“You could get hurt,” she said softly.
“That’s true, I could. I have been, in the past, when I was young and reckless. But I haven’t been seriously hurt since I became older and wiser.”
“Do you think you’ll ever leave your post?”
Marcello shrugged, then decided if he wanted her to trust him, he needed to show some trust in her. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know if I’ll stay in the profession long-term. It’s becoming difficult for me,” he said, admitting it aloud to both Grace and himself for the first time. “I’ve been thinking about retiring or moving on to something else.”
“Like what?”
Marcello’s reply was cut off by a buzzing sound coming from his pocket. He shifted the baskets in his hand to maneuver the phone free, and saw a message from Catharine.
“Cat’s wondering where we are. She said she’s hungry and she’s starting breakfast without us.”
“I can see what you mean about her being spoiled,” she said and laughed. The sound sent a shudder through him; it was low and husky, as though she hadn’t laughed in a while. That sobering thought, he realized, was probably true. He would have to help her laugh again.
“You didn’t get to enjoy your garden this morning,” he said. “I can go back and fend her off if you’d like some time to yourself.”
The smile faded from her lips and he wondered if he had said something wrong. However, a moment later, she cleared her throat and said, “The garden will be there tomorrow. I only have a few days with Cat and I’d like to spend some time with her.”
“Then let’s walk back together,” he said as they turned.
They stopped at the garden shed to deposit the tools and baskets, then made their way to the main house. Marcello casually took Grace’s hand again, and was more than a little pleased that she didn’t tense up again or try to pull away.
Once they got near the house, however, her demeanor changed. It wasn't fear, but embarrassment on her face when she pulled her hand away. She spoke again when they entered the house through a side door.
“I just realized that I didn’t show you to your room last night. Were you well taken care of?”
Her delicate fingers were interlaced with each other, and held tightly together. With this, at least, he could set her mind at ease. “I was perfectly cared for, I assure you.” Because he could not stand to see her fingers enduring such torture, and because he wanted her to know that an unexpected act was not synonymous with a cruel one, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
At the sound of footfalls in the hall, she pulled her hand quickly away. When the click of a door and retreating footsteps followed it, she continued on her path through the house. Marcello followed close behind, enjoying the view of her demure derriere in her jeans.
“So, which room did the butler take you to?” she asked as they made their way up the steps towards the guest rooms.
“Well, I think the butler was still looking after our driver, so Cat showed me to a room.”
Grace stopped on the stairs on turned to him, eyebrows raised. “She did? I didn’t think she knew which room I’d had prepared for you.”
Marcello held back the smile threatening to break free. “She didn’t.”
“Oh,” she said with a confused expression. “Then where did you sleep last night? Was the room adequate? I hope she didn’t take you to one of the rooms we’re still renovating.”
“She didn’t,” he said as he continued up the stairs, and Grace followed in his wake.
“Then which room are you staying in?” she asked as they paused in front of her bedroom door.
“She took me to the only other room she knew; the one next door to yours.”
“What?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Would you prefer I moved to another room? I’ve gotten settled there, but I am more than happy to oblige you.”
She sagged, in defeat he thought. “No, of course not. If you find the room adequate, there’s no need to change.”
“I find it more than adequate to my needs.”
“Yes, well. I suppose I’ll see you at breakfast then.”
“Count on it,” he said as he removed her large hat and saw her breath catch. He stepped closer and brushed back an errant lock of golden hair that had escaped her messy braid. “Count on me, fair Grace,” he said as he handed her the hat and walked away to his own room. She was still standing there, watching him when he entered.
Chapter 7
Good God, Grace thought as she entered her bedroom. Marcello was staying next door. She slipped off her boots and carried them into her closet as another thought struck her. She inched toward the door that led to the joint sitting room and was horrified to see the door unlocked.
When she thought Cat was staying next door, there had been no need to lock it. Now, however, as she stood staring at the door, she wondered why she was hesitating. Her head could rationalize that Marcello would not harm her, not like Daniel had, but her heart was too battered to believe it.
She shook her head and flipped the lock. After watching the door another minute, she picked out some clothes, and went to shower and ready for breakfast.
When she emerged from her room about thirty minutes later, now in sophisticated pants and a long-sleeved silk shirt, she gave a wary gaze down the hall. She thought she was past the days of being scared in her own house.
As she made her way down the stairs, she reminded herself that this situation was different. As her therapist had told her, there are different kinds of fear. Just because she feels afraid does not mean it’s the same fear she felt under Daniel’s hand. Grace was still trying to sort out new feelings, and recognize them for what they really were.
As she entered the dining room, it was to find brother and sister arguing with each other. She stiffened in the doorway at the sound of raised voices, until she heard Cat laughing a moment later and relaxed slightly. That was something else her therapist had said: not all arguments were created equal, and not all arguments ended in raised fists. In theory it all sounded great, but when faced with the situation in real life, she still felt fear at times.
“Is something wrong?” Grace asked as she approached the side board, where breakfast had been laid out buffet-style. With shaky hands she hoped were not visible to her guests, she began to put some food on her plate.
“We were just arguing about the wedding. Again,” Cat said.
“We weren’t arguing,” Marcello assured her, his eagle eyes watching Grace’s progress across the room as she carried her plate to the table and sat down. “I was merely pointing out my sister’s sexist behavior and she’s upset that I have a valid point.”
