by Aubrey Wynne
The girl had been willing, tasted of honey, with hands that knew how to please a man. But when she began to stroke him, Grace’s face appeared. Her sweet smile, those luminous emerald eyes, that slender body that would fit his like a puzzle piece. The rest of the night had been a disaster. The lightskirt had apologized, not understanding his change of mind. He’d sent her off with a handful of coins, went on the cut, and got foxed. Thank god for Weston. He didn’t remember how he got home, vaguely remembered Andrew guiding him down the club’s back stairs.
The door opened and she was there, the sun shooting streaks of fire through her chestnut curls. “Lady Grace,” he bowed, cringing at the crack in his voice. Not a good beginning.
“Good day, Lord Sunderland. What an unexpected surprise.”
She sounded breathless. He felt his body stir. When she licked her lips, he almost came undone. “It seems I own a castle nearby, and the estate manager has decided to retire.”
“Oh, the haunted castle, yes. So you’ve been there?” She smiled and sat in a chair by the window. “Won’t you take a seat?”
He lifted his tails and settled across from her. “As in ghosts? And no, I came here first.”
“Yes. There are half a dozen legends about the place. I remember walking past it once with my governess. Such eerie sounds came from the place. As a girl, I was petrified. Now, I’m sure it was only the wind.” She grinned. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, I… Well, I…” He closed his eyes. You can charge into a battle, outnumbered two to one, and you can’t say three little words to this woman. He opened his eyes, determined to maintain his dignity, when Sammy burst into the room.
“Sunderland, you came to see me. I knew you’d miss us. I told Gracie.” He skidded to a stop, wrinkling the Axminster carpet beneath his boots. The boy stomped his feet and smoothed out the rug. He also noted that the housekeeper was hovering in a far corner. Good, they couldn’t be accused of anything inappropriate. “Will you stay for dinner?”
“Sammy, it’s not your place to invite Lord Sunderland. I’m sure he has business to attend at his castle.” She tilted her head and gave her brother some type of look that Kit didn’t recognize and the boy ignored.
“Papa will ask him anyway. It’s only polite.” He moved between Grace’s knees and leaned back against her. “How is your father? Is his leg fixed?”
“He’s making an excellent recovery. I thank you for asking.”
“You have to stay because I have so many things to show you. The lake, my pony, the swing Papa put up in the oak tree.” He paused. “The haunted castle?”
The maid entered with the tea at that moment. Sammy hopped up and down beside her, trying to see which biscuits had been set out. Grace scolded him again. “I am sorry, my lord, he is quite active today.”
She poured the tea, an image of aristocratic grace, and he wished they were alone. He needed privacy, and the words he’d practiced were for her ears only. As he reached for the cup, Sammy leapt over his arm to snatch a biscuit. The tea crashed to the floor, splattering across the boy’s shirt and the carpet.
“Samuel! Where are your manners?” Grace took the biscuit from him, her lips pressed together. “Mrs. Woolley?”
“I’ve got him, my lady.” The housekeeper took Samuel by the hand and led him from the room. “And I’ll send the maid in to clean up the mess.”
Kit looked at the frustration in Grace’s eyes. “Well, we aren’t off to a good start, are we?” He laughed. His nerves. The tension was gone. “Shall we stay here alone without a chaperone? Or take a walk on the lawn with several fellows clipping and at attention?”
Grace giggled. “I choose the walk.”
Kit rose and followed her to the door. As they walked along the front of the mansion, Kit folded his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid we left things rather unsettled at Falsbury. I was disappointed to find you had gone.”
She nodded. “We stayed as long as possible but Papa had appointments he could not postpone. You know, he was only planning on staying a week?”
“Really? What changed his mind?”
“The company, I presume. He said he hadn’t enjoyed himself so much since my mother died.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. “Thank you. It was a generous invitation. We all had a lovely visit.”
“Will you come to London?” He noticed her hesitate at the question. “Lady Eliza will be disappointed if you are not there for the birth of her child.”
