by Wolf, Bree
“No,” Grant replied, bracing himself for what lay ahead. “No, there is a further complication. I…” He gritted his teeth. “Almost a year ago, I…I remarried.”
Adrian’s gaze widened ever so slightly. “Then you need a solicitor’s help, not mine.”
“I already spoke to Mr. Thatcher,” Grant continued, “and he confirmed that my second marriage is void because without Nessa’s passing our marriage never ceased to be binding.”
“That is good news for you,” Adrian commented, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.
“It is,” Grant agreed, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “but not for my new wife.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. “She’s with child.”
Barely a muscle twitched in Adrian’s face as he watched Grant closely. “What will you do now?” he asked, renewed suspicion in his voice. “Why have you come? Speak plainly.”
Grant nodded. “Very well. I have come to ask you to…protect her…and the child.”
Adrian’s gaze narrowed. “Protect her?”
“Yes.”
Lifting his chin, Adrian’s pale blue eyes held Grant’s as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I will not marry her.”
Grant groaned as the only solution within his grasp slowly vanished into thin air. “Adrian, please. I don’t know what else to do. She’ll be ruined, and our child will be a bastard. I do not want such a fate for them.”
Leaning forward, Adrian rested his hands on the top of his desk, his eyes hard as he looked at Grant. “Why me?”
On his way to Ravengrove, Grant had listed in his mind many reasons for why he had chosen Adrian and no one else. Aside from the fact that Adrian did not fit the description of an old lecher, he had long since declared that he had no intention of marrying, of having a family of his own. When asked about his line and the title that had been in his family for generations, he had merely shrugged, not caring in the least who would inherit it. Therefore, Grant had hoped that Adrian would agree to extend his protection to Eugenie and their child so long as he would remain free to skulk in the shadows.
However, while his arguments were indeed reasonable, Grant had to admit that the true reason for choosing Adrian had come from his heart and not his head. “Because I trust you,” Grant finally said. “Because you’ve always looked out for me. Because I know they would be safe with you.”
Adrian swallowed before his gaze dropped from Grant’s as though his friend’s words pained him. He straightened and walked back over to the window, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky.
Interpreting his friend’s silence as a good sign, Grant allowed his hopes to rise. “I’m only asking you to marry her pro forma so that our child will be born in wedlock and society has no reason to shun them. You’d only have to sign your name, and they’d be forever protected by it.” Grant swallowed. “That is all I ask.” Still, he knew very well that it was indeed no small favor.
“No woman deserves to live in a tomb,” Adrian spoke into the tense silence that had fallen over the room. His gaze, however, was still directed out the window, and Grant wondered why he would not look at him. Was there, perhaps, a part of Adrian that was tempted to act valiantly again after all these years? A part of him that wanted to be needed? Was he afraid to admit that to himself?
Grant drew in a deep breath, wondering if perhaps Eugenie and their child would turn out to be a blessing for Adrian. Perhaps only an innocent child could find a way to breach the sky-high defenses Adrian had built around his heart and soul. And despite the shyness that often lingered in her eyes, Eugenie had proved herself a strong woman, strong and kind…and resilient. Perhaps, they would be good for each other.
Grant could only hope so for all three of them deserved to experience the same happiness that he sought with Nessa and Milly. Perhaps all that had happened had, indeed, happened for a reason.
“Please, Adrian,” Grant once more appealed to his friend. “I’ll speak to Mr. Thatcher and have a settlement fund set up for them to secure their futures, but that is all I can do. My hands are tied in this. As much as I wish I could, there is no more I can do for them.” Panic swept through him at the helplessness of their situation. “They deserve better than to be cast aside, but it is not within my power to protect them. All I can do is provide for them financially. However, you know as well as I do that that alone will not be enough. Unmarried, Eugenie will be ruined, and our child will be a bastard.” As his pulse thudded in his veins, Grant closed his eyes, feeling as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, about to fall at any moment. “Please, Adrian, will you do this for me? I cannot bear the thought of what will happen to them if you do not.”
