Grace looked up at his face, hoping to see evidence of a smile.
Instead, his stony gaze met hers and she felt her heart sink as he set her back, his mouth compressed. “I have work to do wife.”
“Grace,” she stated, feeling the warmth starting to dissipate now she was no longer encircled in his arms. “My name is Grace. Shall I call you Nicholas or Blackmore?”
He moved toward the desk, his limp more pronounced than it had been before and Grace was worried that her sudden movements had hurt him somehow. “Nicholas is fine,” he grated out, settling in the chair with a wince.
Grace opened her mouth to ask after his health but something in his expression halted her. Her husband was very obviously a proud man and would likely not entertain her questions. “I see. Well I shall leave you to your work then Nicholas.”
He didn’t respond and she carefully made her way out of the study, pressing herself against the wall to slow her heartbeat.
She had her answer.
Chapter Seven
Nicholas etched a number in the column before placing the pen down with a muttered oath. His eyes glanced towards the small clock on the desk, noting it was nearing luncheon. The morning had been a waste of his time as he’d been unable to prevent his mind from continuously returning to his wife’s unexpected visit to his study.
Specifically, the way she’d felt in his arms.
What was she doing on her first official day as a duchess? Nicholas knew he was being an arse for not spending time with her. As a lowly clergyman’s daughter, she would have very little knowledge of the duties required of a duchess and would need some direction at the very least. But then what the hell did it matter? Nicholas had no intention of entertaining. He had very few friends within the ton and those he did have he’d long since lost touch with. There would be no social visits to Blackmore. His Duchess could sleep her days away underneath a hundred different trees. Nobody would be any the wiser.
Yet she was his wife and would be the mother of his heirs one day. She would need to comport herself in polite company at some point in the future. Perhaps he should consider employing a companion for her? Someone who could show her how to behave in polite society. And a lady’s maid. She would need someone to help her dress. And what about her clothes…?
Bloody hell.
Frustrated, Nicholas threw down his pen and eased himself from behind the desk, hissing as his shrapnel wounds pulled tight against his breeches. He walked slowly out of the study grunting with the effort of getting his traitorous body to loosen up and nearly bowling over Mrs. Tenner in the process. “Oh!” she squeaked, her hands tightening around the tray in her hands. “Your grace. I was just delivering your noon meal.”
“Where is my wife?” Nicholas asked in a near growl, his thoughts still consumed with the practical problems of having taken a spouse.
“Why, she’s taking her meal in the breakfast room,” Mrs. Tenner said slowly. “She felt the dining room was far too big to sit in alone.”
Nicholas grimaced slightly at the censure in her tone when she said alone. And he couldn’t blame Grace for wanting more intimate surroundings. The small family dining room was built to seat twenty and the formal dining room could hold nearly fifty. Nodding towards the tray, Nicholas’ voice remained clipped. “I will take my lunch together with my wife.”
His housekeeper’s eyes widened. “Of course, your grace, I’ll take this for you.”
Nicholas reached out and plucked the tray from her hands. “I can take it myself Mrs. Tenner.”
He knew he’d surprised her but didn’t wait for her response as he walked to the breakfast room, a cheery room his mother had spent a great deal of her time in when she was alive. Grace was seated at the small round table set in the recess of the huge picture window. She started as he walked in and promptly dropped her spoon into her soup as their eyes met. “Nicholas, I… err…” Her voice petered out as she tried in vain to fish her spoon out of the hot liquid without getting any on her fingers.
“Would you like some help?” he enquired politely placing his tray onto the table.
Grace glanced down at the mess she’d made of her napkin and her face flamed. Swiftly, Nicholas used his own spoon to lift out the offending cutlery. Once clear, he deftly wiped it on his own napkin and presented it back to her with a flourish. Hesitantly, she took the spoon and looked back down at her bowl in mortification. “Thank you,” she whispered wishing a hole would appear to swallow her up. Or failing that, he would simply leave quickly.
“May I join you for luncheon?”
Surprise made her lift her head quickly as he gestured toward the seat across from her.
Making an effort to gather herself together, Grace nodded her acquiescence. “Of course, though I wasn’t aware it was customary for a duke to bring his own lunch with him.”
His lips lifted in an unwilling smile as he took his place. “I’m afraid I intercepted my own meal.”
Finally, a smile, albeit a small one. Nevertheless, she felt her spirits lift at the sight and matched his smile with a tremulous one of her own.
Nicholas felt the blood in his veins heat at the sight. His wife was truly lovely when she smiled. “Well then I’m glad you did,” she offered shyly.
Determinedly pushing aside thoughts of his wife’s allure, Nicholas uncovered the plate and picked up the fork. “How are your rooms?”
“Lovely. They are much larger than I’m used to. As you know, I have seven sisters and a brother, so I’m used to small spaces.”
