by Wendy Vella
“Are you all right, Grace?” Harry arrived breathlessly at her side, looking ruffled, his dear face lined with worry.
“Hello, Harry,” Grace said as he took her hand. “Will you not give me a smile on my wedding day?”
“I would if I believed you were happy.” He shot the earl a glare before looking at Grace once more.
“This is of my making, Harry, not the earl’s, and furthermore you should be pleased that I am off your hands.”
“I am not,” he snapped. “He is not the right man for you, and I will not allow him to get in the way of what we must still do.”
Lord Edwin Harrington had been twenty-seven when Grace’s parents died, and he, as her only living relative, had climbed into his carriage and driven to her house, where he’d found her lost and alone. Grace remembered him kneeling before her saying that it was all right now, as he was to be her family. After demanding her things be packed, Harry then bundled her and a maid into his carriage and took her to live with him.
“I miss you and you haven’t been gone a day yet,” Harry added, removing his hat to run a hand through his auburn curls.
He was tall and thin, with soft blue eyes and gentle features, and Grace had never loved anyone more.
Sniffing loudly, which drew a few frowns from the elegant guests, Grace wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold her again, and tell her it would be all right. But it wouldn’t, not this time, in fact not ever again.
“I-I will be all right, Harry, and I’m sure the earl will care nothing about my movements, therefore I can spend my days with you,” Grace said.
“If he does not, then I will arrive at your door each morning,” Harry said, patting her shoulder.
“That is a hideous dress, Grace; I cannot believe you actually paid money for it.”
“Hello, Ruth,” Grace said as her friend arrived. “And thank you for your kind words,” she added.
“I speak only the truth, as you know,” Miss Ruth Munn said.
Short with a soft round figure and blonde curls, under which was a round rosy-cheeked face and a pair of bright eyes, Ruth Munn had been Grace’s friend since Harry had relocated them to London nearly three years ago.
“Perhaps today you could adjust your forthright manner, Ruth, as Grace and I are upset, which is understandable considering the circumstances.”
Both Grace and Ruth looked at Harry as he spoke. His eyes were sad and his shoulders stooped, and Grace felt the burden of what she had done increase. This man needed her and she was about to desert him.
“Oh, pooh to that, Harry. Both you and Grace will adjust to this change in time, and being maudlin will only hinder that process,” Ruth said, offering Harry a gentle smile that he ignored.
“And what of Nipper, how will I tell him that given time he will adjust?” Harry snapped, glaring at Ruth, which surprised Grace as Harry rarely snapped, scowled or used excesses of emotion, and most especially not at Ruth. “Nipper was deeply upset by Grace’s leaving.”
“I am not dying, Harry,” Grace felt she should at least try to lighten the somber mood. “I will be able to visit him and I have not yet asked the earl, but perhaps he will consent to Nipper living with me.”
“I doubt that,” he said, looking glum. “That man has a reputation for ruthlessness. He is also a man who rules his household with a strong hand, and he would never allow a dog to scamper about his home.”
Grace swallowed back her fear at Harry’s words. Was she to live out her days in a sterile house with no love or laughter, no animals or people to make her smile?
“Your husband signals you now, Grace,” Ruth said gently, taking her hand from Harry’s and giving it a pat before releasing it. “Go now, and Harry and I shall follow.”
Grace gave her cousin a hug, which he returned, refusing to let her go until she told him to, and then after kissing Ruth’s cheek she went to where her husband now stood beside a carriage.
“How is your cousin?”
Grace looked up at the earl to see if she’d heard him correctly. He was looking at her with a polite mask of expectancy on his face.
“Unhappy,” she said. “Because contrary to what you believe, my Lord, my cousin and I had no wish for this union, therefore I can honestly say he is deeply upset.” Grace always thought honesty to be the best policy, even when it possibly would have been better if she’d lied.
His brows drew together as he studied her. She thought perhaps he would use the same look when inspecting a rodent or some other pesky creature he had no wish to converse with.
“I find that hard to believe, but if you insist on continuing with this story, I shall say nothing further.”
Minutes later, she was sitting across from him in silence as the carriage rolled slowly toward her new home. Grace could only remember one other time in her life when she had been so unhappy, and that had been the day when her father’s butler had told her she was now alone in the world, as her parents had just died.
Chapter Two
The guests numbered many, and the wedding breakfast was situated in a large banquet room with two rows of tables groaning with the weight of the food being feasted on and wine being copiously consumed. Grace picked at the delicacies in front of her; she had no appetite and in fact was feeling light-headed. Her gown was heavy and the air hot and stifling. She longed to escape to her room, wherever that may be, and remove it, then tear off the corset and inhale deeply.
She’d entered the huge townhouse behind her husband with her knees shaking, looking around at the grandeur that was to be her home. There was no clutter or mess, nor did she see a great deal of color or warmth. Grand, curved staircases swept upward from the left and right, starting at the black and white tiled floor polished to such a shine, Grace could see her pale face in each square. A huge chandelier dropped from the ceiling and she wondered which poor servant had the task of trying to clean that.
