by Laura Landon
Grace sat in front of him in the Raeborn box. Her sisters, Lady Caroline and Lady Josalyn, sat on either side of her. The men sat in chairs behind them, Wedgewood and Carmody on either side of him. Vincent tried to concentrate on the performance but couldn’t. His gaze focused on his wife, comparing her with her sisters. She was the smallest of the three, her shoulders narrower, her build slighter. And yet he’d already seen how big the babe inside her was growing.
A sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead. He realized again how afraid he was for her. How much he’d come to care for her.
How had he let this happen? How had he let her become so important to him when he swore he would not? He more than anyone knew the risks a man took by giving his heart to a woman. He more than anyone knew the heartache of losing someone you cared for. Yet he’d done it. He’d come to care for Grace even though he’d vowed not to.
He couldn’t wait to escape the small enclosure of their opera box. When the act was finished he stood with Wedgewood and Carmody. He needed to step outside to let the cool air clear his head. Grace and her sisters decided to stay above while the men stretched their legs.
“I heard a bit of news you might be interested in, Raeborn,” Wedgewood said as they walked down the winding stairs to the lobby below.
Vincent gave Wedgewood a sidelong glance, indicating his interest. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he led the way out the lobby doors to a less crowded area where they would not be overheard.
“Pinky said he ran into Fentington the other day quite by accident.”
Vincent felt his pulse race. Although Baron Pinkerton was not known to stay on the sober side, his facts were usually quite accurate. “Where?”
“Pinky was leaving a less reputable establishment he frequents in a seedier part of town and saw Fentington come out of one of the brothels down by the wharf. Pinky said he looked like the very devil, his clothes shabby and unkempt. As if he hadn’t changed in a week or more. Or bathed either.”
“Did Pinky talk to him?” Vincent asked, every nerve in his body sharpening.
“He tried. But Fentington was in no shape to carry on a conversation. Just spouted his religious piety and railed a few accusations, blaming society for turning its back on him. You in particular for causing his downfall. Pinky said there was a wild look in his eyes and...”
“Go on, Wedgewood,” Vincent said, fighting the anger building inside him.
“Well, he told Pinky you’d get what was coming to you. And he’d be there to see you get it.”
“What did he mean by that?” Carmody asked, reaching for a glass of champagne. “That sounds like a threat to my ears.”
Vincent reached for a glass too. “It is.”
He took a long sip, then told his two brothers-in-law about someone shooting at him and about the fire.
“Bloody hell, Raeborn,” Carmody said. “Why didn’t you tell someone? We’d all have been looking for the man. He’s obviously more dangerous than anyone realizes.”
Vincent finished his glass of champagne, listening to Wedgewood and Carmody discuss Fentington’s instability, discuss the options Vincent had if he couldn’t prove who’d shot him, or who’d tried to burn Grace and him in their sleep. He knew in the end there would only be one choice left to him. The man had already tried to kill him twice. He didn’t want to take the chance he’d succeed the next time.
The signal sounded for the start of the performance, and Vincent walked back to his box, barely listening while Wedgewood and Carmody continued to make plans to trap Fentington. When he reached his box, he stepped inside and looked ahead just as Grace turned to glance over her shoulder. Their gazes locked and her lips curved into a magnificent smile. His heart leaped to his throat.
He walked to his chair behind her, but before he sat, he reached out his arm. He needed to touch her. Needed to feel her flesh against his.
He placed his hand on the warm skin at her shoulder at the curve of her neck and saw her cheeks color. Without hesitation, she gently rested her gloved hand atop his. Then slowly turned her hand beneath his, palm to palm, and pressed his hand to her cheek.
Vincent’s body reacted with a need that was painful. This was how it always was when he was near her. No matter how hard he’d tried to keep from loving her, it was too late. He wanted her with a desperation he couldn’t control.
He sat down in his chair and barely listened to the end of the performance, his thoughts centered on a few hours from now when he’d have his wife in his arms, when he’d be a part of her. A few hours from now when they’d be alone together, just the two of them.
The performance came to a riveting conclusion, and the crowd rose to their feet in appreciation. Vincent was never so glad to have an opera end in his life. He stood and held out his arm for her to take.
“It was wonderful, wasn’t it, Vincent?” Grace said as he pulled her closer to him than was needed.
“Yes. Wonderful.”
She laughed as if she knew the scant attention he’d paid to the opera. As if she knew where his thoughts had strayed for the last hour or more. As if hers had gone there too.
They made their way down the winding stairway and across the large lobby. The crush waiting outside was huge, as usual, but Vincent led their little group away from the entrance to await their carriage. He didn’t mind so much having to wait, as long as he could hold Grace next to him. As long as she was beside him, touching him.
As usual she seemed to have a lot to discuss with her sisters. He was always amazed at how there was never a lull in their conversation when any of them were together.
He looked down the street and saw their carriage approach. He stepped closer to the street and loosened his grip on Grace’s arm to hail his driver. His driver signaled, and Vincent stepped back to look in the opposite direction.
