by Wendy Vella
“Shall we be walking to Lord Harrington’s, my Lady?”
“Do you know the way there, Bessie?” Grace questioned her maid. They had often walked places, but usually close to where Harry lived.
“I do yes,” the maid nodded. “It will take us about twenty minutes.”
“Excellent, lead on then.” Grace would enjoy the exercise, especially after the anxiety of the last few days.
“Hello, Monty,” she said to her cousin’s butler as he opened the door to her and Bessie a short while later. “Is Lord Harrington still having breakfast?”
“He is, my Lady, and Miss Munn has also called.”
“Excellent. Set me a place please, I’m starving.”
Grace felt the last of the tension inside her start to ease as she walked down the familiar hallway, past the drawings that she had done for Harry and he had hung on the walls.
“Good morning, Ruth, cousin.”
“Grace!” His smile was so sweet she felt like crying. Nipper came scurrying forward and leapt at her. She caught him and held his little quivering body close. Scruffy with stiff white bristling hair, the little dog had a black patch over one eye and one ear that flopped while the other stood up.
“You’re here early, Ruth,” Grace said, putting down the dog.
“I was passing and dropped Harry some of the fresh buns I got for father.”
“How kind you are,” Grace said, wondering when her cousin would realize that Miss Ruth Munn adored him. Of course, Harry was oblivious to anything when he was working on a project, but she still hoped that one day he would see the look of yearning in her friend’s eyes.
“Did you walk here with, Bessie?” Ruth asked.
“I did, and before you lecture me on my improper behavior, let me remind you I have always walked about London with my maid, That is not about to change just because I have married an Earl.”
“Tis my fault,” Harry sighed. “Grace has always done just as she wished.”
“However, I rarely stray from the path society has set for me, Harry. Besides, no one is the least interested in my behavior.”
“They will be interested in you now, Grace,” Ruth said.
Dear lord, she hadn’t thought of that when she’d left Lord Attwood’s house. Now she was wed to him, there would indeed be a great deal of interest in her behavior.
“Perhaps next time you can take the carriage.”
“Perhaps,” Grace said. More changes were to take place in her life it seemed, and not for the better.
They talked for a while and then Ruth left, saying she must return to her father.
“Right then, we must eat quickly as there is a lot to do today,” Harry said, taking the seat he had sat in every morning for the past three years. “I have set a man to investigating the theft of those letters from Mr. Zavorski, Grace, and hope to have some news from him tomorrow afternoon.”
“It is strange though, don’t you think, Harry?”
“Very, and not something we have had happen before.”
“I only translated two of the letters, but I wonder if perhaps there is a deeper meaning behind them, something underhanded,” Grace said, trying to remember exactly what was written in them and failing.
“Yes, I had wondered that,” Harry said. “But as we have other things to work on, there is little we can gain by speculation. Therefore, we must put it behind us.”
“All right,” Grace said, pulling some papers toward her.
Minutes later they were both working as if nothing had changed from yesterday morning. Pushing aside her doubts about leaving the house without telling her husband, she instead concentrated on what she loved doing.
Chapter Four
Nick spent the morning in his study, and was due to meet with his friends at Night Street at two o’clock. He would ask his wife to take tea with him before he left, because he was sure she would have questions after spending the morning acquainting herself with his household.
It would be a relief to turn that side of his life over to her. His staff was competent, but they still needed guidance. Now that would come from Grace; once she learned the way he liked everything run. Vidal and Mrs. Willows would show her over time.
“You wished to see me, my Lord?” Vidal appeared in his doorway.
“Yes, please tell my wife I will take tea with her before I leave for my afternoon appointments.”
He would need to give her an allowance; some money for the things woman wanted to buy upon occasion, a book, or some such thing. Then there was the matter of her hideous clothing; that would need to be addressed at some stage also.
“Lady Attwood left the house just after her morning meal, my Lord, and has not yet returned.”
“What?” Nick stared at his butler.
“She left, my Lord, but did not furnish me with her location.”
“She has been gone for,” he looked at the clock beside the door, “three hours and I am just now being notified?”
“I was unaware you did not know, my Lord.” His butler looked pained.
“Did she take the carriage?” Nick could feel his anger rising.
“No, my Lord.”
“Did someone collect her then?”
Vidal shook his head.
“Then how did she leave?” Nick had not yet made provisions for her to have a horse, and did not think her cousin had sent one over.
“Well, as to that, my Lord,” Vidal was now looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Speak, Vidal!”
“I believe she left on foot.”
“What!” Nick climbed to his feet. “She left on foot?”
“That is my understanding, my Lord, her maid accompanied her.”
He couldn’t believe it. His wife had sat across from him drinking tea at the breakfast table, then excused herself and left the house. She hadn’t mentioned she was leaving; simply walked out the front door.
“You may go now, but let me know the minute she returns, Vidal.”
