by Wendy Vella
The horror on Grace’s face when she’d realized what she’d done that night at the ball kept coming back to Nick. There had been no calculating smile, only genuine fear. Was she that accomplished an actress that she could look that way? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wondered why these doubts were plaguing him. It made no difference; he’d had to marry her, it was his honor at stake also.
“You would stand up for her? The woman who threw herself at you?” Leo looked disgusted.
“She is my wife, and one day the mother of my children. I cannot have others speaking of her in derogatory terms, therefore neither shall I,” Nick added.
“Her cousin’s an odd fish, too. He was at Eton with my cousin, and spent most of his time translating things, if I remember rightly,” Marcus said.
“He begged me not to marry her,” Nick said slowly before he could stop himself. The wine was loosening his tongue.
“He did what?” Leo looked stunned. “Surely you jest?”
Shaking his head, Nick remembered the interview. “Lord Harrington said, and I quote, ‘My cousin has no wish to marry you, Lord Attwood, therefore we shall retire to the country to avoid further scandal upon your name, and you need never see her again.’“
“You did not believe him, surely, Nick?” Marcus said. “He had to be involved in the the plan to trap you.”
“At the time I didn’t, but the more I am in their company, the more I wonder if she simply tripped. Because she’s never once shown anything but horror at the prospect of marrying me,” Nick gave voice to his thoughts.
“She’s just a bloody sneaky woman, and like all of them, an excellent actress,” Leo added.
“Please remember that she is my wife, Leo.” Nick knew he’d been thinking those same thoughts, but still he would not accept them from anyone else, even the men he knew better than himself.
As children they had formed a friendship, as their fathers had before them. Twice a year their families had gathered, and it was those memories that to Nick were the fondest. They had run over their estates; climbing trees, fighting, and doing anything they could get away with without raising the ire of their nannies.
Nick still remembered the day Marcus had decided they must have nicknames. They had fashioned swords from branches and were battling the enemy, so he had given them names for the brave soldiers they were.
Nick was Gallant. Valiant, was Marcus, Lord Needly. He was tallest of their group, with blond curls and bright blue eyes that made woman flock around his coat tails. Like Nick, he had a serious nature and was slow to anger. Noble was Leo, Marquis of Vereton, a man with a quick wit and equally quick temper. He had eyes the color of midnight and hair to match, and a deep distrust of woman that stemmed from a broken heart at the hands of the only woman he had vowed to love. Lastly came Valorous, Jacob, Viscount of Hatherton. With dark hair and green eyes, he was the gentlest among them, and appeared to have an inexhaustible supply of calm. Until you crossed him or someone he cared for, then he was a man to be feared.
They had experienced a lot together over the years, and their bond of friendship had never waned, only strengthened. Behind the lines in France, they had survived because of that bond, and now they had banded together again to help those who could not help themselves.
“Well, may I suggest you see about begetting an heir, then you can settle her in the country, Nick,” Leo said. “We have work to do, and you are often gone for days at a time and late into the night. If your wife has half her wits, she may be the one to realize that you are one of the Lords of Night Street, and none of us wish for our identities to be known.”
“Crudely put, Leo, but actually a wise idea, loathe as I am to agree with you. One of us had to marry at some stage; Nick has just come first,” Jacob said. “Therefore, why not get an heir now? Chances are that if she is pre-occupied with her child, she will pose no problem for us, even if she stays in London.”
“You all seem to have a great deal to say about my marital life, yet not one of you has ever achieved such a state,” Nick said.
“We are not dim-witted enough to get trapped like you,” Leo drawled.
“Dim-witted I may me, but I can still ride my horse in a straight line without ending up on my backside, with half of society watching me,” Nick said.
“My horse was spooked,” Leo protested.
“And if your equestrian skills were as sharp as ours you would have held your seat,” Nick added.
“I am not one to notice the cut of a woman’s gown like the rest of you,” Jacob interrupted their discussion as Nick caught the small ornament that Leo threw at his head and placed it carefully on his desk. Trading insults with these men was as natural as breathing.
“However, I have to admit your wife looked hideous in the mud-colored dress today,” he said bringing the conversation back to Grace.
“Not sure how you’re going to rake up the enthusiasm to bed her, old man,” Marcus said, pouring himself more brandy. “Perhaps you should drink a bit more, that may help.”
Nick hadn’t thought about the consummation of his marriage, but guessed he should at some stage. Leo was right, if they had a child now, his heir would be secured. He could place both Grace and the child in the country, and his life need not change at all.
“Best not to wait to consummate,” Leo said. “Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Nick queried.
“In case she can’t have children. Better to know sooner rather than later so you can make contingency plans.”
“Dear God, you are a callous bastard,” Nick said.
“I want to know, what the contingency plans are?” Jacob inquired, which everyone ignored.
“Even if you believed he was lying, why did you not at least attempt to take the way out, Nick, when Lord Harrington presented you with one?” Leo asked him.
