A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle
Page 38
“Oh, I daresay I might like her.”
He cocked a brow in her direction. “You might? Are you inclined to scandal?” Her cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink again.
“Well, no. I’m not. I mean, I don’t wish to be.” Her eyebrows scrunched together.
What a very odd sentiment. She does not wish to be inclined to scandal. Lady Grace grew more intriguing by the moment.
“I mean that Lady Charlotte sounds very interesting to me because she has something she is passionate about.”
He could almost see the thoughts racing in her eyes.
“I should think I would quite like her.” Lady Grace nodded after a moment, a very forceful, made-up-her-mind sort of nod.
“I think you would as well,” Alex murmured. “Perhaps someday you will meet her and become friends.”
They walked in silence for a stretch along the wilderness walk, amongst the trees and a pond, and an abundance of flowers. It was not uncomfortable, rather companionable. But the end of the walk drew close.
“I am afraid we’ll be forced to turn back now, Lady Grace.”
She slowed and glanced ahead of them. “My lord, what is that, up by the hill?” She stretched onto her tiptoes and pointed off to the horizon.
“Oh, that’s my brother’s estate, Somerton Court. You can almost see the main house from here, though it is still a good way off.”
Her eyes squinted in concentration. “The duke? Peter?”
“Yes, Peter. His property borders Lord Rotheby’s property. We all spent a good deal of time tromping through his fields as children, and otherwise getting into things we ought not to have done.”
They looked for a few more minutes, and then she sighed. Turning to head back with him, she took a single wistful glance over her shoulder.
“Well, we spent the entire walk out discussing my family. Will you tell me about yours?” Apprehension flickered through her eyes. He rushed on. “Do you have any siblings?”
Her hand tensed on his elbow and the carefree look was instantly gone. “No, I have no siblings.”
He waited, but she said no more. “What about your mother? It doesn’t sound as though you are afraid of her?” Alex winked so she’d know he was teasing her. He hoped to keep her talking. Her gentleness beckoned to him and drew him closer—which he rather enjoyed, almost despite himself.
Lady Grace’s smile fell completely away from her face and her eyes returned to their cold stare. “My mother passed away many years ago.” Then she fell mute again. They walked in silence for several more minutes.
The quiet would kill him if it went on much longer. “I am very sorry, my lady. I did not realize. It seems I’ll spend the whole of the evening apologizing to you at this rate. Forgive me.” He searched for another topic, something to return the lightness to her visage.
Before he could speak, Lady Grace blurted out, “I believe I should return to my aunt and uncle. They will miss me. You must excuse me, my lord.” She abruptly removed her hand from his arm and set out toward the main house at a brisk pace.
Alex cursed beneath his breath and jogged behind her. “Lady Grace, please at least allow me to return you to your relatives. I don’t wish for them to believe I have been such a cad as to have abandoned you here on the wilderness walk.” Never mind the fact he had done far worse.
He placed a firm hand on her elbow, which slowed her pace to a more decorous walk. She continued on her way, never once deigning to look at him again. He admired her quiet reserve, almost despite himself. Alex deposited her with Sir Laurence, Lady Kensington, and Gil before taking his leave.
He needed to ride and cool off. He bloody well needed to stop thinking about this woman, a woman whom he had told virtually everything about his life, but who could not be bothered to tell him one whit about her own. A woman who set his blood to boiling in more ways than one. A woman who confounded him at every turn.
A woman he might never stop thinking about.
Chapter Seven
Grace had been with the Kensingtons for the better part of a fortnight and was much happier now than we she arrived, even though she still hadn’t told them the reason for her rather abrupt arrival. She had started to confide in them more about her life, often while working on needlework with Aunt Dorothea or digging in the gardens with Uncle Laurence.
Mr. Finchley, the gardener, had gone into fits the first time he caught the two digging together, but Uncle Laurence had calmly explained to him that he would have to accept their interference in his job. Since then, Mr. Finchley watched from a distance with a frown, but kept his opinions to himself.
Grace still listened more than she talked, and thought more than she listened, but her laughter had somehow become a frequent occurrence at New Hill Cottage. More and more often, she even caught herself smiling—something she had done only infrequently for years.
Sometimes at night, she still woke with nightmares. They served as a reminder her of her reason for being there. Not that she could forget if she tried.
Nearly two months had passed since Grace last saw her courses, and now she was experiencing several of the other joys of being with child—if one could call them that. Occasionally she would lose her breakfast, and the smell of fish turned her stomach in an instant. Afternoon walks with Uncle Laurence quickly tired her. She frequently retired to her bedchamber for a nap, sometimes even missing afternoon tea due to her growing fatigue.
Only two days previously, she had fallen asleep while working on some needlework with Aunt Dorothea. She didn’t wake until she pricked herself with a needle.
Fortunately, there were still no visible signs of her condition. Here, Grace was able to live a somewhat normal life with the Kensingtons. She rejoiced in their kindness, but she must tell them of her condition, and soon. They had to be growing suspicious of something being out of the ordinary, simply due to how easily she tired.
Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington had accepted Grace as though she were their own daughter. They had never had their own children, and seemed thrilled to pretend—at least for the time being—that she belonged with them.
Grace was all too happy to go ahead and pretend alongside them. Of course, she could only stay with them for a time, so tried to brace herself against the heartache of impending separation by not growing too close. It would only hurt worse when she was forced to leave.
She had so much more freedom in Somerton than she had ever experienced with her father. While she was with the Kensingtons, she could forget for a time that she would be forced into a marriage with whichever gentleman her father could convince to marry her—assuming he ever located her. She let herself imagine she could stay with the Kensingtons forever, that they could be a happy family without the threat of her father’s retribution.
She still shivered at the thought of a life with Lord Barrow. It was best to hope she would never have to return to London.
Her daydreams were filled with images of raising her child with her aunt and uncle at her side, allowing the tot to run wild through the gardens at New Hill. Some days, she dreamed of a man alongside her—a tall man with auburn hair, laughing and playing with her child.
But dreams were not reality. They could never be.
Even so, today would be favorable. Grace was going to paint the English countryside on the banks of the Cary River. She would put the tempest of her feelings onto canvas in swirls and streaks of color and texture in a way only she could do. Grace would never be considered the finest artist in England, but she did have a knack with her brushes.
She had a spring in her step when she joined her aunt and uncle for breakfast. The sky was overcast, but the wind was calm. It should be a perfect day for their picnic by the river.
She and Uncle Laurence planned to take their paints, canvases, and easels. Aunt Dorothea, in the process of embroidering a pillow to put in the morning parlor, planned to work on a spot of needlework. She said she could think of no better place to work on it than in the out of doo
rs, as long as the weather cooperated.
“Good morning, Gracie,” Uncle Laurence said. “You seem chipper today.” He looked up from his papers when she joined them at the breakfast table.
Grace grinned across at him. “Good morning, Uncle. Is anything interesting in your papers today?”
It took several days for the papers to reach them in Somerton, so by now the news he was reading was close to a week old. The lack of timeliness never stopped him from poring through them each morning.
He flicked the paper and looked over it at her. “Why, I would say so. It seems the Duke of Walsingham is engaged to a Miss Barbara Flynn. Young Miss Flynn was not pleased at the prospect of becoming his duchess, it would appear, as she took a dive from a second floor balcony at the engagement party given by her father. She suffered an injury to her arm in the fall, but her father assures all she will be quite fit to say her vows in a fortnight’s time.”
Grace’s heart plummeted to the floor. The poor girl! “My pity goes out to Miss Flynn, then. I am thankful I didn’t have to make such a choice.” Of course, she had been forced to make other choices. She turned back to her breakfast and tried not to think about how much the path of her life had changed of late.
Uncle Laurence leaned across the table and whispered to her, “I suppose there are some small favors granted to us in life.” He patted her on the top of her hand and resumed reading his papers.
She hated herself for not revealing her ruin to them before now. The Kensingtons had been more than kind to her, with not a single question asked about anything. They had simply accepted her. Grace took another bite and steeled herself to divulge her secret.
No time like the present.
“Uncle, Aunt. There is…there’s something I must tell you. Well, several somethings, actually.”
Uncle Laurence set his newspaper down on the table and gave her his undivided attention while Aunt Dorothea reached across the table to grasp her hand. “Go on, dear,” her aunt said. “You can tell us anything, you know.”
Grace took a breath and rushed out with it before she could think better of it. “I have run away from Father.” Their disgust and anger were sure to come at any moment. She squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see their reaction.
“Yes,” said Uncle Laurence. “Your aunt and I had surmised as much, Gracie. Why, your father cut off all contact with us years ago. He certainly couldn’t know you were here with us now. I don’t imagine he would have allowed you to visit it. What we have not discovered for ourselves is why you felt the need to do something so rash.”
They would hear her out? Shock set in that they weren’t turning her from their door immediately. She had difficulty finding her words. “I…he—the earl, that is” Goodness, where should she start?
“It is all right, sweetheart,” her aunt said. “Take your time. Your uncle always tells me it is best to begin at the beginning. I do often have difficulty finding where the beginning might be, myself, but I am certain he’s right.”
“The beginning?” Grace took a sip from her cup of morning chocolate to stall for a bit more time. Where had it all started? “Well, you see—I’ve been ravished.”
“Gracious heavens. Laurence, you must find the scoundrel and challenge him at once. Who did this to you, Gracie? We shall not stand for it, by gad. He will come to justice!” Aunt Dorothea rose from her seat and paced through the room. “I tell you, Laurence, I knew something horrible had happened to our Gracie, and that man—her father—he’s done nothing about it, has he? Of course he hasn’t. The vile, despicable—” Tears sprung to her aunt’s eyes.
“Dorothea, let the girl continue her story.” Uncle Laurence looked to Grace with understanding eyes. “She has not yet finished. Have you Gracie?”
She stared down at her hands folded on her lap. “No, Uncle. I—well…”
“Who was he, Gracie? Tell us the blackguard’s name and your uncle will challenge the deuced coward like your father should have done.”