“Would you care for a sweetbread, my Lady?”
“No, thank you.” Grace swallowed the nausea that rose in her throat as the servant spoke.
Why had he done this? Why host this big wedding breakfast with all these people when the marriage had been forced upon him? She may not have spent a lot of time in society, but Grace understood it’s rules, and that a lavish ceremony was often what happened at the weddings of noblemen. Yet this was different, neither of them wished for the union. Therefore, surely it would have suited the circumstances to be married quietly and be done with it. After all, it was not a cause for celebration for either of them.
“Is there a problem with the food, Grace?”
“No,” She shook her head as the earl questioned her in that cold, clear tone. “It is wonderful, thank you, my Lord.”
“And yet you’ve eaten nothing,” he added.
“I am not hungry,” she said, wanting to snap at him to leave her alone. My appetite has vanished due to the fear of what is to become of me, she added silently. Grace was not comfortable with the unknown; she liked to have her life mapped out to ensure there were no surprises. It seemed that was about to change.
“If we are to make the best of this situation perhaps you should make more of an effort, Lady Attwood. After all, it was not of my making.”
“And as I have explained, Lord Attwood. I did not desire this union any more than you, and unlike you I cannot simply smile and offer pleasantries when my life is now filled with uncertainties.”
He looked at her for several long drawn-out seconds, and Grace thought perhaps he was not used to people speaking to him as she had.
“Very well,” was his only reply before turning away from her once more.
Grace doubted she would see much of him anyway. After all, what did they have in common? And hadn’t Ruth said that important men like the earl had little time for anything that was not important? Grace was definitely not important.
A terrible thought slipped into her head. Would he send her away to the country somewhere, so he did not have to see her?
Would she see Harry or Ruth again? He could do that to her, Grace knew. The power was all his now and she had no say in her future.
“Is there a problem, Grace?” He was looking at her again, his face cool and emotionless. “You made a sound.”
“I-I… Will you send me away?” Grace knew it was not the place for this discussion, but suddenly it was vitally important to her. “I know that when the season finishes I will leave, but will you send me away soon? Will I ever return to London?”
The calm look on his face slipped away at her words, and then he blinked and was composed once more.
“I don’t believe that now is the time to discuss that, Grace. Perhaps we shall do so in the morning.”
Not a yes, nor was it a no, but now that the thought had crawled into Grace’s head, she knew it would simmer away in there until she had an answer. Yet, she could not push for one here in front of all these people, so she said nothing further.
In the large room lined with impressive paintings and mirrors, she felt his eyes brush over her occasionally while she sat in silence over the next hour. No one spoke with her. Even Harry and Ruth were seated somewhere she could not find them. People approached the table, and then left after a few words with the earl, but never her. He never mentioned her or drew her into the conversation, and she thought that rude, which in turn made her angry and that helped her cope. Women glared at her when she looked around the tables, sending furious hate-filled looks her way, which she tried to return with an implacable gaze until finally the guests started to take their leave.
Grace’s head was pounding, and she was sure she would cast up what little food she’d eaten if she did not remove her corset with some expediency, as her breathing was growing weaker by the second. Standing as the nausea took an ominous roll around her belly, she left the table without speaking to the earl. She found Harry and forced a smile on her face as she bid both he and Ruth farewell.
“I will call upon you tomorrow, Harry, and please remember to take your tonic tonight so you sleep easily,” she added.
“You’ll call upon me tomorrow?” The look of relief in her cousin’s eyes told Grace she had said the right thing.
“Of course. I told you that my marrying the earl only changes where I sleep at night, nothing further.”
“There, you see, Harry?” Ruth said taking his arm. “All will be right once again.”
She didn’t cry as she watched them walk away from her, the only two people in this large world who belonged to her. Grace felt very small and alone at that moment.
Finding a set of stairs that would hopefully take her toward the location of her room, she started walking up them.
The house was huge, and as grand upstairs as it was below, however there was a great deal more color, she was relieved to note. Walls were painted in soft colors and bordered in gilt edging. Paintings hung in gold frames, and ornaments sat on shelves and in cabinets. Thick Rugs that ran the entire length of the hall muffled her footsteps as she walked.
Where was one of the many servants that had walked in and out of the dining room she had just left? She was now desperate to reach her room, as her head was pounding furiously.
She opened and closed doors on the second floor, looking for a room that might belong to her. Her head was beginning to feel odd, and she had a nasty feeling this was what happened before you fainted. Grace had never done that before, and when she did, she wanted privacy.
“May I be of assistance to you, Lady Attwood?”
The woman who approached was not dressed in maids’ clothing, but a fancy gown of pale pink silk. Her blonde hair was elaborately pinned to her head and dotted with small matching blossoms. She was everything Grace was not, and undoubtedly one of those women who usually ignored her on one of the few occasions she frequented society.
“I-I…” Grace didn’t want this woman to know that she had no idea where her room was, because she was sure that if she told her, this news would be gossip fodder for many by night fall.