“Oh, yes. We are planning to come late November since she is due in early December. It was arranged with your mother before we left.” Grace smiled at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “In fact, we convinced Eliza to allow Lady Falsbury to secure the services of Sir William Knighton.”
“The physician who specializes in childbirth?” Kit knew the man had attended members of the royal family. He would cost no small commission. The fact his mother was so involved in the birth of her grandchild, and taking on the cost, told him how much she cared for Eliza.
“Will you return to the military if she has a boy?” Grace asked, her head turned toward the men. “My father said it was your preference.”
“It was.”
“Was? Has something changed?”
“You came along, my lady.” He stopped, admiring her profile as she continued for a few steps. Realizing he was no longer beside her, she paused. “I believe we need to continue the conversation we began at Falsbury. I’m afraid I made a mull of it.”
“Oh no! It was my fault. An unreasonable mistrust that made me run rather than speak my mind. It’s not characteristic of me, I assure you.” She held her head up, her chin out. “I am not a coward by nature.”
“I don’t think anything of the kind. Lady Grace, I am not a man who would appreciate leg-shackles in marriage. In turn, I would not attach them to my wife. You fear that marriage will put you under a man’s thumb.”
She nodded, an embarrassed smile curling her plump lips.
“We have talked about your upbringing with an independent mother and a tolerant father. I commend you on the raising of your brother thus far. My mother is not one to stifle her opinions so I am not accustomed to a meek or silly woman.”
Lady Grace shook her head. “It was the kiss… I’d never experienced such feelings. My resolve melted away, and I was afraid.”
“Of me? Of us?” His pulse beat in his neck. It was time to tread softly regardless of the ardor turning him rigid.
“I am afraid of leaving my family.” Her eyes held his, a steady but pleading gaze.
“Of course you are. How could you not? You have been companion, daughter, mother, and sister for five years. Most women would never have given up so much for their family. But I would not choose such a female to be my wife.”
Her chest rose and fell, the cream lace tracing her bosom, the movement sending ripples down the deep blue muslin. “What are you saying?”
Kit put his finger under her chin and lifted her face, careful to keep the other hand behind his back. He didn’t trust himself at this moment. “I love you. I have not had a moment’s peace since you left. No, since we met on the hill overlooking Falsbury. You invaded my soul that day. And the weeks after, you unlocked my heart. Tell me I have not been misguided in my affection.” He had laid bare his soul. It was his ace in the hand.
“Lord Sunderland, I am a silly rattleplate. I ran from you that day because I realized how much I cared for you. During the play, so close to you, my body understood my feelings before I did.” She clasped her hands together. “I am not as sophisticated as the ladies in your circle. My place has always been here at Boldon. The ways of courting and flirtation are foreign to me. But I have listened to my heart, and it spoke to me after your kiss.”
“And what does your heart tell you?”
“You are a fine man, and any woman would be fortunate to have your affection.”
He let out a breath. “I want to marry you. I want to love you. I want t
o love you until you are breathless and swoon from it. If I don’t kiss you soon, I am certain I will die from it.”
Her eyes glittered and an impish smile slanted across her face. “We mustn’t have that.”
Oh, she was tempting. He wanted to crush her to him and devour her mouth, taste her, inhale her. He blew out another breath instead and chuckled. “You are a vixen, Lady Grace.”
He bent and lightly brushed his lips across hers. She shivered under his touch. He smiled as he stepped back.
“And you are a rake, Lord Sunderland.” The humor faded from her eyes. “I love you, but I don’t know if I can leave Boldon, my father and brother. What if I am miserable? What if I make you unhappy? What if I disappoint you—”
His mouth came down on hers again, more demanding this time to silence her doubts. He buried his fingers in her hair, the strands like silk against his calloused skin. Her palms rested on his chest, her body curving against him.
The men on the lawn cheered. Grace covered her face with her hands, hiding the blush he knew spread over her cheeks. She ducked her head, her chest heaving.