Although he was accustomed to being in close proximity with lots of bodies, he couldn’t imagine being crammed into the Reverend’s home with all those family members. “This house is now your home,” Nicholas said instead. “Feel free to make any changes as you see fit. Perhaps you’d like to start with the floor…”
Her eyes flew to his. Was he actually teasing her? She endeavoured to look serious. “As you’re no doubt aware Nicholas, I gave the floor a thorough inspection on the day of our marriage and I’m happy to report that I found it more than adequate.”
He quirked a grin and Grace felt her heart lurch. Dear God, he was handsome when he wasn’t looking so stern.
They sat in silence for a few moments, returning their attention to their luncheon.
“What about you Nicholas?” Grace asked reaching for her water glass as she finished eating. “Returning home must have been difficult.”
“It was my duty,” he replied, spearing the food before him. His clipped tone warned her against pursuing the subject. He had no wish to discuss with her or anyone the emotions that had assaulted him on his return.
Grace mentally kicked herself. Clearly the subject of his change in circumstance was a sore one.
“Do you ride?”
Nicholas nearly dropped his fork but recovered so quickly that she didn’t notice the sudden shake of his hand. He hadn’t ridden since the night they’d lost Peter. “No.”
“Me neither,” Grace sighed, pushing away her bowl. “I’ve never really had the opportunity or the inclination.”
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “Then what do you do?”
A dreamy smile crossed her lips. “I enjoy reading mostly. I abhor embroidery. I much prefer to be outdoors.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. In his experience genteel young ladies did not usually spend a vast amount of time looking at books, unless it was to indulge in the latest gossip at the circulating library.
“Novels?” he asked, genuinely interested.
Grace nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I am currently reading Robinson Crusoe.”
Nicholas was surprised. “I would have thought such a title is not commonly favoured by ladies of a gentle disposition?”
Grace studied his face, wondering if he was reprimanding her. There seemed to be no censure in his expression however, merely a polite interest. She took a deep breath and spoke the truth.
“I’m not really a gentle woman at all
though, as you must be aware.”
Nicholas frowned, wondering if this would be a good time to bring up the possibility of tutoring her in the responsibilities expected of a duchess. Instead he found himself saying, “We have a library here in Blackmore.” While it was unlikely the books in its shelves would provide her with any insight into her new role, they would certainly distract her and keep her from getting under his feet.
Keeping her happy had nothing to do with it…
Her eyes flew to his. “Truly?”
He nodded. “Would you like to see it?”
She looked down at his still full plate. “As soon as you finish your meal, your grace. I can wait.”
No longer hungry, and curious to know what her thoughts of Blackmore’s extensive library would be once she saw it, Nicholas pushed the plate away and stood. “Come.”
Grace scrambled to his side, and as they walked out of the room together, the tantalizing smell of jasmine tickled his nose. Surreptitiously he breathed the scent in, glancing down at Grace as she walked carefully by his side. Her eyes were firmly on the floor, no doubt in case she missed her footing.
Finally reaching the library, Nicholas pushed open the door and stood back, allowing Grace to step in first before following in close behind her. She turned in a slow circle, her expression awed. “What a beautiful room,” she whispered reverently. “I’ve never seen so many books.”
Nicholas cleared his throat, watching silently as she lovingly touched the leather spines of the books before her. What would it feel like to have her touch him like that?
When Grace finally turned back toward him, he was struck by the sheer delight in her expression, the softness of her eyes. There was no denying her pleasure made him feel as if he were human once more. “Thank you, Nicholas. This is a lovely surprise.”
“Consider it your wedding gift,” he said gruffly, suddenly needing to escape her fulsome praise. He didn’t deserve it. “I must return to my work.”
The light in her eyes dimmed but she nodded. “Of course. I shall see you later.”
It wasn’t a question, but he didn’t answer her, inclining his head before swiftly vacating the room.
Perhaps the library would keep her entertained for a while until he could figure out exactly what he needed to do with her.
Because right now, he wasn’t so certain he felt quite as detached has he had when she first arrived, and he couldn’t afford to have his heart involved. Their marriage was a business arrangement only.
And Nicholas was determined it would remain so. He didn’t dare do otherwise.
Chapter Eight
Grace stared at the ornate ceiling above her head, her heart heavy. Nicholas had not come yet again to her bed and she was starting to wonder if he ever would. After today’s events, she’d hoped he was warming to the fact they were married. That she was now his wife.
Yet as the shadows lengthened from day to night, she’d eaten a solitary dinner for the second time and made her way to bed.
Alone.
It seemed her new husband was still avoiding her.
As yet she had no lady’s maid, and in truth had no wish for one, but it would have been comforting to have someone to speak with as she readied herself for bed. She thought about her sisters and the noisy mayhem that usually accompanied them all as they retired. Her room was undeniably beautiful, but she was surrounded by oppressive silence.
Grace lay in her bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Was this how it was going to be for rest of her life? She felt a clutch of fear, then took herself to task. Throwing back the covers, she sat up. She wasn’t simply going to lay here and look at the ceiling. There was an entire library for her to explore downstairs.
After locating her wrap, Grace stole down the stairs as quietly as possible. Halfway down she abruptly froze as muffled sounds of screaming came from her husband’s study.
