“I’m bewildered, my lord. You’ve been so adamant against me. What did my mother say to you to make this change?” Could this be happening?
“Well, I apologized for my deportment.” Chatham took a moment, seeming to consider how much he should say. “She asked me about Grace, and before I knew what was happening, she had me telling all about how my wife died when Grace was a little girl.”
He paused here for several moments. “I loved her mother, you know—at least at first. But she never wanted me. She strayed from our marriage many times after Grace was born, and then she contracted a disease and died.”
A single tear fell down Chatham’s cheek. “I was devastated, and I took to drink. I’ve neglected Grace far too long, and your mother helped me realize it. Grace deserves to be happy, and I intend to see to it you make her happy. I can’t do it myself. But I can see from your perseverance and from your family you will do well by her. Far better than I have done.”
Alex sat behind his brother’s heavy desk and waited for lightening to strike. He must be dreaming. Surely this was not real. It had all been far too easy.
But nothing else happened. “I assume you would like to negotiate the terms now?” Perhaps the marquess wanted even more money than he had already offered.
“You shall marry by special license, as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you can arrange it.”
“Fine.” Better than fine. Alex didn’t want to wait. The longer it took for them to marry, the more likely scandal would follow.
“His Grace has offered to allow you to live at his estate in Somerton until you inherit your own property from Rotheby. You’ll take Grace there, so she will be close to her aunt and uncle.”
Peter had offered that? It would mean he had already discussed some of the terms with Chatham. Alex bit his lip to quell his frustration, but pushed it aside. He could deal with Peter later. “That is acceptable as well.” When would the man get to the financial arrangements? They, of all things, must weigh heavily on his mind. He waited for the marquess’s next provision, but it didn’t come. “Lord Chatham? What do you require in terms of financial compensation? Will the sum I offered yesterday suffice?”
Chatham flushed to a deep crimson. His words were clipped, choppy. “I require no compensation.”
Alex shook his head, certain he had misheard. “No compensation? Are you quite sure? I was sincere with my offer yesterday.”
“No compensation. Your mother is very…convincing. She helped me to see how distasteful it would be to take money from Grace’s future husband. It would be like selling her, like making her into…well, into the word I called her earlier.”
“Very well. Do you have any other requirements?” Alex was prepared to give the man just about anything.
“Just a request.” Chatham’s eyes darted about. “Allow me—after you and Grace are married, can I come to visit occasionally? I want to try to have a relationship with her. I know I’ve squandered many years when I could have spent them getting to know her. I’ve been a horrible father to her. But I want—I need to change that. Please.” He lowered his eyes to the floor.
Alex didn’t give an immediate response. He gave this last request thorough consideration. “If Grace is willing, you may visit. However, the decision will rest in her hands. She has a mind of her own, and I refuse to force her to do anything she is uncomfortable with.”
Chatham breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me. She may not wish to see you. And she may change her mind at any time.”
“But you’ll allow it, so I thank you. So now, what are your terms? What will you expect on my end of the bargain?”
“I have only one requirement. You will never use the word whore in regard to Grace again. Not to me, not to her, not to anyone.”
“That’s all? You require no dowry?”
A dowry? Surely if he expected payment for her before, the man had no means to provide a dowry.
“No dowry. Grace is enough on her own. I’ve no need for money, Chatham, as I’m positive you are aware.”
“Then we have an arrangement.”
Alex nodded. “It seems we do.”
But now he must convince Grace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grace calmed herself. The others who had left the salon returned, save her father and Lord Alexander. Aunt Dorothea reentered the room with an expression of glee sent in Grace’s direction.
Conversation flowed around her, about the upcoming entertainments and events of the ton, along with a great deal of speculation about some of the more recent gossip. Lady Charlotte complained about how everyone else could attend, but she was stuck in the schoolroom. Grace could think of nothing to add to the discussion, not knowing these people around her, and not truly having been exposed much to London society, so she chose to remain silent.
Lady Sophia moved across the room to sit beside her. “Grace, would you like to stroll about the room with me? You seem agitated. It might help to move.”
She breathed an unintended sigh of relief. “Oh, yes, that would be lovely.” They walked side-by-side, ignored by the rest of the company in the salon.
“I know we don’t know each other well, Grace, but I believe we’ll be good friends. More than friends, actually, since you’ll be my sister.”
“I’ve never had a sister before, Lady Sophia. I do not know how one should behave with one’s sisters.”
“Well to start, you ought to call me Sophie and leave the ‘lady’ behind,” she said with a kind smile and a firm pat on the back of Grace’s hand.
“All right, Sophie.”
“Excellent. And then you could tell me what’s really bothering you. I mean really, truly disturbing you. Sisters help each other. It’s part of some sort of unwritten rule book or something. Let me help you.”