A carriage came toward them at a steady pace. Vincent gave it a second glance, then turned back to where his party waited.
Just as he reached for Grace’s hand, something pushed him hard to the side. He stumbled and lost his balance.
He righted himself quickly enough, but felt a hard tug on his sleeve where Grace had hold of his arm. He spun his gaze in her direction just as she lurched forward.
“Grace!”
Vincent reached out his hand, grabbing for anything he could get hold of. His fingers clasped the loose-fitting mantle she wore, but the yards and yards of satin went on forever. He couldn’t get a tight enough grip to pull her back.
His heart leaped to his throat, his fear nearly suffocating him. Screams erupted all around him, and he fought to gain his footing and pull Grace to safety as she stumbled forward into the path of an oncoming carriage.
Vincent didn’t look at the carriage coming toward them. He didn’t need to. He could hear the thundering of horses’ hooves, felt the threat of tons of horseflesh ready to trample them. He reached out again with a greater desperation and this time felt something solid beneath his fingertips. Her arm.
Vincent wrapped his fingers around her in a viselike grip and pulled her to him, jerking her nearly off her feet. He barely had her safe up against him when the carriage rolled past them.
“Grace!”
Vincent held her in his arms while her sisters fussed around her. His entire body shook and he couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air, struggling to make his lungs work.
He could have lost her. The horses could have trampled her to death.
“Vincent.”
Or the carriage wheels run over her.
“Vincent.”
Or...
“Vincent, I can’t breathe.”
Vincent released his death grip and looked into her face. “Are you all right?” He ran his trembling hands over her arms and shoulders, then hugged her again, this time taking care not to crush her.
“I’m fine, I think. I’m not sure what happened. I think someone pushed me from behind.”
Before she could say anything else, Wedgewood
and Carmody ran toward them.
“We lost him in the crowd,” Carmody said, gasping for breath.
“Did you see what he looked like?”
Wedgewood shook his head. “It wasn’t anyone we recognized.”
Vincent took in a harsh breath and looked back down at Grace. Her face was pale and her eyes were still wide with fright, but she looked otherwise unhurt.
“I’m taking Grace home.”
“We’ll follow you,” Carmody said. “I doubt our wives would consider going home without making sure Grace is all right.”
Vincent nodded, then helped Grace into their waiting carriage. He sat down in the seat opposite her and pulled her onto his lap. “Are you all right, Grace?”
He heard her shaky breath and felt her nod her head against his chest.
“Do you hurt anywhere?”
She wrapped her arms tighter around him. “The babe is all right. Just hold me.”
Vincent held her while their carriage made its way home. He pulled the velvet curtains at the windows open wide to let in any light from the streetlights they passed. He needed to see her. Needed to be able to see her face.
“Perhaps it was an accident,” she whispered, but the doubt was evident in her voice.
When Vincent didn’t answer her, she stiffened in his arms but said no more until they arrived home. The carriage stopped and he lifted her out, then carried her through the front door and up the stairs to her room. “Do I need to send for the doctor?”
“No, Vincent. I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”
“You’re sure.”
“Positive.”
Before he could ask again, Lady Caroline and Lady Josalyn rushed into the room. They both ran to where he’d placed Grace on the bed.
“You’ll stay with her for a while?” he asked, knowing he needed to go down to talk to Wedgewood and Carmody.
Her sisters assured him they weren’t going anywhere.
Vincent leaned over the bed and kissed her softly. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Vincent, please—”
He held up his hand to stop her from asking him to promise not to do something he had no choice but to do. “You rest. I’ll have something warm to drink sent up.”
Vincent turned from the room and made his way to the study where Wedgewood and Carmody waited for him. He knew if he saw Fentington tonight, he’d kill him without giving him a chance to defend himself.
The rage inside him was building like a volcano ready to erupt. The terror he’d felt when he saw Grace stumble out onto the street stabbed through him like a pike being thrust through his heart.
He could have lost her tonight. He almost had, because he’d underestimated the lengths to which Fentington’s insanity would drive him.
He needed to find the man. Needed to get him before he succeeded and Grace...
He threw open the door to his study and closed it behind him.
“Is she all right?” Wedgewood asked. Vincent saw concern on both their faces.
“Yes. Frightened, but all right. Did either of you see anything?”
“Only what we told you. A small, wiry man in a black tailcoat running through the crowd just after Grace stumbled into the street.”
Vincent wiped the perspiration from his brow and started to say something, but spun around when Carver opened the door.
“Mr. Germaine is here, Your Grace. He insists on seeing you.”
“Show him in, Carver.”
Germaine nearly ran Carver down in his hurry. “How is she, Raeborn? I was at the opera tonight and heard what happened. You left so quickly that no one knew if Her Grace was injured in the mishap or not.”
“No. Grace is unhurt. Badly shaken, but unhurt.”
Germaine’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank God. I feared perhaps she’d been injured. Accidents like that can happen so fast.”
“It was no accident. Someone pushed Grace into the path of that carriage.”
Germaine’s jaw dropped. “Surely you aren’t serious?”