“I apologize, my lady, but this is what you have driven me to.” Her dazed expression, the swollen lips gripped him with a passion he’d only known before battle. He understood now why a man would allow his wife to follow him in war. “The only way you could disappoint me is to say no. Lady Grace, make me the happiest of men and be my wife.”
She lifted her head, her mouth still parted. Her tongue ran across her top lip and she took a deep breath. “Yes, but—”He put a finger to her lips.
“I have taken your concerns into consideration.” He grinned as he threw her own words back at her. “And I have a plan.”
Chapter 15
“Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.”
Sophocles
Late November 1815
London, England
“That was demmed fast. I knew you were interested in her, but didn’t realize… By God, we just gave you a key a few months ago.” Weston slapped him on the back. “To most men I would offer my sympathy, but this chit had you back to your old self before summer had gone. “
Kit grinned. “Lord Boldon arrives at his townhouse later this week. You’ll meet her then. She’s coming for the birth of my niece or nephew.”
“So the plans are all in order?”
“Yes, nothing has changed. Falsbury prefers I don’t return to my military career. If it’s a boy, he wants me to assume guardianship. Says he’s too old to worry about another youngster. Regardless of the outcome, we will reside at Sunderland Castle. If I want to spend any time with my wife, we need to live near her family estate.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The grounds need major repairs. I’ve managed to make one wing livable, so we can reside there while renovations are underway.”
“We’ll need to kick over the traces at the Wicked Earls’ Club before you sign the marriage contract.”
“Several times, I hope. The company and gaming are excellent there, but I won’t need any more doxies in my room.”
“I promise it will be a bit more tame than Carson’s excursions.”
A silence settled between them, each lost in a memory.
Grace checked her reflection for the third time before joining her father at the door. In less than an hour, she would see Kit and Eliza again. She had not seen her cousin since late September. Papa had been invited to hunt partridge at Lady Rafferton’s estate, and they had stayed at Falsbury for the week. Kit had been busy getting Sunderland Castle habitable again, so he had split his time between inspecting various properties with his father, working on the crumbling castle, and London. Still, it had been a month since her heart had raced when he entered a room.
She pulled a ringlet in front of her ear, adjusted the wide green ribbon in her hair, and smoothed out the velvet of her emerald green dress. Two bands of deep purple, embroidered with gold thread in Celtic swirls, ran down each side of her skirt. A matching embroidered ribbon wrapped around her waist. Yanking her gloves up to her elbows, she smiled at herself and pinched her cheeks. Oh gracious, she thought, he loves as you are, stop fussing. As she descended the stairs, her purple slippers peeked out from the hem.
“You are a beauty, my dear,” her father said, beaming. “This will be a grand visit.”
“I only wish Sammy was here with us.” She hated the whine in her voice.
“We discussed this. You must adapt to his absence. We shall only be gone a week or two until the babe arrives.” He patted her shoulder with a chuckle. “This too, we shall survive.”
“I know, Papa. It’s my first time away from him, that’s all.” Stretching on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I will be happy to see Eliza and concentrate on that.”
“Only Eliza?” His bushy brows rose. “Someone else may have been on your mind when you dressed tonight. A new gown?”
She bit her lip. “Yes, but I—”
“No need to explain. You rarely spend a coin on yourself.” He kissed her back on the top of her head.
The carriage pulled up to the front steps. The lady’s maid helped her on with the golden brown pelisse; the plush fox of the collar and cuffs feathered her skin as she drew it around her. Grace tucked her reticule inside the large fur muff then took her father’s elbow. The ride to the Falsbury townhouse was short. The street lamps had already been lit, and snow had begun to fall. In the glow of oil lights, snowflakes danced and twisted to the ground, covering the grime of the city in a pristine white blanket.
“Are you warm enough, my dear?”
“Oh, yes Papa.” She rubbed her feet against the hot wrapped bricks. “Did you know Eliza plans to stay with Lady Falsbury regardless if she has a boy or girl?”