Adrian’s shoulders rose and fell as he inhaled a deep breath. Then he turned around, his sharp gaze strangely softened as he looked at Grant. “I’m the Beast of Ravengrove,” he said with a dark chuckle, “what woman would willingly marry me? Have you even spoken to her about this?”
Grant shook his head. “I came to speak to you first before getting her hopes up.”
“Her hopes?” Adrian scoffed, darkness falling over his face once more.
“She’ll agree,” Grant told his friend, knowing full well that Eugenie had very little choice if she wanted to protect herself and her child. Always had she been a devoted mother to Milly, and Grant did not doubt that she would do whatever necessary to protect her own. “She might look delicate and fragile, but there’s a hidden strength in Eugenie that—”
Breaking off, Grant stared at his friend who seemed to suddenly have gone pale, staring at Grant with widened eyes. “Are you all right?” Grant asked, watching his friend as he fought to regain his composure. “Was it something I said? Was it…?” Grant frowned as his mind put the puzzle pieces together. “Do you know her?”
Adrian shook his head, and Grant could not detect falsity in his gaze. “Perhaps I know of her,” he replied, his jaw tense as though deep emotions were fighting to break free. “Is she the late Lord Pembroke’s daughter?”
Grant nodded. “She is. Did you know him?”
“Not him,” Adrian forced out through clenched teeth. “But I knew his son.”
Dimly, Grant remembered that Eugenie’s brother had died in the war and that her father had followed him to the grave only a few months later, leaving her alone in the world. Judging from the pained look on Adrian’s face, theirs had not been a mere acquaintance. No, something had happened. Something that haunted Adrian to this day.
“You knew him well,” Grant observed, wishing he had not become an outsider in his friend’s life. “Did you meet him on the Continent?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “I’ll not speak about him,” was all he said, his gaze hard, but pained nonetheless.
Grant nodded. “He must have been a good friend,” he mumbled, pained that his childhood friend would not confide in him. Still, years had passed since they’d been close, and Grant could only hope that Eugenie’s brother had been there for Adrian when Grant had not.
“If she’ll agree,” Adrian said, “I will marry her, and you have my word that I’ll do everything within my power to see them safe.” For a short moment, the once proud soldier stood before Grant, who had believed in protecting others and fighting for a valiant cause. However, that soldier was quickly replaced by the guilt-ridden recluse, who did not dare leave the boundaries of his estate.
“Thank you,” Grant replied, feeling a heavy burden lifted off his shoulders. He knew he was selfish to simply pass on the responsibility for Eugenie and their child to his friend so that he could return to the wife he had never ceased to love. And yet, what other course of action was there? Perhaps this was, indeed, for the best. Perhaps in a year or two from now, they’d all be happy again.
Grant could only hope so. “Will you return with me to Wentford Park? I believe it would be best if the ceremony would take place as soon as possible. I’ll send Mr. Thatcher to London to procure a special l—”
“I will not
leave Ravengrove,” Adrian replied, his voice hardening with each syllable. “If she agrees to marry me, then bring her here. I’ll have the east wing readied for her.”
Finality clung to his words, and Grant knew there was no sense in arguing with him. Certainly, it might have been comforting for Eugenie to meet Adrian at Wentford Park. However, the most important part was that his friend had agreed, that he had found a champion to shoulder Eugenie’s cause and see her safe. Now, all he had to do was convince her that this was the best course of action.
In fact, that it was the only course of action.
If he made haste, he could be back at Wentford Park by nightfall. Then on the morrow, he would speak to Eugenie and call for Mr. Thatcher. All could be ready within a sennight.
And then Grant would once again travel up north and bring Nessa home.
It was about time he fought to win his wife’s heart all over again.