“I wish I weren’t.”
“Do you know who?”
“Not for sure. But I think Baron Fentington had something to do with it.”
“Word at the club is that Fentington has slipped over the edge,” Germaine said, walking through the room to stand with Wedgewood and Carmody. “But I had no idea he’d become so desperate. Being ostracized by society probably did it. He undoubtedly blames you. But what did he expect? Who in their right mind would send him an invitation after you brought his deviant behavior into the open at Pendleton’s ball?”
“I’m afraid you made a dangerous enemy, Raeborn,” Wedgewood said.
Vincent clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to go out yet tonight and find Fentington. Instead he forced himself to remain calm. “I need your help,” he announced to his cousin and two brothers-in-law.
“Tell us what you want us to do,” Carmody said, and the others nodded their agreement.
“I want him. I need to find out where he’s gone.”
“He’s obviously here in London,” Wedgewood said, walking to a sideboard and filling a glass with brandy. He handed the glass to Vincent. “Someone has to have seen him recently. Someone other than Pinky.”
Carmody sipped his brandy as he paced the room. “If I were you, I’d send someone to watch his estate in the country. He has to know you’re looking for him now and he’ll want to hide.”
Vincent clutched his free hand into a tight fist. “I’ve thought of that. I’ll hire someone to go to Fentington’s country estate.”
“It has to be someone you can trust,” Germaine added. “Do you have someone in mind?”
Vincent lifted the brandy to his lips and drank. He needed the liquor to warm his insides. His blood ran cold each time he relived the accident and saw Grace stumble out into the street.
“If you don’t,” Germaine continued, “I know a man, a Mr. Percy Parker. He used to be Bow Street Runner until they went out of existence. He’s got a talent for finding people who have gone into hiding.”
Vincent sucked in a deep breath. “Can you get word to him?”
“I can.”
Vincent took a long swallow of his brandy, letting it burn as it trickled down his throat. “Good. Send for him as soon as possible.”
“The rest of us will keep our eyes open,” Wedgewood added confidently. “You have more than just yourself now, Raeborn. There’s not one of Grace’s family who doesn’t owe her a debt and won’t gladly come to your assistance.”
Vincent nodded, although the idea of having family at his side was a new experience for him. He’d always been alone. Always had to take care of any problem on his own. Now he had Grace and the family she brought with her. And, he thought with some encouragement, he had his own cousin.
“I have to go to my wife now. Let me know the minute any of you hear anything concerning Fentington.”
“We will,” they all assured him.
Vincent sent a maid to inform Lady Caroline and Lady Josalyn their husbands were ready to leave, then walked them to the door. He accepted their assurances that Fentington would be found and taken care of so he wouldn’t be a threat to Grace again.
Germaine assured him that he’d send Mr. Parker to see him immediately and Vincent thanked them for their assistance.
The minute the door closed behind them he headed for the stairs. He’d done everything he could here, and now he needed to be with Grace. He needed to hold her in his arms and make sure she was all right.
He shrugged off his jacket and pulled his shirt loose from his breeches and his cravat from around his neck, then took the steps two at a time. With each step upward, he vowed not to let Grace from his sight. Not to risk putting her in danger ever again.
It was a promise he had every intention of keeping.
Grace stood in her candlelit bedroom with a fire still glowing to keep the room warm, but for some reason, she was chilled with a bone-deep cold and couldn’t get warm.
Caroline and Josalyn were gone now but had promised to come tomorrow to make sure she was all right. Vincent would be here soon and she was glad. She needed to see him. Was desperate to feel his arms around her and his lips atop hers.
She clasped her hands over her stomach and held them there. The babe was all right. She knew he was, and she said a quick prayer of thanks to God for keeping them both safe. Then added another prayer for God to guard and protect Vincent. She didn’t want to think of something happening to him.
“You should be in bed,” his voice said from behind her.
She turned around. “I was. But I was lonely without you.”
He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He still wore his white linen shirt, but it was open around the neck and wasn’t tucked in. His hair was mussed as if he’d raked his fingers through it as he was wont to do when frustrated or angry. And the dark look of fury was still on his face.
“It was Fentington, wasn’t it?”
He hesitated. As if his first thought was to lie to her. On a heavy sigh he decided it was useless, that she wouldn’t give up until she got the truth out of him. “I don’t know, but I think so.”
“Oh, Vincent. I thought after we married he’d leave us alone. I thought he’d realize he had nothing to gain.”
“Evidently not.”
“Maybe we should go to the country.”
He shook his head. “Running won’t help. We can’t spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”
A dead weight pressed against her heart. He would go after Fentington, and there was no way she could stop him. Vincent didn’t have a choice. Left unchecked, Fentington wouldn’t stop until one or both of them were dead.
Grace clasped her hands around her middle to keep from shaking and blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling. She was so afraid. More afraid now than ever. And not for herself. But for Vincent. For the babe she was going to have. A babe who might grow up without knowing his father.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, tears she’d shed in abundance since she’d begun this nine-month ordeal.