“I will not be responsible for ruining a woman. Plenty of men have done so but I will not be one of them. My honor is important… as it is to all of us,” he added.
“You and your bloody honorable intentions,” Marcus muttered.
“Well, plenty of marriages are formed without love, Nick,” Jacob said. “In fact half of society is in a loveless marriage, and perhaps that is the best option as then there are no messy emotions involved.”
“Here, here,” Leo and Marcus agreed. Nick, however, remained silent.
The tap on the door to his study stalled any further discussion on the topic, thankfully.
“Enter,” Nick said.
“I have come to say goodbye, Nick.” His cousin Elizabeth stood framed in the doorway. Tall and elegant, she was sought by many eligible men for her beauty, but as yet had rebuffed all her suitors. Her eyes widened as she noted his friends, and then narrowed as they encountered Leo. She and the Marquis have never been on friendly terms and Nick was not actually sure why.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Miss Whitlow,” the men replied, gaining their feet to offer her a bow.
“Please do not let me disturb you, I wished for a few minutes alone with my cousin.”
“Of course, please excuse me,” Nick said to his friends as he rose and followed Beth from the room. “What has upset you?” He took her arm when they reached the hallway, turning her to face him. “I know you well enough to see that something has.”
“I have just found your wife in the halls as she attempted to find her room. She was pale and close to fainting, which she luckily did not do until I helped her to her rooms.”
“Is she all right?”
“She is now, she is lying down.”
“Then I must thank you for taking care of her, Beth.”
She looked at him for several seconds, and Nick withstood the inspection. She would say what she wanted in her own time.
“Will you send her away, Nick?” Beth addressed him now, her expression as cool as her words.
“I have not yet thought the matter through.”
“And what of Grace, does s
he have a say in this decision, seeing as it is her life you are deciding?”
“When did she become Grace to you?”
“When I realized she was scared and alone in a house, and did not even know how to find her rooms, as no one had shown them to her.”
Guilt settled on Nick’s shoulders.
“I did not expect a wife, Beth, nor want one, especially not one who tricked me. Therefore, I would hope you understand that the adjustment is not all on her part.”
Her features softened. “I do, cousin, but please do not be too harsh on her. I’m not actually sure now that she did trick you.”
“Why do you think that?” Nick said. Her thoughts mirrored his own.
“Because the woman I just left is scared and lonely, and the devastation in her eyes was very real, Nick, and not something I believe could be contrived.”
“I shall think about what you have said, cousin, but for now, thank you for looking after her,” Nick said, kissing her cheek.
“I am leaving now, but will return in a few days. I plan to spend some time getting to know your wife better,” she added before walking away.
“That woman is a viper,” Leo said when he re-entered the room.
“And also my cousin, so have a care how you speak about her,” Nick added.
They talked for a while longer, and then his friends left. Nick was once again alone to contemplate the fact that he now had a wife. Beth had said she was pale and shaken, possibly about to faint, and he wondered if perhaps Grace was ill and in need of a doctor. At the very least, he should take the time to check. Climbing to his feet, he left the room and headed for the stairs. Taking them slowly, he finally arrived at her door and knocked. When she answered, he opened it, and entered.
“Lord Attwood, I had expected my maid.”
She sat in the bed, her hair hanging in a long plait that rested on one breast. The nightdress she wore was white and seemed two sizes too big for her body, and buttoned to the neck with a high collar. She looked as he imagined his grandmother had when she’d sat in her bed awaiting her husband. Around her shoulders rested a grey shawl, and her hands clutched the covers. Pale and wide-eyed, she looked younger than her twenty-five years.
“My cousin told me you are unwell. I was checking to see if you had recovered.” His words sounded gruff, because he had no experience with women such as the one who was now his wife. He could see the exhaustion in her face, and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her cheeks were pale, and she still had a sickly tinge to her that told Nick she was not feeling as she should.
“Thank you, that is most kind of you, my Lord, but I am now recovered.”
She was lying.
“I will leave you then, Grace. But if you require anything further please ring the bell, and someone will attend you.”
“Are you… Do you…” her words trailed off.
“Do I what?”
“Will you want to…” she waved a hand about her.
“Ah,” Nick said, understanding what she was implying. “Yes, we will consummate this marriage, but I think not tonight, as you are feeling unwell.”
Her two top teeth nibbled her bottom lip, making her look even younger.
“Thank you, my Lord, for that.”
He thought about what Grace had given up. Her cousin, whom she obviously loved, and the life they had shared for so many years. The weight of guilt once again settled around Nick as he looked at her. He’d not thought about what this day would mean for her, because he had been consumed by his own anger and frustration.
“I am not an ogre, Grace, contrary to what you may have heard. We shall rub along well enough.”
“Shall we?” She was frowning now.
“These kinds of marriages happen all the time,” Nick said, wondering what the hell he was doing even having this discussion with her. He was close with five people; his friends and Beth, but no others. Closeness often led to weakness, and he never wanted to be seen as weak, and most especially not to this woman.
