He gulped down his sorrow and made a vow that he’d prove himself worthy. He’d win back her love, find the villainess, and keep Portia and his friends safe.
He bolted upright, and despite his state of undress, he began packing. He’d go to Henslowe Court and prove to her that he loved her more than life itself. He would have to convince her that this wasn’t about his honor and duty; he wasn’t sure how he’d achieve this, but he would.
Hadley could stay here and wait for information from Angelo. He couldn’t think about the price Angelo would demand. He’d worry about that when it happened. All he had to focus on was earning Portia’s love and trust.
Just then the door to his room opened and Timmins, his valet, entered.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but I heard the noise and thought you may have need of me after all.”
“Thank you, Timmins. I have decided to leave for Henslowe Court, Lord Markham’s estate in Dorset, immediately.”
The look on his valet’s face was full of unanswered questions, but Grayson merely stared at him until Timmins said, “How can I help?”
“You can pack a couple of shirts and pants into a saddlebag while I dash off a note for Jeeves to deliver to Hadley in the morning. I don’t wish to wake him now. Then tomorrow you could trunk up enough clothes for a prolonged stay at Henslowe Court and accompany it down to Dorset in my best coach.”
“How long will we be there, and what sorts of entertainments will you be attending?”
Grayson rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think there will be anything grand. We are still targets of our villainess”—Grayson had informed his staff of the situation upon his arrival back in London, so that they would be on alert—“and of course Lady Markham is nearing term.” He wouldn’t assume a wedding; he had to win Portia back first.
He sat at the small writing table in his room while Timmins packed his bags, then slipped out to wake one of the grooms to saddle his chestnut stallion, Helios. He wrote a note to Hadley informing him of Grayson’s decision to go directly to Henslowe Court and asking him to stay in London until word was received from Angelo. Only then did he remember that there had been a second note left on his pillow. He picked it up, but in his wish to leave immediately he decided to read it later and folded it into his jacket pocket. He didn’t send a note to Christian; he didn’t want Portia forewarned in case it sent her fleeing from the safe haven of Christian’s estate. He’d surprise them.
Once mounted on Helios, Grayson made his way through the London streets as dawn approached. He had a long ride ahead of him, but it would give him time to contemplate exactly how he’d win Portia back.
A little niggle kept telling him it might be too late. But surely, if she really loved him, she could forgive him, could she not? He knew in that instant that he’d forgive her anything. He’d been so worried that with her modern ways she’d bring disgrace upon his family name, and yet he was the one who had disgraced the Blackwood name through his cowardice. There was no scandal or societal boundary she could cross that would make him think less of her. He was such a fool to think anyone else’s opinion mattered.
Two days later, Grayson’s nerves started to get the better of him as he made his way up the drive to Henslowe Court. He was as nervous as a schoolboy facing a caning. One of the grooms came out to meet him as he came to a halt before the grand entrance to Christian’s imposing sandstone manor house, and he spent some time with the groom giving instructions on how Helios was to be treated. The horse had had a long journey, just as he had, and was tired too.
Grayson followed the groom to the stables, and as they approached the rear of the property, he heard the sounds of laughter and talk coming from the back garden, which he knew was off the drawing room. After seeing to Helios’s needs he warily made his way around the outside of the house and into the enclosed garden at the rear of the property.
He knew he should go and change, making himself presentable, before seeing Portia. However, he just couldn’t wait. He had so many feelings swamping his body that he just wanted to see her.
As he drew closer he could see a game of pall-mall was being played on the huge manicured lawn. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the sight of Portia. She was laughing and seemed to be tussling with Maitland. Maitland was holding the wooden ball high above his head, and Portia was trying to get it off him, trying to drag his arm down so that she could retrieve the ball. There was a lot of shouting and merriment going on, and the look of happiness and joy on Portia’s face stopped his heart.
It was only then that he looked at Maitland’s face, and what he saw made his blood boil in his veins. The way Maitland was looking at her was not the look of a friend. When he saw Maitland’s arm snake around Portia’s waist, holding her close to him, all the blood seemed to flee from his brain and anger erupted. Never in his life had he wanted to kill a man as much as he wanted to kill Maitland upon seeing him with his hands on Portia. He wanted to grab one of the mallets lying on the ground and smash the look of infatuation from Maitland’s handsome face.
He must have made a sound, a growl low in his throat, because all of a sudden there was silence and several pairs of eyes were looking at him. The silence seemed to grow and grow and grow, cumulating in Maitland releasing Portia and stepping away from her.
Portia swung around to look at him, and her smile died. It killed Grayson to know that she wasn’t overjoyed to see him.
It was Lily who broke the awkward silence. She squealed, “Lord Blackwood, I knew you’d come once you read my letter!” and ran to embrace him.
So the unread letter folded in his pocket was from Lily. He wondered what it would say when he did read it later in his room. Right now all he wanted was to kill Maitland. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He’d given Portia no cause to believe that he’d be jealous or even care. He’d deserted her in a time of need, and he’d live with his remorse for his actions for the rest of his life. The consuming jealousy he felt was an emotion new to him, and one that turned his world black.