Chapter Ten
A Carriage Ride
The day was warm. Only a mild breeze blew and the sun shone down brightly, lighting the world and giving everything a gentle glow.
Still, Nessa’s hands trembled when she stepped out of the abbey that had been her home for the past three years.
On the small path leading down into the village and then farther out into the world, a large carriage awaited her, its polished wood glistening in the sun. The door was adorned with the Wentford coat of arms that Nessa had seen before on the seal on the letter her husband had sent to her. A finely-dressed coachman sat up front while a footman stood by the door, bowing his head to her in respect.
Uncomfortable, Nessa glanced away, wondering if she had seen this man before or if he had only recently come into her husband’s employ. While the footman merely glanced in her direction, the hint of a smile on his face, the coachman stared at her rather wide-eyed before regaining his composure and forcing his gaze back up ahead. Clearly, he had known her from before, Nessa surmised. How many more people would look at her like this? Staring at her in disbelief, certain they were seeing a ghost?
Beside Nessa, her husband stepped down onto the path, his eyes shining as he turned to look at her. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, a deeper sense of understanding in his eyes than she would have expected. Could it be that he knew how hard it was for her to say goodbye to the only past she remembered and take the first step toward him and the life he’d told her about?
“In a moment,” Nessa whispered, and then quickly turned around so that he would not see the tears that clung to her lashes. Sister Anne’s gentle smile met her, and Nessa flung herself into the young woman’s arms. “I shall miss you terribly. You’ve been such a wonderful friend to me.”
“I shall miss you as well,” Sister Anne replied, embracing Nessa warmly. “Write to me if you will, but I beg of you, do not look back.” She stepped back and looked into Nessa’s eyes. “Look to the future.” She glanced over Nessa’s shoulder. “I dare say, it looks more promising than you might think.”
Nessa inhaled a quivering breath as she saw the teasing encouragement in her friend’s eyes. Indeed, if truth be told, Nessa could all but feel her husband standing a few paces behind her. Ever since he had returned an hour ago, she had been acutely aware of him, of the way his gaze slid over her when he thought she wasn’t looking, of the way he sometimes seemed to want to reach for her and then stopped himself in the last moment, of the sheer joy that came to his eyes whenever their gazes met.
He truly loved her, didn’t he?
At least, he seemed to have loved the Nessa he remembered. But would he be able to love her, the woman she had become, for the sake of the woman he had known?
Nessa had to admit that a part of her was hoping that he could. What would it be like to be loved by such a man?
“Go,” Sister Anne whispered, “and trust in yourself. Trust that you’ll be able to tell friend from foe, sincerity from lies.”
Nessa nodded, frantically blinking back the fresh tears that threatened, before she hugged her friend one last time and then turned to look at her husband.
Flecks of gold danced in his moss-green eyes as he smiled at her. “Shall we?” he asked and held out his hand to her. A touch of a dare shone in his eyes, and Nessa found herself taking an eager step toward him, a smile coming to her lips as well.
When her hand slid into his, he drew in a shuddering breath and his fingers closed over hers in a gentle, and yet, determined way. His gaze held hers before he took a step closer, his head leaning toward hers in confidence. “I don’t mean to shock you,” he whispered, a teasing gleam in his eyes that Nessa found utterly endearing, “but I feel I must tell you…”
Looking into his eyes, Nessa held her breath. “Yes?”
“…that there is dirt under your fingernails.” A large grin came to his face.
For a split second, Nessa knew not what to make of him before her body responded in a way that felt familiar. Laughing, she shook her head. “I admit I expected more from you, my lord. Would you consider it good manners to embarrass a—?” Swallowing, Nessa broke off.
“A lady,” her husband finished for her as his hand squeezed hers tenderly. “My lady.”
It was a simple statement, a simple fact. She was his wife, the Countess of Wentford, and thus a lady. And yet, the way he said those two simple words sent a shiver down Nessa’s back and the hand that rested in his began to tingle in a most unsettling way.