Had she gone to her cousin’s, or the rosy-cheeked friend’s? He knew nothing about Grace other than the fact she spoke five languages. But what he did know, was that his countess should not have left the house on foot.
He left for his appointments; still seething at the irresponsible behavior of his countess, and when he arrived at Night Street thirty minutes later his mood had not improved.
The building was inconspicuous from the front, just a small gray stone square, nestled between two similar facades. The front door was white with a small black 14 on it. Lawyers, accountants, and other men of the London business world inhabited the street.
Nick did not knock. Removing a key from his pocket, he inserted it and then entered, closing and locking the door behind him. The hallway was narrow and opened into a small reception room that housed four chairs and a desk, behind which sat a man.
“Perkins,” Nick said, nodding to him.
“Lord Attwood, good day to you.” Perkins lowered his head back to his work after this greeting, and Nick moved deeper into the house. Opening another door, he then descended into the basement.
He heard the rumble of voices as he drew nearer his destination, where he saw his three friends, all seated at a large round wooden table.
“Hail, Gallant, the married among us!” Jacob said with a smile, which fell from his lips as he noted Nick’s scowl.
“One day you’ve been married and already you look like so many other men of that state,” Leo said. “Your scowl would also suggest the marriage is still not consummated, although… perhaps it has been and it was such a disaster—”
“She left the house this morning after our morning meal, with her maid, on foot, telling no one of her destination,” Nick cut him off.
Marcus whistled softly.
“I am of course not disputing that what she did was wrong, Nick, but I feel I must say that she is possibly unaware of how she should behave as your wife,” Jacob added. “She has lived, from what I gather, with her co
usin and no female to guide her. Perhaps she believed you would not be concerned with her behavior.”
“She is an adult, Jacob, she should have known this was unacceptable,” Nick said. “I can’t have my countess walking about London when no one in the household is aware of where she has gone; it is just not done.”
“True,” Marcus said. “But it is only one day after your wedding. I’m sure some people are as yet unaware of your nuptials.”
Nick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did not want a wife, but had believed the one I did end up with would be manageable and undemanding. I seem to have that wrong.”
“Just tell her how you expect her to behave; I’m sure she’ll understand,” Marcus added. “She hardly looks the type to be challenging.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right. I shall talk with her this evening.”
“Thank you.” Leo slapped Nick on the back.
“For what?”
“Reinforcing why I have no wish to marry.”
Nick grunted something uncomplimentary and then took his seat at the table.
Night Street had started when Jacob’s sister had been abducted and the four of them had found her. It had been three tense days, but they had realized soon after, that the skills they had learned fighting for their country, should be used to assist those who needed it.
Perkins ran the office, screened all prospective clients, and acted as the go-between for the four lords. It was imperative their identities stayed secret, as anonymity was a key factor in their success. They’d solved many cases, ranging from stolen jewels to abduction and murder, and word had quickly spread. They were now inundated with inquiries to hire their services. They charged a small fee that was donated to charity.
Nick tried to concentrate on business, and their next case, but his head was focused on Grace. Where the hell was she? He would have a great deal to say to her when he returned home.
He’d been married one day and already she was causing him angst. Well, it would not last. He’d put a stop to it this very day!
“Even though you have employed someone to find those letters, I think perhaps I shall call at this address,” Grace said, looking at the card in her hand for another investigative service. “After all, they have a very good reputation, Harry, and it can’t hurt to have more than one pair of eyes searching.”
Grace put the card on her desk and began buttoning up her coat in preparation of her departure after a full day of work. She was still very concerned about the stolen letters that she had been translating.
“If it will make you feel better, Grace, then do so.” Harry waved a hand at her. Still seated at his desk, he was busy working on a French play that he was translating into English.
“I wish I could remember exactly what they said,” Grace added, pulling on her bonnet. “I cannot remember anything odd about them, and like I have said repeatedly since they were stolen, why anyone would want them?”
“We cannot ask Mr. Zavorski that until he returns from Russia, Grace.” Harry placed a finger on the line he was working on before looking up at her. “It is my hope that before he does, we will once again have them back in our possession and you can complete them.” Harry’s hair stood up from his head, as it often did when he was working.
“I don’t think Mr. Zavorski will be very happy, Harry. In fact, my earlier worry that he is a dangerous man is stronger than ever. Please do not speak with that man alone, should he pay you a call when I am not here.”
“He did nothing to make you form this opinion of him, Grace.”
She looked at her gentle cousin and thought again how worrying it was that she was not at his side to stop him falling into the hands of someone who would take his kind nature and use it against him.
“Please, Harry, just send word to me if he arrives and I am not here; that is all I ask of you.”
He climbed to his feet and patted her head, which he often did when he thought she needed soothing, like a small puppy.
“Don’t worry, my dear.”
Grace gave up. “It is time for you to have your meal, then relax for the evening with a book. I shall return in the morning and we can begin our investigations again.”