Finally Christian found his voice. “Welcome, Grayson. I’ll have one of the servants show you to a room. You must have had a hard ride, and perhaps you should freshen up. You are looking a bit dusty.”
Grayson couldn’t drag his eyes away from Maitland. The two of them stood staring at each other, neither wishing to be the first to look away.
Still looking at Maitland, he responded to Christian, “I’d like a word with His Grace first, if you don’t mind,” and he inclined his head toward the woods at the edge of the lawn, signaling to Maitland that they should take a stroll. How he was going to stop himself from picking up one of the mallets on the way and beating Maitland to a pulp, he didn’t know.
Maitland cleared his throat. “Nice to see you, Grayson. I’d be happy to take a stroll.” Maitland’s words were flat, his tone normal, but then he wasn’t called “the cold duke” for nothing.
Portia stood looking between the two men, understanding the current between them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He ignored Portia completely. “Maitland, shall we?”
Serena rose, moved across the lawn to Portia, and took her by the arm. “Perhaps you’ll come and help me for a minute, Portia. I really need your advice on the crib that Christian had delivered from London. I want to know what you think of it, as it looks a tad too small.” The two women walked arm in arm back toward the house, Portia looking over her shoulder anxiously.
Christian rose and looked at the two men. “I hope I’m not going to have to come out and mop up the blood. Try to remember you’re gentlemen.” When neither man replied, he sighed and turned to Sebastian. “Care for a game of billiards?” Sebastian nodded, rising to follow the women into the house. Christian looked at Arend as if to say, Watch them. “I’ll leave you two to sort it out, then.”
Arend hadn’t said anything. Grayson looked at him. “You have no comment?”
He merely shrugged. “I knew this was comi
ng. It is your own fault, Grayson. You should have put a stop to this when you returned from Calais.” He too rose to follow Christian. “But you opened the door to the idea, and then you left.”
Soon it was just Grayson and Maitland staring at each other across the lawn. Grayson started to walk toward the woods, and Maitland followed in silence.
No sooner had they entered the woods than Grayson turned on Maitland and punched him in the face. “I know I shouldn’t have left, and my behavior is appalling, but you were overstepping the boundaries of friendship.”
The punch sent Maitland careening backward and a strong curse issued from his mouth. “Bloody hell, Grayson. I was simply trying to cheer her up.”
“Bollocks.”
Maitland looked at Grayson, then glanced away. “Well, maybe I did deserve that. But it is not what you think. Portia and I are merely friends.”
His friend’s lack of formality rankled. “Lady Portia, don’t you mean?” Grayson snarled, and took another swing at him. Maitland was quicker this time and ducked, then threw a punch back at Grayson that caught him under the chin and sent Grayson tumbling backward.
He sat on the ground staring at his so-called friend. “I saw the way you were looking at her, Maitland. That’s not the look of a friend.”
“What look? What are you so riled up for? You made it perfectly clear by your actions that you did not want her. I find I like the idea of marriage. The solution seemed logical. I get a beautiful wife and save a damsel’s reputation. I didn’t think you’d care.”
Just like that, all the anger left Grayson. “I love her.”
“Well, that is interesting. When did you have this epiphany? Before or after you left her bedside as she lay ill? Or when you didn’t even return to see her once she was well? Love, you say? Do you even know the meaning of the word?”
“Sod off. The only person I need to apologize to is Portia. Besides, I didn’t think you believed in love.”
“I don’t, but Portia does, and she needs a man to love her. I know I can’t be that man.”
“Well, I can. I love her.” He dragged himself to his feet and brushed the dirt from his breeches. “I was so scared of loving her…. I’ve lost too many people I love, and it hurts like hell. I was a coward, trying to protect myself in case she died. The irony is that I lost her anyway.”
“I don’t think you have lost her yet. She still loves you, because she made it perfectly clear that she is not looking for a husband. Typical female—illogical, especially given her situation.” He held out his hand to Grayson for him to shake. “It seemed like she needed a friend. Having the friendship and support of a duke can only help her cause, given the scandal she’s embroiled in, and especially since she’s chosen not to wed.”
That was a low blow.
“As far as I’m concerned, the marriage isn’t off. I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back.”
“I’d suggest honesty coupled with a lot of groveling.”
Grayson’s head rose at Maitland’s words. “Whatever it takes.”
“If that’s the case, you had best stop acting like an idiot and go tidy yourself up. Then find her and reveal what’s in your heart. She asked for you as soon as she awoke. Your leaving was badly done, Grayson.” He looked at Grayson in disgust. “You hurt her deeply.”
“I know. I panicked, I’ll admit it.” Grayson paused for a moment. “But I also did want to find out who had hurt her, and now I have a really good lead. So my time was not wasted. When I catch the bitch who hurt Portia, I’d like to kill her with my own bare hands.”