He knew her. He knew her well. Not only her past. Not only mere facts, but…much more than that. He had known how she would react, had he not? He had known to set her at ease by teasing her in such a manner. He knew more about her than she knew herself, and that was truly unsettling.
Taking a steadying breath, Nessa glanced toward the carriage. “Shall we?” she asked, hoping to divert his attention from her response to his intimate knowledge of her.
Casting her a quick smile, her husband gave a quick farewell to the abbess and Sister Anne before he led Nessa the few steps to the carriage, helping her inside. The moment she set foot in the carriage, Nessa tried to release his hand and found that his own wasn’t quite ready yet. It held on to hers for another moment or two before reluctantly letting go.
Fortunately, he seated himself across from her, giving Nessa the chance to regain her composure as difficult as it was. After all, to her, it felt as though she were embarking on a journey with a stranger…and without a chaperone. And yet, she knew she was his wife, which meant there was no need for a chaperone. Still, her heart urged her to be cautious of men who looked at her like her husband did.
Huffing out a long breath, Nessa closed her eyes, wishing her heart and mind would walk hand in hand and not add to her confusion.
The carriage set into motion, and Nessa willed herself not to look out the window and see the abbey disappear. No, she’d already said her goodbyes, and she would not do so again. She could not. Now, she needed to focus on what lay ahead. Had she not just so promised Sister Anne?
“Are you all right?”
The concern in his voice immediately pacified her. When she opened her eyes, Nessa found his fixed on hers. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I…I’m fine.”
“What did you want to say?” he pressed, a good-natured smile on his face as he sat back.
Watching him, Nessa wondered how much she ought to say and what to hold back. What had their relationship been like? Had they truly shared everything with each other? Or was that simply something people wanted to believe?
“Try me, Nessa,” he urged. “I promise I won’t run or bite,” his brows wriggled mockingly, “or…”
“Or be disappointed?” Nessa asked, torn between the need to be honest and the need to feel at peace, to be safe. What if he got angry? Who could she turn to?
Slowly, the glow in his eyes dimmed and he inhaled a deep breath. “I know I’m a stranger to you,” he whispered, “and I admit freely that I…I hate that you don’t remember me.” He swallowed, and she could see a soul-crushing
sadness come to his eyes. “I know I need to be patient and not pressure you, and yet, I want nothing more but…” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Still, the look in his eyes told Nessa all she needed to know. Her pulse hitched higher, and yet, there was no fear. “I thank you for your honesty, my lord. I—”
“Grant,” he interrupted. “I’ve always called you Nessa, and you’ve always called me Grant. If you don’t mind.”
Watching him intently, Nessa asked, “Would you want me to?”
He nodded, and she could see how true that was. Indeed, he seemed to hold nothing back, trusting her with his own fears and desires, and it helped her feel more at ease.
“Grant, then,” she whispered, feeling a slight nervousness at saying his given name. Still, the charming smile that came to his face upon hearing it fall from her lips more than made up for her initial discomfort.
“Well, then, Nessa,” he said with exaggerated emphasis, “what is on your mind?”
A chuckle escaped her lips, and she rolled her eyes at his rather childish behavior. Still, it was utterly freeing. “If you insist, I—” A frown drew down her brows when she saw the way he suddenly closed his eyes as though savoring a moment overwhelmingly dear to him. “What is it? What did I say?”
Smiling, he met her gaze. “It’s not what you said. It’s the way you just rolled your eyes at me.”
“Indeed?” Nessa frowned. “Granted, I know very little about the world, but I always thought people rather disliked a reaction like that.”
He sighed, and all humor left his eyes, replaced by a deep longing. “You always used to roll your eyes at me,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion, “and I never thought I’d ever see it again. It’s such a little thing, but,” he shrugged, “I suppose in the end it’s all those little things that you miss once they’re gone.”
Nessa drew in a careful breath, not knowing what to say.
