The Captain and the Wallflower

by Lyn Stone

  In addition to that, Mr. Harrell interrupted her day several times with concerns over providing two newly hired men with weapons and temporary lodging. Mrs. Bowden and Mr. Judd had almost come to blows over discipline of a footman and tweenie who had formed a liaison. And so it had gone, one thing after another.

  Late that evening, after everyone was settled, Grace sat down with a cup of tea in the library. It had become her favorite place of refuge. Here, she could escape the bustle of the household. Everyone usually assumed she was reading or going over accounts and left her alone. Yet this evening, Trent did intrude.

  “Caine asked me to come down and see how you are. He’s very upset about his aunt.”

  Grace set down her cup, rubbing her brow to banish the ache that had formed there. “Why so?” She motioned idly to a chair, a reluctant invitation for him to sit.

  Trent hesitated for a moment, then sat down. “You know, what she said to you. Sometimes she doesn’t think.”

  “Oh, the mistake in identity?” She dismissed that with a sigh. “I took no offense at that. The poor lady was weary and confused.”

  He sat back in his chair, apparently content to stay for a while. “No, about her other comment.”

  “That Belinda is the pretty one? Well, Trent, you can’t fault her for honesty. Belinda is pretty.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew her,” Trent said, suddenly alert and leaning forward.

  “A recent acquaintance. She came here to warn me not to marry her captain.” Grace tossed her head and pulled a face, aping Belinda’s haughty attitude. “He is so dangerous! Beware the captain!”

  “She warned you off?” Trent’s brow lined with concern as he sat forward. “Why didn’t you tell us she had been here? When was this?”

  “Before Caine was shot. I wrote to him about it and he answered immediately that she was only posturing. That it wasn’t significant and we should ignore it.”

  “I can’t believe she dared.”

  “You don’t think she’s the one who—”

  Trent raised his shoulders in a shrug. “She hasn’t the brains, but that brother of hers… I should speak to Caine about that.” He pushed out of the chair. “Excuse me.”

  Grace jumped up and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Please don’t put that in his mind, Trent! He might want to do something about it and he’s not well enough. Let it go for now, please.”

  He turned and took her hands in his. “You’re right, of course.” He searched her face for a long minute. “May I make an observation? You won’t misconstrue it?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” she said, looking down at his grip on her fingers and back to his serious expression. “What?”

  “Prettiness goes no deeper than the surface, but beauty shines out of the soul. You glow with it, Grace. I just wanted you to know that.”

  Speechless with shock, she just stood there as he released her hands, turned abruptly and left the library.

  Caine remained in his room that evening, as did Trent, Lord and Lady Hadley. Grace dined alone, as usual, and spent another restless night.

  Trent joined her for breakfast the next morning. “You look refreshed,” she commented, toying with her spoon instead of facing him directly. “Sleeping better now that our patient is improving?”

  “He’s sleeping through the night without laudanum. Grace, about what I said—”

  “So when will he emerge from his cave again, do you think?” She interrupted him because she had determined to forget his remark to her last evening and never speak of it again. Either he had made it out of pity, or worse, was developing some sort of tendre for her, which definitely wouldn’t do.

  He nodded and smiled. She hoped he understood the matter was finished.

  “Caine will see you this evening. He apologizes for appearing in such a state yesterday and says he will make himself presentable and come down for supper.”

  “It is about time!”

  “The man is vain past forgiving,” he said with a shake of his head. “Doesn’t want anyone to view him in any light but the best.”

  “No,” she argued. “Not vain precisely. He simply has a low opinion of the female gender and believes all of us are that much taken with how a man looks.”

  “And you disagree with that, of course.”

  Grace shrugged. “Some of us obviously are that way, given his past experience.”

  “Ah, but not Saint Grace of the beautiful soul! Do you forgive me for yesterday’s flirt? I can’t seem to help myself.”

  She laughed. He wouldn’t let her forget it. “You are an intolerable tease, Trent. How is Caine really doing this morning?”

  “Bearlike, if you must know, but I’ve seen him in worse temper. You’ll have your work cut out for you in future, jollying him out of those moods of his…” He let the sentence drift as he shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward.

  “Yes, dear old Belinda also warned me he was dangerous. So you’d both have me cry off and leave the poor man at the altar?”

  “Of course. Then I would have a clear shot at you myself.”

  “There you go again! Restrain yourself till you get back to Town, will you?” She got up and paced to the window, hiding her smile, determined to give as good as she got. “If you use up all your good lines on me, what shall you have to offer the London belles?”

  “Practice, love, practice! I’m only half serious at the best of times. Caine’s a lucky man, but I would never tamper with the best match ever made. You will be incredibly good for him, y’know.” Trent rose as he spoke. “I’m going for a short ride and dispense with some pent-up energy if you will excuse me.”

  She grinned. “Too right I will. Go and devil a horse.”

