Confessions of Lady Grace

by Rachel Ann Smith

  Hereford matched him stride for stride. “Regardless, if we are five minutes or two hours late, Lady Grace detests tardiness.” They exited Carlton House and jumped into the awaiting coach.

  “Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Matthew asked.

  Hereford shrugged his brawny shoulders. “Hmm. Maybe. Fortunately, you will have a lifetime to make it up to her.” The man smiled and revealed a chipped tooth. The damaged pearly white tooth was a reminder Hereford had not escaped totally unscathed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  What was keeping Matthew? Where were Lucy and Theo? Good gracious, Grace wasn’t even married to the man, and she was already adopting his habits. Sequential questions indeed. Inhaling deeply, she turned and continued to pace along the four walls of the ante-chamber.

  Completing her eighty-third circuit of the small room, she was aware the volume of the voices from the other side of the wall was mounting. The chapel was full of guests all expecting her to wed the new Lord Burke. Bloody hell. What would everyone think when it was Matthew up on the dais standing next to her instead of Tobias? Had Matthew even procured a special license? Fustian.

  Sidestepping around Mary and Waterford for the eighty-sixth time, Grace narrowed her gaze upon the pair. The smirk on Waterford’s face that she had once considered smug was teasing more than anything else. Mary’s furrowed brow wasn’t so much from scowling but a look of concentration. The woman’s gaze tracked Grace as she paced by. Mary’s eyes were slightly dilated and gleamed with awareness. What did the woman know that she wasn’t sharing? Grace turned around and briskly walked back to confront the couple.

  Hands firmly planted on her hips; Grace stared at Mary. “Out with it. Did Theo’s plan fail?”

  “Lass, what color would describe Lady Grace’s exquisite grown?” Waterford pulled his wife a little closer to him.

  The protective gesture was unnecessary, and a pang of regret at her aggressive behavior hit Grace squarely in the chest. Yes, she was a little agitated, but she would never harm a friend.

  “Emerald green.” Mary smiled and then continued, “It’s nearly the same shade as Theo’s eyes, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Waterford tilted his head and nodded. “Quite right.”

  Wide-eyed, Grace stared at the pair. They had totally ignored her question and were being deliberately obtuse. Grace grabbed Mary’s hands. “Did the Prince Regent rule against Matthew? Oh, dear Lord…”

  Mary squeezed her hands. “Waterford has not yet received an update.”

  “I’m not talking about Waterford. I’m asking if you have received word from your sources.” Grace searched her friend’s face for a clue, any sign that would set her heart at ease that Matthew was well and was merely delayed.

  “How long have you known about my…?” Mary asked, lowering her gaze.

  “Oh, I’ve known for years. When we first met, you believed it a curse, but I’ve always considered it a gift.” It was Grace’s turn to squeeze Mary’s hands. “Please tell me what you know.”

  Mary bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  It must be bad news if Mary wouldn’t share it with her. “Very well. I’ll go see to the matter myself.” She shouldn’t have entrusted Theo with the responsibility in the first place. Grace gathered up her skirts to march to the door.

  The door burst open, and an out-of-breath Lucy rushed into the room. “Everyone is finally in place. We may proceed.”

  Grace’s hand flew to Lucy’s arms to prevent herself from barreling into her best friend. “Matthew’s arrived? Where is he?”

  Lucy turned to press her back against the door, forcing Grace to release her. Grace’s papa stood tall and proud at the threshold. “Gracie girl, you look marvelous. Shall we go?” He was the one who appeared marvelous. He preferred not to have anyone around him with sharp objects should he lapse into confusion and become combative. Yet her papa’s hair and beard were trimmed. Grace never doubted her parent’s love for her, but it was these minor acts that touched her heart the most.

  “What are you doing here?” Out of pure habit, Grace threaded her hand through the crook of her papa’s arm. “You were to wait with Mama up front.”

  “I changed my mind. I shall walk with you to the alter.”