“Thank you, dear.” Harry kissed her cheek. “It is a relief to know you will be back, and as you stated, not much has actually changed, only that you no longer sleep here. Shall I call the carriage for you; the skies look as if they are darkening?”
“It is only a short trip, Harry, don’t fuss. I have Bessie with me.” Grace remembered Ruth’s words then, ‘they will be interested in you now, Grace.’ This would be her last walk through London she thought. A final goodbye to her freedom, and the life she had once lived. Tomorrow she would bring the carriage to Harry’s, which should make her friend happy.
Grace gave Nipper a hug and then let herself out the door with Bessie on her heels. Looking upward, she saw a few storm clouds. Perhaps they should have left earlier. Well, it was too late for that now. Grace struck out for the earl’s house and wondered if it would ever be her house.
The rain started ten minutes into their journey, and soon carriages were trundling by, splattering them. By the time she reached the earl’s residence she was shivering and covered in mud.
She knocked on the door, which was soon opened by Vidal.
“G-good afternoon, Vidal,” Grace said, hurrying inside. “I shall remove my boots and coat before I take another step,” she added, struggling with the ties of her bonnet, as the rain had knotted them. “I would not want to track mud and water over your floors.”
“I shall help you, my Lady.” Bessie quickly took off the bonnet and Grace handed her, her wet coat and gloves, then bent to remove her boots.
“I shall prepare a bath, Lady Attwood.”
“Only after you have dried yourself, Bessie,” Grace added as her maid hurried away with the wet things.
“So you have returned.”
Grace had been shaking out her skirts, but her hands stilled as she looked to the top of the stairs, where her husband stood glowering down at her.
“Good afternoon, my Lord.” She curtseyed.
“I wish to speak with you, now, Grace. Please come to my study at once.”
He did not wait for her reply, just walked away.
“I-I, um, is there a problem?” Grace looked at Vidal, who was giving her a sympathetic look.
“I believe Lord Attwood was unaware you were leaving the house this morning, my Lady,” Vidal said.
“Oh dear.” Would he stop her from leaving the house now? She should have spoken to him this morning and told him she was to go and see Harry, and would do so most days.
“Sh-should I change first, Vidal?” Grace said, looking down at her damp muddy hem.
“I would not advise it, my Lady,” Vidal said gently. “I shall bring a tea tray to the earl’s study shortly. It is situated up the stairs and three doors along on the right hand side.”
“All right. Thank you, Vidal.”
Grace started up the stairs and made her way down the hall with her heart thumping heavily in her chest. She knocked on the door.
“Enter!”
The word was barked, so Grace took a deep breath and then opened the door to walk inside.
“Shut it, please, Grace.” He rose briefly, and motioned her to a chair before his desk.
“I-I will stand, my Lord, as my skirts are damp.”
“You will sit,” he said in a clipped tone, so she did, as he did not appear to be in a negotiating mood.
He did not wear a jacket, only shirtsleeves, and this was the first time she had seen him dressed that way. It made him look softer. Of course this was not the case, yet he did appear more approachable.
“Where have you been today?”
He was angry, his dark eyes glaring at her.
“To visit with my cousin, my Lord.”
“And you did not feel that anyone should be notified as to where you had gone… on foot, for�
��” He looked at the clock on the wall over the top of her head. “—six hours.”
“No,” Grace said. He waited for her to elaborate, but as Grace was nervous and did not wish to antagonize him further, she said nothing else.
“No,” he said softly. “You wish to offer nothing further?”
Grace nodded, which seemed to make him angrier, as he rose to his feet and braced his hands on the desk, leaning on them toward her. It was an intimidating pose, and Grace swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her throat.
“Countesses do not leave the house and fail to return for six hours without telling anyone where they have gone,” he said. “It was irresponsible and foolhardy, not to mention dangerous, Grace.”
“I was in no danger, my Lord.”
“What if something had happened to you and no one was aware of your identity?” He was growling now.
“I had my maid with me and was with my cousin the rest of the time,” she said quickly, hoping that would appease him.
“You walked, Grace, there and back…along streets I would rather you did not frequent, in conditions that are at best termed, bleak.
“H-how did you know that?”
“Are you telling me you didn’t walk?”
She shook her head. “No, I did walk, but—”
“Well it matters not then how I know, only that I do. You will not walk the streets of London again.”
“Do you?” Grace said and then instantly wished she hadn’t.
“Do I what?”
She had to tell him now she’d started. “Leave the house alone, without telling anyone where you are going.”
“It is different for me,” he said slowly. “And after what happened to you at the ball, I would think you would be aware of just how fragile a woman’s reputation is. Furthermore, you are now my countess and what you do reflects on me. Therefore, I will not have you leaving this house without alerting me as to where you wish to go and with whom, then I shall determine if you may do so.”
Grace had a temper. It rarely surfaced, but when it was tweaked it was not easy to rein back in. And he had just tweaked it.
“I will not be kept away from my cousin or my dog, my Lord.” Stay calm Grace, nothing good ever came of you losing your temper.