  The butler appeared in the doorway before Trent reached it.

  “A letter for you from Mr. Neville Morleigh, sir.” He handed it to Trent on a silver salver.

  Grace approached as Trent tore open the missive, both knowing it must concern the investigation.

  Trent read it quickly, then refolded it. “Come. We’ll brave the bear’s den together. Caine should hear this now. Trust me, he’s well enough.”

  “Knock first,” she said, huffing from exertion as they topped the stairs. “He might not be dressed.”

  Trent chuckled and shot her a sly grin. “Never tell me you spent half a night with the man and didn’t peek under the covers once. Have you no natural curiosity?”

  She felt her face heat with color. “Have you no natural shame?”

  “No, and that would make two of us,” he admitted as he rapped on the door. He raised his voice. “Make yourself decent, Captain! Female in the barracks!”

  She heard Caine curse.

  Trent opened the door without waiting for leave. Grace couldn’t resist entering right behind him.

  Caine stood before the washstand, straight razor suspended and his face half covered with lather. He was bare, save for the bandage on his shoulder and buckskin breeches with the front flap only half buttoned.

  She stared, again fascinated with the way his chest hair narrowed down his midsection to the indentation of his navel. He looked quite different standing up and nearly naked. Madly muscled and rather delicious, in fact. She couldn’t quite stifle a smile of pure appreciation.

  “Damn you, Trent!” Caine exclaimed, tossing the razor in the bowl and reaching for the drying cloth. He wiped his face and ran a hand through his hair. “Good morning, Grace.”

  She reluctantly lowered her gaze to the floor. “Good morning, Caine. You’re looking well.” She feared she had sort of sighed that last word.

  Trent snickered, then must hav
e remembered why they were there. He held out the letter. “Message from your esteemed cousin. Seems Wardfelton’s solicitor has vanished along with his account books. Neville’s man traced him to the docks and found he took passage yesterday for the Continent on one of the trade vessels. Sounds as if we’ve discovered the culprit, eh?”

  “Indeed. What about Wardfelton’s involvement?” Caine asked even as he scanned the letter. “Ah, I see Neville has put a watch on him.”

  Trent nodded. “The solicitor was probably working alone. Wardfelton would be gone, as well, if it was he who played false with Grace’s inheritance.”

  “I told you there might have been no inheritance,” she reminded Trent.

  “I think that’s highly unlikely, but we shall find out,” Caine said as he laid the letter on the washstand. “You realize Wardfelton could not simply disappear? He is an earl, after all, and I believe he would brave it out and challenge any accusation rather than abandon his title and everything that entails.”

  When he turned back to them, he looked Grace over as if he had never seen her before. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he turned away again. “If you two would give me a few moments to finish here and dress, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “In the morning room,” Grace said. “Trent and I just ate. The food’s still warm. No one else is up yet.”

  “Coffee will do,” Caine muttered.

  “I’ll do my utmost to entertain her until you interfere,” Trent said.

  They left and Trent closed the door behind them.

  “You are a horrible man,” Grace said in a gruff whisper. “Downright perverse to tease him that way.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. When they were on the stairs, he stopped and touched her arm. “Grace, he’s going to want to leave today, so be prepared for that. He might even want to delay the wedding.”

  “He said nothing about—”

  “He will. I know that look. I’ve known him for so long I can usually tell what he’s thinking.” He took her arm and continued their descent. “Did you see the way he looked at you just now, once the surprise of our intrusion was over?”

  Grace certainly did recall. “Yes, and did you think he seemed more disappointed than usual in the way I look?” Jane had put up her hair in what Grace believed was a flattering style. Her morning gown was new, a bright shade of blue just the color of her eyes. And with regular meals, she had lost the gauntness of face and body. “I thought I might appear a bit better than when he was here before, but perhaps not.”

  She hated to admit, even to herself, that the countess’s comment on Belinda’s prettiness and Trent’s touting her inner beauty had anything to do with her effort to improve her outer looks. She had made a real effort.

  Trent huffed a sigh. “Ah, Grace. Ill as he’s been, and not having really looked at you for over two weeks, Caine wouldn’t have noticed the difference until just now.”

  “It might be blue he dislikes!” She shook her head. “You know, how he hates yellow. Or perhaps it’s my hair.” These curls were not natural to her, a vanity perhaps not as flattering as she had thought. “I knew I should have worn a cap, lace or something to properly cover it.”

  Trent turned her to him and stared into her eyes. “It’s neither. You look beautiful. You bloom with health and confidence now. The problem is that you’re no longer the wretched little wraith left on the vine for him to pick and tuck away, Grace.”

  “Why should he mind that?”

  “Wait and see for yourself. I will lay odds he puts off your marriage, probably to give you a way out of it. When the matter is settled, I expect you’ll have money, enough to marry where you please. Caine will see to that, one way or another.”