  Lucy shoved a bouquet of flowers in Grace’s hand. “A gift from the Duchess of Fairmont.” Grace looked down at the floral arrangement—lilacs, her favorite, were surrounded by white peonies and lavender, all bound together with blue-colored ribbon. Tears welled in her eyes.

  Rounding the corner, Theo stood next to the closed doors that barred any more guests from entering the chapel. Her papa paused.

  Grace peered up and asked, “What are we waiting for?”

  “Your friends want to also walk with you in solidarity.”

  Lucy and Mary sneaked past them, and the trio formed a line. Lucy, her best friend, in front followed by Theo and then Mary. It was all too much. A tear trickled down her cheek. Her friends were her sisters. Lucy opened the double doors with a whoosh. Heads turned, and a hush came over the crowd.

  Grace’s gaze immediately sought out Matthew. Unlike Devonton, Archbroke, and Waterford, who were all looking adoringly down the aisle at their wives, Matthew had his back to her. He was in deep discussions with the priest.

  As her friends moved to stand next to their husbands, her papa led her all the way up to the altar and said, “Harrington, is there a problem?”

  Matthew jumped and spun around. “No issue. No issue at all. I was explaining to Reverend Cottingham that I shall be standing in as groom today.”

  Grace wanted to stomp her foot. Matthew had yet to acknowledge her presence.

  The priest interrupted, “And I was informing Lord Harrington that the banns were read for another gentleman. We simply cannot proceed.”

  Good gracious, had no one thought to obtain a special license? This was why women should be in charge.

  Archbroke coughed and said, “Harrington, I believe these will mitigate the reverend’s concerns.”

  “Why didn’t you give this to me earlier?” Matthew snatched the rolled-up parchment from Archbroke’s hand and shoved it at the priest.

  Reverend Cottingham pulled at the end of the red ribbon and the paper unfurled. The priest’s bushy white eyebrows rose. “A decree issued by the Prince Regent.”

  Grace stepped in front of her papa to better see the order for herself.

  Matthew’s eyes widened as his gaze finally fell upon her. “You look marvelous.”

  From behind her, Grace’s papa chuckled and said, “Harrington, you will have to be more original than that, she’s already received such a compliment from me.”

  Ignoring the byplay between the men, Grace leaned forward and asked, “May I see the decree?”

  Bushy gray eyebrows scowled down at her. “Certainly not.” Reverend Cottingham rolled the parchment and held it to his chest.

  The Prince Regent was hardly in the habit of issuing such benign orders. Grace asked, “What exactly does the decree state?”

  Matthew’s body tensed. “Do you no longer wish to marry me?”

  “Of course, I want to marry you. I merely think it prudent we both know exactly what the Prince Regent has required of us.”

  Matthew swiveled to look back behind him. Grace followed and noted the guilty looks upon both Archbroke and Theo’s faces.

  Grace faced Matthew. “Do you know why a royal decree was issued?” His eyes darted away from hers. He did. The murmurs of the crowd grew. Should she trust Matthew or demand to view the parchment tightly held in the priest’s hands?

  Reverend Cottingham whispered, “Do you withhold your consent?”

  Grace shook her head.

  “Then I suggest we start the proceedings.” The priest waited and then added, “It is a great honor that the Prince Regent has bestowed upon your husband-to-be and yourself.”

  While Grace stared at the priest, who was talking in riddles, Matthew smiled and puffed out hi
s chest as if he had been granted a medal of honor.

  Grace made the request. “May I have a word with Lord Harrington before we begin?”

  Ignoring her request, Reverend Cottingham opened his prayer book and began the ceremony. None of the men in her life treated her with such little regard. She had taken their liberal ways for granted.

  Grace shifted sideways to view her friends. Theo was flanked by Lucy and Mary. Devonton was behind his wife. He towered over Lucy, not in a domineering way but in a loving, protective manner. Waterford stood at attention next to Mary, his eyes sliding over to his wife with admiration and a whisper of longing. Then there was Archbroke, who was slightly in front of Theo but not directly, ensuring that he’d not block his wife’s view of the proceedings. It was not so long ago that Archbroke was of a similar mind as the priest, treating women as if they were placed on this earth merely to provide heirs. But it hadn’t taken long for him to change his views as soon as he’d met Theo.

