasion?” Blake turned. Holding up the decanter and waving it about as he added, “And you are mad if you believe for one moment I’d let you go alone tonight.”

  Earlier in the week, Matthew had met with his lawyers and arranged for a large settlement from his estate be settled upon Grace should anything dire occur. The sum was large enough to ensure Grace had the freedom to choose to wed or not.

  Matthew said, “Promise me, if anything should go awry, you will follow through with the rest of my plan.”

  Blake returned with a full glass of brandy and placed it upon a stack of papers. He leaned forward and placed both palms flat on the desk. Eye to eye with Matthew, Blake said, “I’ll make no such guarantee. Lucy would have my head. I’m going with you, and there is nothing you can do or say to stop me.”

  Unblinking, Matthew replied, “The instructions were for Burke to arrive alone, and I will do likewise.”

  “I don’t trust him to follow through with his word.” Picking up his drink, Blake settled back into his chair. “I have a terrible feeling about tonight’s events, and Lucy is rarely ever wrong. We should heed my wife’s advice.”

  No one was going to deny him his revenge. Matthew stood and emptied his glass. He made his way over to the window and pulled back the curtain to peer up at the moon, full and bright. The time for Matthew to act was now. He was fully aware of the dangers. The increased chatter and interest in PORFs and the missing crown jewels had provoked Burke into offering twice his original amount for information. The devil was desperate to get his hands on the treasure.

  “I won’t say it again. I’m going alone. You are going to attend whatever social engagement Grace will be at this eve.”

  “There’s no need for me to attend any such frivolous activity when you might be in danger. Ellingsworth has proved this past week he is more than capable of protecting and caring for Grace.” Blake took another healthy gulp of his drink.

  Matthew took a deep, calming breath as a stab of jealousy hit him squarely in the chest. Images of Ellingsworth and Grace flashed in quick succession. He had shadowed the couple as they strolled through the paths of Vauxhall, rode on matching grays in the park, attended the theater, and had even dressed in disguise as a footman to keep watch over Grace as she and Ellingsworth attended various dinner parties as the guests of honor. Matthew’s blood boiled, thinking of how Ellingsworth made Grace smile and laugh. There had been absolutely no gossip or suspicion that their engagement was feigned. The pair had excelled at convincing the ton and, more importantly, Burke that they were both eager to say their vows in front of a priest at Saint George’s chapel.

  Matthew recalled the night they had attended the theater. In the dark, during the second act, he had caught a glimpse of Grace with her head bent as Ellingsworth whispered in her ear. For a brief moment, Matthew saw Grace’s facade crack—she had shared a genuine smile with the man. It was enough to plant a seed of doubt in Matthew’s mind and to question if Grace was starting to care for her faux betrothed.

  Captain Bane confirmed that Ellingsworth had purchased two tickets to the Americas, not one. Who was the extra ticket intended for? Every good agent always had a secondary plan, if not a third. Was whisking Grace away Ellingsworth’s scheme if his initial plans went awry?

  Blake’s glass hit the table. “I’ll assume your silence to mean there is no changing your mind.” Dispirited his brother-in-law released a deep sigh. “I’m off to change for the evening. I suggest you do the same.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Where was her blasted fake fiancé? Grace curved her lips into another bright smile for the guests of the Redburn ball as they glided past. Tobias was late as usual. Punctuality was not a quality that most expected from a dunderhead, so her betrothed exploited the trait to its full advantage. It also meant Grace was the one who bore the brunt of maintaining their pretense.

  The tension in her shoulders triggered her headaches, which were getting worse by the day. Pain radiated up her neck, piercing her brain, exacerbated by every blasted nod she gave to all the bloody well-wishers who dared to approach her.

  Seated next to Aunt Emily, who appeared content to sit along the wall, Grace snapped her fan open and hid her face behind the decorative object in her hand. For a solid minute, Grace allowed herself to relax her aching facial muscles. A short reprieve from smiling, but it also allowed her disappointment to set in. She had thought Matthew would have no qualms in choosing marriage to her over vengeance. Nine days later, she was no longer confident about the matter and questioned the man’s love and touted devotion to her. He hadn’t abandoned her like before—she was fully aware that he lurked in the dark everywhere she went. No, he still cared, but he had failed to relinquish the bloody crown jewels.