“I look forward to hearing what you have uncovered. However, we should return inside so we can show the others that there’s been no harm done. Fighting between us is not going to win back Portia. Females don’t seem to like it when men fight over them. Apparently it makes them feel like possessions.”
Grayson wiped away the blood that was trickling from his lip. “I forgot how good a punch you throw.” He sighed. “I just want a chance, Maitland. I don’t want you interfering and confusing her.”
“She loves you more than life itself. How can you possibly think I have any say in this?” Maitland replied. “Like I said, I only thought to step in because it all fitted together well. Come, let us reenter the house. Go and wash up, then come to the billiard room and tell us what you and Hadley have been up to in London.” He clapped Grayson on the back. “Have a good night’s sleep and woo Portia tomorrow. She is going to need time to calm down from the display you just gave. In case you didn’t notice, she was not happy with you.”
The two men turned and trudged out of the woods. As Grayson expected, Christian was standing at the top of the stairs looking out for them. Even at that distance they could see his shoulders relax when he spied them. Christian had had every right to be concerned, Grayson conceded; when he went into the trees with Maitland he’d been so angry he hadn’t known what he was going to do. But Maitland was right as well. He had lost any right to think of Portia as his the minute he left her. She’d had to face her fate on her own.
He had a lot of ground to make up, and he intended to start straightaway, regardless of what Maitland suggested. There was no time like the present to begin seeking forgiveness.
Chapter 18
Portia paced Serena’s private drawing room off the marchioness’s bedchamber. There was no way Grayson could find her here.
Grayson! She was still in shock—shock that he’d come without letting anyone know, and shock at his response to an innocent game of pall-mall. She could not get the look on Grayson’s face out of her mind. When he’d seen her in Maitland’s arms it was like looking into the face of a madman.
She hoped the two men weren’t hurting each other. Hell, she hoped they weren’t killing each other. This was her fault. Back in Deal she should never have tried to make Grayson jealous by suggesting Maitland as an alternative, as she had no feelings other than friendship for the duke.
She was confused about what Grayson’s reaction meant. Her heart couldn’t help but think it was jealousy because he loved her, but she was too worldly not to understand that possessiveness or honor could be a driver of his anger. Regardless, she was not a possession for him to fight over, nor did she require a debt of honor. The scandalous situation she found herself in was partly of her own making, because she had agreed to meet him at midnight in the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.
The door to the room opened, and she turned with a wan smile, expecting Serena. Seeing Grayson there instead caught her completely by surprise, and her heart flipped in her chest.
Grayson’s lip was bloodied, and a huge red mark showed upon his chin where a nice bruise was quickly forming. He looked impossibly handsome and abashed … and angry. What had he to be angry over? She knew he had demons to face, but he’d hurt her so much by leaving when she was ill.
“May I enter?”
At least he asked. She held back a curt Why are you here? and motioned for him to enter. She would try to behave like a grown-up. “I did not expect you back in Dorset so soon. Do you have news of DePalma?”
He strolled directly toward her and stood in front of her, staring at her face. The silence dragged on, making her skin prickle. He watched her as if she were the only thing in the world he desired, but she knew that was a lie.
“I’m sorry.” His soft words, full of sorrow, were accompanied by his finger tenderly stroking her cheek.
She took a step back, turning her head away from the touch that could make her forget why she was angry with him. “For what are you apologizing? For not being here when I woke up, or for writing me a curt letter upon hearing I was well, or for not returning to see me as soon as you learned of my recovery, or for being a cad and turning up here when you know how hard it is for me to see you?” She couldn’t stop the prickle of tears forming, but she blinked them back, refusing to let him see her cry. She’d cried enough tears over him.
He had the grace to look ashamed. “For everything you just l
isted. For not staying here until you were healed, for being a coward and using the excuse of finding our villainess so I could leave, but most of all for letting you down and hurting you.”
His words took the sting out of her anger. She searched for some reply that would appease her rage and hurt, but she was flustered. This was not what she had expected. She thought he’d be accusing, spouting on about his honor and why she had no choice but to marry him. Perhaps he had not received her letter. “Did you receive my note?”
“Yes.” Grayson’s mouth firmed. “I deserved your censure, and I can perfectly understand why you have no wish to marry me.”
“Good,” she said, nodding. There wasn’t anything else to say. Her note had said it all.
He cleared his throat. “I should go and get cleaned up from my journey. I—I—just needed to see you.” Once again he reached out and touched her cheek, and this time she did not turn away. She wanted to lean into his palm and feel more of him. She craved the scent of him; she dreamed of his masculine fragrance each night as he ravished her again and again in her dreams. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her body ached for him.
He stepped closer on a curse. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
At his words, she opened her eyes. Not as much as I did you. She had missed him so much it hurt. “Don’t do this,” she said, her voice raw, and she put her hands up to push at his chest. But somehow she found herself engulfed in his arms.
A Touch of Passion: A Rouge Regency Romance: (Disgraced Lords #3) Page 22