Much like her mother, Sophie’s tone demanded attention—she would not be deterred. What was it about these Hardwickes that gave them such confidence, such eminence? It was certainly more than their station in society. Why, they weren’t all that much higher in rank than herself. And they didn’t comport themselves in a way that spoke to arrogance, simply one that commanded respect. If only one day, she too could walk with such an air of self-assuredness. Grace took a tentative look around the room to determine whether anyone else was listening in to their conversation.
“Your secret won’t be overheard. Char has them all well entranced.” Sophie slowed her gait and looked hard at Grace. “I won’t betray your confidence, you have my word. This will be between you and me, no one else.”
She swallowed. Grace wanted to trust Sophie, but trust had never come easy for her.
She leaned in and whispered up into Sophie’s ear. “I’m with child.” A fierce blush rushed to her face and she fought to maintain control over her emotions. It wouldn’t do to burst into yet another bout of hysterics. If only her emotions were not so close to the surface all the time, these days. Surely it would be easier to conceal them if they didn’t continuously amble their way to the forefront.
“I see.” Sophie didn’t appear shocked, which shocked Grace in turn. “And am I to understand the child is not my brother’s, and he is unaware of your circumstances?”
She expected censure in Sophie’s tone, but could detect no change. “Yes. I mean no.” Blast her nerves. She shook her free hand, trying to shake some of the nervous energy away. It only served to draw the attention of Lord Neil, which then sent her heartbeat to a full gallop, because the man’s face looked entirely too much like Lord Alexander for her comfort. “I mean yes, that’s what you should understand, and no, your brother is not aware, nor is he the father.”
“You’ve said you love my brother. Do you also love the baby’s father, Grace?” Her voice was soft, soothing.
“Oh, no. Not at all.” She shuddered at the thought.
“I should think you’d want to rush to the altar with Alex, then. I’m afraid I don’t understand the problem.”
“Why? Help me understand, Grace.”
“Because…because he deserves better.” Her voice cracked. “He deserves a lady who hasn’t been ruined, who can give him his own children.”
A few moments passed. “Do you think he would agree with your assessment, Grace?”
Grace blinked. “I don’t know.”
“And what makes you think you won’t give him his own children? Or that he wouldn’t accept your child as his own? Actually, if you are already with child, after what I assume was your first encounter? If that is the case, then wouldn’t it be more reasonable to assume you will without a doubt be able to provide him with his own children?”
“Ah, well. Oh, why must you be so reasonable?” Blast Sophie for sneaking into her heart with that one, single speech, and aggravating her, all in one swoop. Everything was going against the plan.
“Because that’s what I do. That’s what sisters are for. We conspire together, we argue, we confide in each other, and we help each other to see reason. Get used to it. There’s much more to come.”
Too much more, if the course of the day didn’t take a drastic turn.
Sophie winked at her. “Well, I’ll tell you what I think about this whole situation. I think—”
She was cut off by the return of Lord Alexander and Grace’s father.
“Grace, I need to speak with you alone, please,” her father announced over the din of the room. “Your Grace, might I continue to use your library?”
The duke agreed, and Grace excused herself from Sophie to follow her father.
Once they were settled in the library, Father began. “Lord Alexander and I have just negotiated the terms for your marriage. He’ll ask you to marry him later this evening, and you will accept.”
The courage she’d found earlier in the day bubbled forth again. “No, Father, I won’t.” Where was this all coming from? It must be from being in the presence of so many others who were always so sure of themselves. The Hardwickes had been a very favorable influence on her, indeed. At least to her way of thinking.
“I beg your pardon? You will obey me, Grace. I’m still your father and your guardian, even if you won’t be coming back to live with me.”
“Yes, you are my father. And if you order me to marry him, I’ll be forced to obey. I’ll have no choice in the matter. But if he asks me, I assure you, I will refuse.”
“You don’t love him?” He looked bewildered, aghast.
“I do love him, which is precisely the reason I won’t marry him. He deserves better than me.” The pain of speaking the words out loud set her legs to shaking beneath her. Now was not the time to feel faint.
“But he compromised you. He admitted to me he’s done even more than that. Why would you refuse him?”
“Because he doesn’t know about the child, Father.” The words came out on a sob, and she berated herself for showing such weakness in front of Father.
“The child? Why should the bloody child matter? For all he knows, it could be his own.” He paused for a moment, seeming to search his mind. “Actually, he does know about the child. And he’s still agreed.”
“He knows? How does he know?” The room seemed to rock around her, like a ship on stormy water. She reached her hands out, grasping for something to hold onto, something to ground her, something to calm the tempest brewing in her head.
“Because I told him. He doesn’t care. The child is unimportant.”
Her child was not unimportant. And she absolutely, unequivocally would not marry any man who thought such a thing. She would leave. She would find a way. At least she would as soon as the floor stopped moving.
“Your wishes notwithstanding, I’ll not marry him. You’ll have to get by without however much blunt the man has promised you in exchange for me, though I cannot fathom how you have managed to extract anything from him at this point. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”
“Why you impertinent—”
He broke off, but Grace knew what he intended to say. She raised her chin in defiance.