“Do they?” Her brown eyes were staring intently at him now.
“Yes,” he said abruptly. Then offering a bow, he murmured good night and left her rooms before he said something else that may give her reason to believe he was a man who shared confidences, and cared about the feelings of his wife.
Grace woke and lay in her bed, staring into the darkness. The hour would be early, as she always rose before the rest of the household, or had, she amended, when she lived with her cousin. She pushed aside the covers; she did not want to think about Harry, that path led to sadness. Reaching the windows, she drew the curtains and looked outside. The sun was slowly rising and the morning looked promising, as if the day to follow would be one without rain or clouds. Looking out over the gardens, she wondered what it would hold for her.
He’d come to her room last night, her husband, and said he was not an ogre, contrary to what she’d heard, and that they would consummate the marriage, however not last night. Did that mean they would tonight? Grace hoped not; in fact she hoped he forgot all about consummation and marital beds, and visited his mistress, which she was sure he had.
After washing and dressing, Grace discovered she was hungry, and why wouldn’t she be after eating nothing yesterday? She was never one to miss a meal and had no plans to start now, so when her maid returned after removing her bathing water Grace asked her where the breakfast parlor was.
“I believe on the floor below, my Lady, but if you wish, I could have a tray brought up for you.”
“No. Thank you, Bessie, but I need to find my way about, and to do that I would actually need to leave my room,” Grace said, slipping her feet into slippers. She may not want to be married, but she was, and now that she was feeling more herself, she needed to make the best of it.
Leaving the room, she walked down the hall then descended the stairs, and found another maid.
“Would you be so kind as to direct me to the breakfast parlor?”
Following the maid, she walked through an open door seconds later and stopped.
The earl sat reading the paper, and she saw his surprise as he realized it was she who had entered the room. His hair was slightly damp and turned up over his collar. He wore a jacket of deep green with a pristine white shirt, and necktie with a pale gray waistcoat. He looked as alert and handsome as he had every time she had seen him.
“My Lady.” He lowered the newspaper and gained his feet to bow.
“My Lord.” Grace curtseyed and then felt her courage flee now she was actually standing before the man whom yesterday she had married. Color filled her cheeks as she turned to leave.
“Do you not wish to eat, Grace?”
“I do not wish to intrude,” she replied, still looking at the door she had just walked through.
“Are you hungry?”
Reluctantly, Grace turned to face him once more. He was still standing, watching her steadily, while she moved from foot to foot and fidgeted.
“I am.”
“Then sit and eat.” He moved around the table and pulled out a chair, signaling for her to come forward.
“I—ah, thank you.”
“I trust you slept well?” he then said, moving to seat himself once more.
It came naturally to him, these social niceties, whereas to Grace they were almost like a foreign language she had never quite mastered.
“Thank you, yes.” Grace looked down at the skirts of her gray gown and frowned as she noticed a small tear. When she looked up again a man had entered the room. She presumed he was the butler.
He spoke quietly to the earl and Grace could hear a hint of an accent.
“Grace, this is my butler, Vidal. He is Italian, but speaks English well.”
She found a smile for the man who now stood beside her. He was her height with a great deal of thick brown hair and soft brown eyes.
“Hello, Vidal, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I please have some tea and toast?” Grace said in fluent Italian, much to the
butler’s delight.
“Vidal will now be devoted to you, Grace. Is Italian the only language you speak?” The earl said after Vidal had left the room.
“No, my Lord.”
“And?” he said, looking at her.
“And what?” Grace asked, returning his gaze.
“What other languages do you speak, Grace?”
“French, Spanish, German, and Russian.”
His eyebrows rose. “Did your cousin teach you?”
Grace nodded, relieved that Vidal arrived at that moment with her tea. She was not a strong conversationalist at the best of times, but when her nerves were threatening to choke her, she was even worse.
They sat in silence, and she did not draw in a deep breath until the earl once again picked up his newspaper. Grace tried not to slurp her tea, but did not dare to eat her toast as she had no wish to make too much noise. Her appetite had suddenly fled anyway. When she was finished, she quickly regained her feet.
“Good day to you, my Lord.” Grace did not wait for him to answer, instead hurrying from the parlor.
Reaching her room, she found Bessie tidying things.
“We shall leave now for my cousin’s, so please meet me downstairs, Bessie.”
When the maid had left, Grace quickly pulled on her walking boots, cloak, and bonnet. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now, so she would simply do as she normally did and spend her day with Harry. Surely the earl would not even know she had gone; and indeed why would he care anyway. She and Harry had much to do to find the letters that had been stolen from the house last week.
Leaving her room, she made her way down the stairs, and after a few false starts she found the front door, where Bessie stood waiting for her.
“May I call you a carriage, my Lady?” Vidal appeared before her.
“That will not be necessary, Vidal, good day.”
He opened the door looking slightly confused, and Grace walked out followed by her maid. As she reached the bottom of the steps, she was able to draw her first deep breath of the day. They then made their way out the gates and down the road.