  “What? You can’t possibly know if there ever was any inheritance and I will certainly never accept charity! Anyway, why would I want out of the marriage? I’m well content, even eager to have it done. What do you think of that, Lord Trent?” she demanded.

  “Eager, Grace?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm. “Well, what I think is that you will have to convince Caine you really mean it, my dear, and that will be no easy task.”

  *

  Caine finished shaving and dressed for riding. He intended to leave for London as soon as possible. His shoulder was healing well enough, though it still pained him. That pain was nothing to that which he expected to feel when he set Grace free of their engagement. He had to do it, because it was only right.

  He had worried about it almost constantly since those wonderful three days they spent together at the outset. Seeing her yesterday and especially this morning had convinced him that he was not right for her.

  Grace was so full of life, so appealing and now, exceptionally lovely, as well.

  She was not the woman he had thought her to be now that she was herself again. Fear of Wardfelton had almost ruined her health. The man had damaged her spirit, too, but that had healed very quickly, in the space of days. Now, weeks later, she was a beautiful young woman with everything to recommend her except a fortune. He would have to be shameless and with no honor at all to take advantage of a betrothal she’d agreed to only to save her own life.

  It might have been a marriage of convenience he had planned for them, but it had been a marriage of survival for her. She had been desperate. How could he hold her to such a promise?

  She would have a dowry, too, if he could recover it for her from that damned solicitor. If not, he would see her well fixed so she could make her own choice of husbands. He knew in his heart that her choice would not be a battle-worn cynic, who was more prone to argue than entice.

  He had done little to encourage her to like him, much less want to be shackled to him forever. He had promised her freedom and she should have the ability to freely choose.

  Grace had observed close-hand what she would be getting if she married him. She’d seen him at his very worst, bloodied and sweating, probably worse than that while he was out of his mind with fever. Damn, he hated thinking of it.

  He made his way down the stairs to the morning room, dreading what must be done. Grace and Trent sat nursing their coffee as he entered. She quickly hopped up and poured him a cup.

  Caine watched her, noting anew how lovely she was now, how the roses in her cheeks blushed the pearled sheen of her complexion and how even her lips seemed plumped to perfection. The striking blue of her eyes looked more intense with the color she was wearing. Her hair seemed even lighter than the last time, swept up into a crown of curls, interlaced with a blue ribbon.

  “How beautiful you are.” The words slipped out before he could catch them.

  She lay a hand on his good shoulder, set down his cup and offered a merry grin. “Pure artifice, I assure you. My maid is a wonder with a curling iron and face paint.”

  He cleared his throat and shot Trent a look of dismissal. It did not take. Trent merely raised an eyebrow and stayed right where he was. On second thought, perhaps it was just as well the conversation did not go private.

  “Now that the solicitor has left the country, there should be little danger of another attack. No point to it, really. So I believe I should go to London today and question Wardfelton about the matter. It’s time we got to the bottom of this.”

  Grace’s smile faltered. “The wedding is in three days. Why not wait until after?”

  Caine sipped his coffee before answering. “As to that, it would be best, I think, if we postponed the ceremony until we’ve cleared everything completely. Then we shall see.” Somehow, he couldn’t utter the words that could end things between them. Not yet.

 
Trent raised both brows then as he turned to Grace and pulled a comical frown. Caine could have boxed his ears.

  She took her chair, propped her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands and looked directly into Caine’s eyes. “No,” she said simply.

  “I am going to London,” he declared. “I have to go.”

  “Fine. Go,” she said. “But be back in two days.”

  Caine turned to Trent. “Please leave us.”

  Trent pushed back his chair, raised his hands in surrender and walked out. He shot Grace a smile over his shoulder, but she paid no attention. Her eyes were on Caine.

  When they were alone, Caine started to state his case, but she interrupted before he could. “No,” she repeated. “We will not delay, nor will we cancel the wedding, Caine. Everything is planned. Jilting me will be worse than anything my uncle ever did to me, you see.”

  She abandoned her recalcitrant pose and got up, going to the window to look out so that her back was to him. Caine suspected she was hiding tears. He’d had no intention of hurting her. He rose and followed, cupping her shoulders with his hands and turning her around to face him. “Grace, things have changed… .”

  “I know, but my mind has not.” She grasped his face with her hands, raised to her toes and pressed her lips to his. When he would have pulled back, she held him, increasing the intensity of the kiss.

  He couldn’t resist her moan of encouragement. Damn, she tasted so sweet, so determined, as her tongue touched his.

  He abandoned himself to the kiss, embracing her fully and holding her body as close as he could. How soft and giving, insistent, enticing. He wanted, needed… Until her hand accidentally brushed his wound and he jerked in pain. She jumped back, alarmed.

  They stared at each other in shocked silence. The kiss was more than either of them expected, he reasoned. Grace didn’t appear to have been quite that thoroughly kissed before and Caine wondered if he had, either.