He nodded. “Strange how things have worked out. The marchioness has become more of a maternal figure to the girl than her own mother. Not that I blame your aunt in any way. She is a victim of circumstance.”
Grace said a silent prayer for all women in such circumstances. The carriage rolled onto the crescent, and stopped at the center residence of the terrace. The arc-shaped row of townhouses was lit with fan lights over each door. Falsbury’s lamp illuminated the white pilasters flanking either side of the entrance and the pineapple frieze above the door that welcomed visitors. It stood four stories tall, miniature wrought-iron balconies adorning the middle rows of windows. In the summer, the attached flower boxes would hold summer blooms.
The butler ushered them in and soon they were in the drawing room. Eliza tried to bound from the chair, fell back, and pushed herself forward again. Sunderland was at her elbow in a moment, escorting her across the room.
Grace met them in the middle, her arms going around her cousin but her eyes on Kit. The wings in her stomach awoke, provoked by the warm, secret smile he sent her way. The smile that said I’ve missed you. I long to hold you in my arms.
“Gracie, it’s so good to see you,” cried Eliza, wiping at her eyes then laughing at her look of concern. “Don’t mind me. I seem to burst into tears these days over trifles. Doesn’t matter if I’m happy, angry, sad, or just bored.”
“I was worse off than you,” chimed in Lady Falsbury with a flap of hand, dismissing her daughter-in-law’s outburst. Kit’s mother was glowing in a print of dusty rose with scalloped lace at the throat and sleeves. “Don’t go trotting too much, my dear. We don’t want that baby coming early.”
Kit bowed low over Grace’s hand, winking at her as his lips lingered on her gloved hand. Her pulse quickened in anticipation of a stolen moment later in the evening. They were engaged after all and Eliza had assured her no outsiders had been invited.
At dinner, Kit threw protocol to the wind and sat next to his fiancée. It had been over a month, and if he couldn’t pull her off to a dark corner, he would at least sit beside her. The women had talked incessantly of the upcoming birth. He’d learned more than he needed to know about Sir William Knighton, the accoucheur attending the birth, the month
ly nurse now in residence, the “lowering” diet Eliza was on that restricted the intake alcohol, tea or coffee, and the birthing room. Finally, the meal would provide alternative subjects.
“Have you been to Tattersall’s of late, Sunderland?” asked Boldon, a twinkle in his brown eyes. “I’m considering breeding my best carriage horse. I’ll need to replace her if I do. Would you like to take a look at the stock tomorrow?”
“Could we discuss something other than procreation?” Kit gave him a sullen side-glance and was rewarded with a hearty chuckle.
“I’m just kicking up a lark,” he replied with good humor. “We’ll have our port soon enough and the ladies may continue their delicate talk.”
“I haven’t heard a delicate word since they began,” he mumbled under his breath. It must have been loud enough for Grace to hear because she pinched him under the table. “Ouch! You’ll pay for that,” he warned in a loud whisper. She giggled and her scent of vanilla and…orange filled his nose. When desire stirred his loins, he reluctantly went back to thoughts of the accoucheur.
The subject of Christmas and social events vied with pregnancy the rest of the meal. He noted Eliza looked pale this evening. Even though his mother had reminded her meat and rich dishes should be avoided this late in her pregnancy, but fish was an excellent choice. She had only sipped at the white soup and partaken in none of the corner dishes of fish. Are all women so preoccupied with such details? he wondered. A plan to ban his mother and Eliza from Sunderland Castle during Grace’s confinement began to form.
The remove dishes were replaced and the second course began. He served himself and Grace a portion of roasted filet of pork and lamb chop sautéed with asparagus and peas.
“I will excuse myself just before you retire to the drawing room. Find a reason to delay, so you leave the dining room alone,” he said quietly, sticking his fork into a chunk of pork covered in a rich brown sauce. He moved his knee and brushed the velvet of her dress, watching Grace’s eyes widen and press her lips together.