  Grace inhaled sharply.

  Theo.

  Mary had stated Theo was the one responsible for seeing things were sorted with Prinny.

  Leaning in closer to Matthew, Grace whispered, “Did Theo somehow manage to absolve you of your promise to Tobias not to pursue the matter of PORFs further?”

  “She did.”

  “How?”

  Matthew turned his attention back to the proceedings and the priest’s prompt to repeat after him. Matthew’s unquivering voice rang clear as he vowed to love and to cherish her for the rest of their days. He reached for Grace’s hand and placed a ring upon her finger.

  It was her turn to promise to honor and obey Matthew. She wasn’t concerned about respecting her husband’s wishes, and she would have uttered her vows with the same clarity as Matthew if they had shared the content of the decree.

  Matthew’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he waited for her to finish repeating the words the priest prompted her to say. She didn’t want him to worry about her intentions. But if her suspicion that she was, in fact, vowing to marry Matthew and pledging her allegiance and service to the PORFs was correct, shouldn’t she be given a moment to consider?

  She continued to mechanically parrot words of love and devotion after Reverend Cottingham. Out of the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw a man who looked identical to Burke. But the man was dead, declared so by the royal surgeon. Her eyes must be playing tricks as thoughts of PORFs whirled about in her head. She blinked and narrowed her gaze to the spot where she thought she’d seen a ghost.

  Matthew presented his hand to her, and Grace reached for the ring that lay upon Reverend Cottingham’s bible.

  “What is the matter?” Matthew asked as she slid the ring onto his finger.

  “Did you make promises on my behalf without consulting me?”

  Matthew gripped her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

  The man was infuriating. When would he learn not to act so impulsively?

  “If we don’t sign the registry, you could seek an annulment.”

  How could he even suggest an annulment? “You think that is what I want?”

  “I hope it’s not. But you are clearly disappointed in my decision, and if you prefer not to be bound to serve… well, you know who, then I’ll understand.” The sadness in his eyes nearly had Grace forgoing the opportunity to prove that in a marriage, one mustn’t assume, but it requires healthy communication.

  The priest snapped closed the book in his hands and declared to all, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Following the priest over to the registry, Grace spoke softly for Matthew’s ears only. “There was a time when we discussed every matter ad nauseam until we either both agreed, or we decided that there was no reasonable compromise.”

  For a brief moment, Matthew’s pale face flushed pink. “Oh, I remember many a long night debating issues with you.”

  “There have only been two occasions I’m aware of in which you decided to universally make a choice without discussing the matter with me, and in both cases, the consequences were rather life changing.”

  Quill poised above the registry, Matthew said, “You want me to promise not to make unilateral decisions that have an impact on both our lives?”

  Praise the saints, he finally understood.

  “Yes, that is what I wish for.”

  Matthew dropped the quill to the table, and her heart sank. He wasn’t going to sign the registry. She wanted to crumple to the ground, but his strong arms wrapped about her waist, and he rubbed his nose against hers. He waited until she met his gaze and then said, “Marchioness Harrington, I pledge to thee to rectify my impulsive ways and promise to seek out your counsel, for you are the smartest woman I know.”

  Rolling onto the balls of her feet, Grace placed her lips upon her husband’s and kissed him soundly in front of Reverend Cottingham and all the guests. The priest cleared his throat multiple times before Matthew released her, and then they both promptly scrawled their names and signed the registry.

  The ink wasn’t even dry upon the parchment when Archbroke and Hadfield whisked them away to an awaiting carriage.

  Matthew eyed the pair who occupied the rear-facing seat.

  Hadfield said, “Congratulations to you both.”

  Grace remained silent and shifted her weight slightly closer to Matthew. The intensity of the two men’s stares was alarming.

  “Our thanks. Where are the two of you escorting us now?” Matthew asked.