  She peered over the rim of her fan and let out a small gasp. Devonton. The man was dressed in his elegant but conservative evening attire and stood in plain sight. He might be her subordinate, but Blake’s loyalty belonged to Matthew. The delicate wood frame snapped in half in her hand. Matthew’s best friend, a full head taller than the rest of the guests, easily spotted her. As he made his way over to her, Grace fumbled with her fan and managed to stuff the blasted thing in her petite silk reticle. She synched the drawstring tight as a pair of large black polished dress shoes appeared.

  “Wouldn’t want to be the poor fellow whom your mind is conjuring right at this moment.” Blake presented his hand to her. “Care to join me on the dance floor?”

  With her head tilted, Grace leaned back in order to see the man’s face. “Your manners are atrocious, but considering your wife is not here, I’ll excuse your failure to adhere to social etiquette.” Grace placed her gloved hand in his and rose. “Where is Matthew?”

  Blake’s entire body tensed. His lips were drawn into a tight straight line, and the man lowered his gaze to the floor. It was clear he was not in full support of whatever Matthew was up to tonight.

  Grace said, “Take me to him.”

  “No.” Blake turned to lead her about the perimeter of the room, edging closer to the dance floor.

  “Devonton, it wasn’t a request. It was an order.” Grace hated to have to exert her authority as the man’s superior. Blake was a loyal, honest man who had served his country throughout the entire battle with Napoleon. He deserved to live out the rest of his life in peace and happiness. Grace nearly tripped as Blake quickly altered their course. Instead of leaving through the main foyer, Blake dragged her through to the gardens and then opened a door concealed behind sprawling ivy.

  She glanced about, trying to gain her bearings. Blake released a piercing whistle. Moments later, a hackney rambled toward them and rolled to a stop. Grace hopped into the vehicle as soon as Blake had the door open. She couldn’t be seen out here with him.

  Grace faced him and asked, “Where are we going?”

  The back of the hackney dipped, and Blake moved in front of her as the door swung open. Matthew lunged forward and barreled into his best friend. Righting himself, Matthew glared at Blake and asked, “Where the hell are the two of you going?”

  Blake tilted his head in Grace’s direction.

  Matthew’s blue-gray eyes were filled with anger. “Why did you leave the ball?”

  “I gave the command.” Volleying between wanting to launch herself at the man she loved and desired and strangling him for not seeking her out sooner, Grace stared at Matthew until he shifted uncomfortably. She glanced at both men and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are we headed?”

  Matthew scowled at her. “I’m going to instruct the driver to return to the ball as soon as you answer my question.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Damnation, Grace.�
� Matthew mirrored her movements. He crossed his arms and continued, “You are supposed to be dancing and awaiting your betrothed at the ball, not traipsing about town in a hackney with Devonton.” He slid a glance at Blake, who sank farther into the corner of the rattling hackney.

  Leaning forward, Grace softly said, “Who awaits you and where?”

  Matthew brought his face within inches of hers and stared. Blast the man. Her eyes locked on his lips as she silently prayed for their conveyance to jostle about and cause their mouths to accidentally meet.

  Blinking, Grace refocused on the matter at hand. “I’ll not return to the ball until you share with me what has put Devonton on edge this eve.”

  “You’re not coming with me. Thus it’s of no matter who, what, or where I’m off to.” Matthew reached for the door latch, presumably to order the driver to return to Redburn’s. Her heart crumbled as she leaned back against the hardwood bench. What a fool she had been to believe he truly loved her and still intended to marry her. His decision was clear. He valued revenge over love. The Matthew she loved would have recognized the flaw in allowing hatred to rule one’s choices. She could feel his gaze on her, but she clasped her hands in her lap and looked steadfastly at the tips of Devonton’s shoes. How awkward for the poor man to be stuck in the same vehicle.

  Exhaling a long sigh, Matthew moved to the space next to her and placed a hand over hers. “I plan to meet with Burke. I’ve arranged for senior court members to remain hidden in the dark. I intend to lead Burke down a merry path until he confesses to his underhanded dealings.”

  Matthew had lost his marbles. Burke was a silver-tongued devil, and there was no way he’d confess to his nefarious dealings. The hackney was slowing; they must have arrived at their destination.