A look from Uncle Laurence silenced her aunt again. “Dueling, my dear, is illegal, as you well know. His name is not important at this precise moment. Go on, sweetheart. Your aunt will not interrupt you again.”
If only she would. Those interruptions allowed her to put off the telling, even if only for a moment or two. “I’m…with child.” A single tear fell down her cheek, followed by a virtual flood. Her aunt was at her side in an instant, pulling her close.
“And is that why you left, Grace?” Uncle Laurence moved closer to where she sat.
She nodded, unable to form words as she succumbed to a bout of hiccups. Once they slowed, she tried to continue. “Father…he—w—when I told him, hic—he was so angry. He wants me to marry the man—”
“Oh no, you most certainly will not marry that man! I will never hear of it. The nerve of your father!”
Uncle Laurence placed a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder to quiet her. “Go on, Grace.”
“And if…if he will not have me, then I am to—to—to give the child away to a family in need of more hands and marry whoever else he can arrange for.”
Aunt Dorothea burst from her position to pace through the breakfast room. “What? I am appalled. Appalled!”
“So I came here to you,” Grace continued. She had to get through it all or she’d never finish. “I didn’t know where else to go. I’ll leave if you want me to. You have been more than kind to allow me to stay as long as you have. I don’t want to be a burden on you—”
“A burden? A burden! Laurence, the child thinks she is a burden on us. Goodness, Gracie, if you try to leave, I’ll be furious with you. Why, wherever would you go? You cannot do this alone, dear. I’ll not hear of it.”
Uncle Laurence nodded. “Your aunt is right. You must stay with us. Why, how would a woman in your situation get by? No, your leaving is out of the question.”
“But what if Father finds out where I am?” He would be irate if he knew they had willfully defied him. Murderous, even.
“Let me worry about that. I can handle your father.” Uncle Laurence’s eyes held a grim expression quite unlike his usual calm demeanor.
“And the baby?” How would they explain her situation to their neighbors? Oh, no, she couldn’t stay through her confinement. It would bring her shame upon them.
“The baby? Why, Gracie, your baby must stay where you stay. I’ll quite enjoy having a little one about, I daresay.” Aunt Dorothea puttered around the room, picking up objects from one position and moving them to another, in a random fashion. “Laurence, the next time we travel to Bath, I must purchase some yarn. I’ll need to begin knitting for the little one. Lud, do you think your child will have your eyes? I do hope so. Such pretty eyes. So unlike my boring, brown eyes. I always envied your mother those eyes, have I told you that? Why, I declare, they are the most fascinating shade. I could never tire of looking at them—and if I can stare at them in the face of a babe, oh, I’ll simply be in heaven…”
Her chatter droned on, but Grace could no longer concentrate on it. Her thoughts lay in only one direction. She could stay. And she could keep her child.
Everything would be all right. She finished her breakfast and prepared for the day ahead—a day of painting at the river with her aunt and uncle.
~ * ~
Gil’s coughing fit wracked his body as he and Alex rode. They were headed through the countryside to inspect the land by the creek and the Cary River. Rotheby’s land only covered the area surrounding the creek, but he kept emphasizing to Alex the importance of making certain things ran in a smooth manner all along the river.
His continued illness left Alex more than unsettled. It had gone on through the entire course of his visit, without even the slightest hint of improvement. Gil had coughing spells, tired easily, always complained of the cold, and had a sickly pallor to his skin. There was an easy answer as to why the illness lingered, but Alex didn’t want to accept it.
Gil was dying.
 
; Now the reason for his invitation was clear. The earl must want a friend with him during this time. He’d never said as much, but why else would he have summoned Alex to his side? And why Alex, when it would make more sense to send for his grandson. Quinton was Gil’s heir, after all. Though, admittedly, their relationship had been rather shaky. Maybe Quinton wasn’t the best to have around at such a time, after all.
Alex admired the earl. He would even go so far as to say he loved the man. Because of that love, he intended to do all he could to make certain Rotheby was content during their time together, however long it may be.
So, when Gil wanted to go for a ride, they rode. If Gil wanted to visit a friend or a tenant, they visited. When Gil wanted to tell stories of Alex’s childhood, or even of his own childhood, Alex listened with his utmost attention. Hence the reason for their current ride, even if Alex couldn’t understand why the earl was teaching Alex all of these things and not his heir.
Once Gil’s coughs subsided, Alex turned in his saddle to face him. “Are you doing all right, Gil? We can head back to Roundstone any time you’re ready.”
He didn’t want to seem overly protective—but it was a tricky business, in a time like this. He’d witnessed his father’s sudden death from apoplexy a few years back. Alex didn’t want his time with Gil to be shortened any more than necessary.
The earl glared at him from beneath the brim of his hat. “I most certainly am not ready yet, whippersnapper. Mind yourself.”
As usual, the older man was all bark with no bite. Alex laughed.
They rode down the bank of the river in silence for a distance, enjoying the warmth of the air despite the lack of sunshine. A group of picnickers were up ahead of them on the embankment. As they drew closer to the party, Alex could make them out finally: Sir Laurence, with his wife and Lady Grace.