“I am Miss Whitlow, the earl’s cousin.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Grace gritted her teeth and managed a passable curtsey without moving her head too much.
“You are unwell?” The woman drew closer until she had Grace’s hand in hers. “Let me help you.”
“I-I fear that for the first time in my life, I am about to faint,” Grace whispered.
“Come, let me take you to your rooms then.”
Miss Whitlow placed an arm around Grace’s waist and helped her along the hall. The door she opened led into a huge room that Grace was sure would make her mouth drop open if she were not struggling to stay upright.
“Come now, the bed is through that door.”
“Dear lord, I’m certain this room is bigger than the house I grew up in,” Grace whispered, which made Miss Whitlow laugh.
“Will you allow me to remove your gown, or shall I call for your maid?”
“If you would release the buttons, I can manage the rest.”
Grace was beyond caring that a woman she had become acquainted with just a few minutes ago was about to see her undergarments; she just wanted to take a deep breath.
“Goodness, this corset is tight,” Miss Whitlow said as she worked on the knots, after she and Grace had removed the dress. “It’s a wonder you didn’t pass out some time ago.”
“I’m a determined sort, and the thought of London society having more to gossip about on my behalf kept me upright.”
“Yes, well I can imagine that would keep anyone going.”
The corset suddenly loosened and Grace took a deep breath before she pushed it from her body and slumped onto the bed.
“Oh, the blessed relief,” she sighed, now in just her shift. The itching had stopped and she could fill her lungs with air. “I can never thank you enough, Miss Whitlow, and apologize for my behavior.”
“Apologize?” The woman wrinkled her nose. “What have you to apologize for?”
“For what I did to your cousin, when I’m sure, like the rest of society, you felt he should not be marrying a woman such as I, but one more like…” Grace searched for a suitable description and her eyes fell on Miss Whitlow. “You,” she added. “Also for causing you the inconvenience of having to coming to my aid.”
The woman tilted her head to one side and studied Grace briefly.
“Did you expect me to walk past you?”
“Yes.” Grace could still hear the accusations that had been flung at her head the night she had tripped on the table leg and landed on the earl’s large solid body. Scandalous behavior for a young lady, to have thrown herself at a man so far above her. The earl should walk away from her; it’s no more than she deserves, the hussy.
“You’re shivering, my Lady.” Miss Whitlow took Grace’s hand and urged her to her feet, and then pulling the covers back helped her beneath them. “You stay here and I shall call for your maid and some tea to warm you.”
“Grace,” she said, huddling under the covers. “My name is Grace.”
“That’s a lovely name,” Lady Whitlow said, pulling the covers up to Grace’s chin. “And you shall call me Beth.”
“Sh-should I?” Grace asked.
“Yes, and now I shall leave you to sleep and soon you will be back to rights, and then we shall get to know each other better.”
“We will?” Grace knew she sounded foolish but she was surprised the woman would want to get to know her better.
“Yes, we will.”
She watched Miss Whitlow leave the room then and sighed as the door closed softly. Grace let her eyes wander slowly around the room. It was big; at least three times the size of her room at Harry’s house. The sitting room they had passed through had been big as well. Closing her eyes as sleep pulled at her, Grace thought that a few minutes of rest would help her to cope with what came next in her life… whatever that may be.
Chapter Three
Nicholas sat in his study with his boots on one corner of his desk while his
three friends rested theirs on various other pieces of furniture. His wife had disappeared when he wasn’t looking and not returned, and he hoped she had found her way to her rooms.
His wife.
Dear lord, he was married, and to a mousy spinster with terrible taste in clothing. He’d been surprised when she’d spoken so directly to him today, telling him she had not wished to be his countess, because he’d believed her a shy bookish type. Of course her protestations were simply a lie… weren’t they? Nick kept seeing the utter devastation on the faces of Grace and her cousin Lord Harrington when he’d refused to yield to their request that he not marry her. It had all been a ploy, of course. It was not possible that they were actually telling the truth.
“I know she does not deserve my sympathies, but I felt sorry for your new wife today, Nick. She looked lost and lonely at the church, especially when the guests all surged forward to speak to you, but said not one word to her,” Marcus, Viscount Needly, said. “I still find it hard believe she is of such a calculating nature.”
“What is done is done, Marcus; we must move on from here.” Nick thought again about that night when his life had changed… and not for the better.
He’d wanted a few minutes peace, some time alone away from the pressures of the ballroom. He was sick of woman fawning all over him and men with little or no common sense. He had heard Miss Grace Esselte enter the room, and risen to see who it was, and at that moment she’d tripped, and the rest was history.
“Well, she definitely caught a husband well above anything she would have achieved without trickery.” This was from Leo, Marquis of Vereton, who was seated before the fire with feet balanced one on top of the other, as he stared morosely into the depths. “Whey-faced little creature that she is.”
“She’s my wife, Leo, have a care how you speak about her,” Nick said softly. He may not want to be married to Grace, but she was now under his protection. He would not stand for anyone speaking ill of her in front of him, even his closest friends.