Another cry rent the air and Grace stumbled down the rest of the stairs, her heart in her throat. Had someone broken in? It sounded as though they were being attacked. She felt suddenly sick at the thought that Nicholas may still be in the study. Was he even now being murdered?
Without thinking she grabbed a candlestick from a small occasional table at the foot of the stairs and hurried down the dim hallway to the study.
Throwing open the door, Grace found the room empty save a thrashing man in the chair before the fire.
“No! Don’t you dare die on me John. Keep your eyes open. Look at me damn you, look at me.”
The anguish in his words tore through Grace as she made her way to his side, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nicholas was having a nightmare and by the torment on his face, she realised whatever it was he was dreaming had actually happened.
Was this why he hadn’t come to her bed?
“Lass, be careful.”
Grace turned to find Nicholas’ valet at the doorway, his red hair sticking out all over his head. She had met the Scot the day before and found him very congenial. “Do you know what’s happening?”
The sombre look on his face tugged at her heart. “Aye. He’s having a nightmare. They continue to plague him even after all this time.”
“What can I do to help him,” she whispered, kneeling beside the chair. It must be torturous to know he would endure such pain each night when he closed his eyes.
“There’s nae helping him,” the Scot replied, moving closer to the chair. “And he will not thank ye to see him so.”
“I can’t leave him like this,” Grace stated softly. Carefully, she lay her hand on her husband’s cheek, feeling the tightness under her palm. Nicholas flinched against her touch, but his eyes did not open, his fists clenched tightly against the chair. “There must be something I can do,” she continued almost on the verge of tears.
“Go on lass,” the Scot replied, his expression troubled. “I’ll get the lad tae his bed. Tis the blasted memories that will not leave him be. And the sights and sounds he’s endured are not for a gentle woman’s ears.”
Gently he pushed her towards the door. “He’s lucky to have a friend such as you,” she whispered.
The other man grinned. “Aye and he’s lucky tae have a woman like ye by his side. God willing, he’ll realise it before we’re all old and grey.”
Grace touched the man’s shoulder in thanks before she exited the room, the tears now flowing freely as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps her husband was not the cold man she’d believed him to be. The agonies he’d clearly experienced had wrought such terrible suffering inside him. Mayhap Nicholas had cultivated the remoteness in his demeanour as protection.
To keep people away. To keep her away.
Shivering Grace climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers to her neck. She had no knowledge of the horrors of battle and felt completely out of her depth. But she was determined to do something. One thing had become abundantly clear. Nicholas had shut himself away from the world and it was up to her to bring him back.
∞∞∞
The next morning, Grace opened her eyes to find her husband seated on the side of her bed, dressed for the day. Gasping in shock, she sat up quickly, hugging the bedclothes to her.
“Nicholas?” she asked hesitantly when he didn’t speak. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and lines of exhaustion on his face. He looked like she felt, worn out and weary from the previous night’s events.
“I understand I woke you last night.”
His voice was expressionless, giving nothing away. Grace frowned, pushing the hair out of her face. Had he sought her out to apologize? Surely he understood there was no need. “I was not asleep Nicholas.”
“Still you should have remained in your bed. It is not appropriate for you to see me so.” His voice was curt and Grace fought against her instinctive need to flinch.
Taking a deep breath, she touched his shoulder, careful to keep the touch light. Plucking up the courage she whispered, “Is that why you have yet to come to my bed?”
>
He didn’t meet her eyes, though she could see the tightening in his jaw. “I will not subject you to my nightmares.”
Grace climbed out of the bed then and came to stand before her damaged husband, heedless of the fact that she was wearing only her nightclothes. Boldly, she touched his cheek and forced him to meet her gaze.
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond, simply stared down at her, his face expressionless. Grace summoned the courage she’d just found to do what she must. “If you wish to allow me to help you, I will, but I will not push you to do so Nicholas. These nightmares do not make you weak, but they will destroy you if you allow them to do so.”
“You know nothing of the world,” he responded cuttingly. “You cannot help me. I don’t need a nursemaid. I need a wife. One who knows her place.”
The iciness in his tone caused Grace’s heart to thud sickeningly and she stepped back slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into her bed and bury herself under the covers. Instead she stood tall, and clenching her fists together, leaned forward to press her lips against his cheek. “Yes, I am your wife,” she started, surprised her voice remained steady. “And you are my husband. Your pain is my pain. I will be here, whenever you need me.”
Nicholas’s sharp intake of breath told Grace she’d caught him off guard and she straightened, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him. “Will you have breakfast with me?” she asked carefully, moving to the wardrobe that held her dresses.
The door closing behind her was her only response and Grace pressed her forehead to the cool wood, her shoulders slumping. He had sought her out, but only to tell her to mind her own business and stay out of his way.
Well if her husband thought she was that much of a damn ninny hammer, he was in for a grave shock.
Grace (The Shackleford Sisters Book 1) Page 5