“You will marry him. If you don’t accept him on your own, I will command you to marry. You will obey.” He stalked from the room.
She moved to stare out the window, bracing herself on one piece of furniture after the other in order to keep her balance. If only she had paid more attention to their surroundings while she’d traveled with her aunt and uncle. It would be much easier to escape if she knew where to go.
But she absolutely would not marry a man who thought her child unimportant. A nuisance. Another man’s by-blow.
This was her child. She would have to find a way—some way—to give her the home she deserved.
Her. Grace was already thinking of the baby as a little girl. She took one hand from the window frame and held it against the slight swell of her belly.
I’ll find a way. Everyone in your life will love you, little one. You won’t grow up like I did.
~ * ~
Alex reentered his brother’s library where Grace was waiting for him. Chatham hadn’t told him about how their conversation had gone. He’d just left and told him she was ready.
Of course, she’d refused him before. But with her father on his side, she would change her mind. She would accept. Grace would marry him.
She stood by the picture window, staring out at the fading sun, one hand resting on the windowsill. Her black-as-night hair hung in a loose knot at the nape of her neck instead of her customary strict bun. A few tendrils wisped along her brow and tucked behind her ear. He didn’t want to break the beauty of the moment, the perfect picture standing before him. But she turned to face him, and her eyes pierced him through.
“Your father told me I might find you here to speak with you. Grace, I have something to ask you.”
He stepped toward her but she gave him no encouragement. When he reached her, he took her free hand in his own. His hand shivered from the chill of her fingers.
“I would like you to be my wife. I want to care for you, to have a family with you. We can live in Somerton and be near your aunt and uncle, and near Lord Rotheby. I can provide for you. I can make you happy, Grace.” He searched her eyes for something, anything. “Will you marry me?”
Her face showed no emotion, but she trembled beneath his touch. “No, my lord, I will not.”
A blow to the stomach would have been easier to accept. He released her hand to draw his own through his hair. Pivoting on his boots, he paced the library floor. What agony this was. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“No, my lord. Nothing.”
He paced some more, grasping for anything to convince her to accept him. But he found no answer. “But the scandal.” Surely she couldn’t face the scandal surrounding her if she refused. The scandal of birthing a child while unmarried. Of being an unwed mother. Society did not favor such women.
“Scandal does not concern me, my lord.” Her voice was as cold and bereft as her eyes.
“What does concern you then, Grace?” His voice was rising, but he could do nothing to stop it. “What, pray tell, will put the passion back in your eyes and the heat back in your voice?” Even as he spoke, somehow her pale skin blanched further. “What will make you feel something? Anything?”
A piece of the ice chipped away from her eyes. “You think me unfeeling, my lord? Then why do you insist on continuing this charade?”
Deuce take it, could the chit not answer a simple question? Or several, as the case may be. “I most certainly do not think you unfeeling, because I have seen you feel. Nevertheless, I do believe you keep a tight cork on it all, at least where I am concerned.” Most of the time. She occasionally lost her tight rein over it with him.
And here he was answering her questions instead of getting ans
wers to his own. Bloody hell. “Answer me. What can I do to get you to feel something? Must I resort to the same tactics as the last time we saw each other?”
“I feel. I feel an awful lot more than you do, you uncaring lout.” Her eyes widened in shock. Apparently she hadn’t intended to use that sort of language with him. Progress.
“And why am I an uncaring lout? I believe I’ve made my feelings more than clear to you. I want to marry you. I want you.” God, did he ever want her. Even with her cold demeanor, the air fairly crackled between them.
“Because…because…augh! Because my child doesn’t matter to you!” She drew away from the window to face him full on. “Because it is unimportant.”
He blinked. A rather unexpected development, indeed. Apparently Chatham had informed her that he was aware of her pregnancy. “Of course the child doesn’t matter. I want to marry you. Nothing will change that. How in bloody hell does that make me unfeeling?” Would he never understand her?
“Because it does! How could it not? If my child is unimportant to you, my lord, then I must also be unimportant to you. I will not have you. You may now cease your efforts, if you please.”
So very proper, even in a full rage. How enchanting! There was no wonder he loved the minx. “For your information, Grace, I never said the child was unimportant. Either your father did, or possibly you assigned that word to me, yourself.”
“Well, you agreed with it, didn’t you?” She placed both hands haughtily on her hips, assuming The Stance—the one his mother so often took when she required submission.
“I suppose technically I did. But I was unaware of your meaning when I agreed. Your child will never be unimportant to me. Never. I will love it as my own. I only meant that the fact of your being with child would not matter in the face of my desire to marry you. It changes nothing.”
“Hmph!” She still held The Stance like a professional. Grace must have learned quickly from the females in his family, in order to achieve such perfect disdain. It looked glorious on her.
A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle Page 57