  “We all shall adjourn to Flarinton’s townhouse for a small celebration. Family and close friends only.” Archbroke’s normally serious features softened and he added, “It will allow Grace to say farewell to her parents before she leaves for her new residence.”

  As Archbroke finished his speech, Matthew braced himself. Grace never took kindly to men presuming her needs.

  “How kind of you both to have arranged everything.” The sarcasm in her tone was not lost on any of them.

  Both men stiffened. Hadfield’s smile faded away. “Lady Grace, as you have probably already deduced, you are now honor-bound to serve the Protectors of the Royal Family.”

  Grace narrowed her gaze at the unassuming man opposite her. “For my edification, please confirm for me who those individuals are.” She could feel Matthew’s eyes on her. If none of them had believed it necessary to talk the matter over with her prior, they were bloody well going to discuss it now.

  “There are three titled families—Burke, Archbroke, and Hadfield. You are to assist and protect the current titleholders and their immediate family.” Hadfield leaned forward. “I request you personally give me your word that you agree to honor the code of silence and pledge to serve the families as needed.”

  She wasn’t ready to make this easy for any of the men in the coach. “I’ve already promised to obey my husband in front of everyone. Is that not enough?”

  Hadfield’s voice deepened. “Lady Grace, it is out of respect that I make this request of you.”

  “Respect, you say.” Grace glanced at Archbroke then back to Hadfield. “Very well. You have my word.” Apparently satisfied, Hadfield sat back and lounged as if he had not a care.

  In dark contrast, Archbroke’s brow furrowed. Excellent, at least her counterpart acknowledged her displeasure at no longer being considered his equal.

  The carriage came to a stop.

  Hadfield reached for the door handle but pinned Grace with his eyes. “It is an honor to have you join the network.”

  Grace gathered her skirts and crouched to exit. “I’ve been told the honor is mine to have been invited.” She didn’t wait for a response and hopped down onto the path. Matthew alighted from the coach and escorted her up the steps.

  From behind them, Hadfield chuckled and said, “Harrington is fortunate she saved his hide.”

  Her husband leaned in close and said, “I agree. I am an extremely fortunate man, and I promise not to forget it.”

  Grace replied, “Make sure y
ou don’t.”

  The teasing crinkles about the corner of Matthew’s mouth appeared as he gave her a slightly lopsided smile. Her pulse sped up. She had not seen that smile in nearly two years. His lips grazed over hers, and the familiar feeling that nothing could separate them seeped into her bones. She pulled back and took in the sight of her husband. They were finally married, and she, for one, was ready to begin the next phase of her life as Marchioness Harrington.

  Becoming members of the network would be a tremendous change. The PORFs and the network were complex entities. Perhaps she should welcome such a change. Grace halted just before they crossed the threshold. A flash of bright light and an image of Burke snickering at the wedding appeared as she blinked. Silverman swung the front door open for them. Matthew moved forward, and she smiled as they walked by the family butler.

  The sound of guests filled the hall. If Burke truly wasn’t dead, the devil would hunt both Matthew and her down. Trusting her intuition, she squeezed Matthew’s hand and then placed it upon the stair rail. “I need to speak to Tilman. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  She raced up the stairs and left her husband behind. She needed to devise a plan to lure Burke out into the open without endangering her friends and family who were now congregating to celebrate her marriage.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  His wife was no coward. Grace was lively, engaging, and could manage even the most difficult conversationalists at a social function. But Matthew was fully aware it took an enormous toll on her. Grace needed quiet time to reenergize, and after the day’s events, she deserved a few minutes of peace.

  As his wife disappeared up the stairs, Matthew squared his shoulders and exhaled. He headed down the hall, ready to greet friends and family he had avoided since his return from the Continent. In the past, the buzz of excitement of those near him fueled Matthew, and he’d seek out the company of the most boisterous groups or forms of entertainment. But crowds no longer held their appeal, and rather than replenishing his energy they now caused vast amounts of anxiety. He was glad the group he was about to encounter would be limited and composed of those who truly cared for Grace and himself.