“Not true,” Cat said with a pout and Marcello smiled broadly, clearly enjoying upsetting his sister. Grace could not help but notice that Marcello’s smile was warm and friendly; Daniel’s had always been anything but. She also could not help but notice that Marcello's smile had her insides churning, for a much different reason than Daniel’s had.
“It is true. Let’s ask an impartial third party,” Marcello said as he turned to Grace. “Would you like to settle a small dispute?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of anything,” Grace said as her fingers wound around the napkin in her lap; she was not a fan of confrontation.
“You won’t,” Marcello said. Then more softly, “You couldn’t.”
After a few moments, Grace nodded and said, “What’s the question?”
As Marcello began to speak, Cat shot him a look that would have felled a normal man but not a brother. “I’ll tell her,” Cat said. Marcello gestured with his hand for her to go right ahead.
“So, it’s like this. We’re going to give Rebecca a bridal shower. A completely traditional, sweet, fun, and clean bridal shower.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Grace said.
“Exactly,” Cat replied quickly and shot another look at
her brother. “It’s completely reasonable. What is not reasonable, is that he and our other brothers want to throw Alex a bachelor party, which is completely appalling.”
“I see,” Grace said, though she really couldn’t. To Marcello, she asked, “Is that correct?”
“Half-correct,” Marcello said. “We will throw Alex a bachelor party, but it’s not like we’ll have strippers there or anything. We are talking about the future king, remember? Besides, Alex wouldn’t want strippers; he’s not that kind of guy.”
“Why throw him a party at all?” Cat asked.
“Why throw Rebecca a party at all?” Marcello chimed back. “It’s only fair.”
Cat sighed dramatically and turned to Grace. “What do you think?”
With both sets of eyes now fixated on her, Grace needed a few moments to think. She thought of her own bridal shower, and how happy and excited she had been. Of course, at the same time, Daniel had attended his bachelor party. She did not learn until years later that he had cheated on her, and not for the first time, that night.
She reminded herself, however, that this situation was different. Prince Alexander was not Daniel and, based on the photos she had seen of the newly engaged pair, they were truly in love. Daniel had certainly never looked at her that way, she could admit that now.
“Well,” Grace said, buying a little more time by fixing herself a cup of tea. She gave Cat a sympathetic look before she said, “I think that what Marcello is proposing is not unreasonable.”
Marcello smiled again while Cat gasped. “Really?”
“I think the term ‘bachelor party’ can have some very dismal connotations,” Grace said. “It doesn’t sound like those would apply to Prince Alexander, though. Am I wrong, Cat?”
Reluctantly, Cat said, “No. No, you’re not wrong. He’s my twin, of course I know that. I’m just worried what the press will say when they hear ‘bachelor party’, and I’m worried what they might say about Rebecca because of it.”
Marcello reached across the table and held Cat’s hand. “It’s sweet that you care about her so much, Kitty Cat,” he said. “You know we’ll do anything to protect her.”
“Thanks, Marcello,” Cat said as she squeezed his hand back. “Maybe you could call it something else though. ‘Groom’s shower’, maybe?”
At that idea, Marcello let go of Cat’s hand and began laughing. It was a full belly laugh, and Grace could not help but smile at the sight of it.
Pouting again, Cat said, “Well, maybe you can think of something else to call it.”
When Marcello’s laughter died down, he said, “It doesn’t matter what we call it. Everyone will still think of it as a bachelor party.”
“I know,” Cat said as she shuffled food around on her plate.
“Look on the bright side, Cat,” Marcello said. “We’ve still got another eleven months to think of something better than ‘groom’s shower’.” Marcello chuckled. “I can’t wait to share that one with Alex.”
Cat threw her napkin at Marcello, who deftly caught it and flung it back in one swift motion.
Grace sat amused and slightly alarmed by the whole conversation. Her own family, and certainly her time with Daniel, had not been so lighthearted. She never dared believe that she would see an argument that did not end in bruises or raised voices, yet here is sat right in front of her. She was at a loss as to what to do next.
“The mail has arrived, Miss Grace,” the butler said as he brought in a small tray with the letters and a letter opener. “Shall I leave them in your office?”
Grace typically opened her mail during breakfast, but she'd not had guests here in so long, she wasn't sure about protocol.
“Go ahead, Grace,” Cat said encouragingly. “You don’t need to entertain us if you’ve got some things to see to.”
“Absolutely,” Marcello added. “Cat is amusing enough for all of us. ‘Groom’s shower’. I still can’t get over it.” He chuckled again.
Deciding that she wanted to stay and breakfast with them, she said, “I’ll take it here, thank you.”
As Marcello and Cat continued talking and eating, Grace sorted through the letters. Bills, bills, bills, she saw, in what seemed like a never-ending stream. Bills for both this estate and her own, Raynott Hall. At the bottom of a pile was an envelope of pale cream, made of expensive paper and addressed to Grace from one of her neighbors.
After she opened it, her brows furrowed as she perused the letter, also on thick, costly paper. By the time she had finished, a little fear had returned but for an entirely new reason.
“Something wrong, Grace?” Marcello asked softly. Grace lifted her eyes and saw the concern evident on his face. When was the last time a man had looked at her like that?
“No. It seems we have received an invitation.”
“We?” Cat asked as she took a sip of coffee.
“Yes. My neighbors, Lord and Lady Picford live several miles away. They heard that I had Vallerian royalty visiting me, and have invited all of us to their home tomorrow evening. Lady Picford is throwing her annual end-of-summer ball.”
“Short notice,” Marcello said, his shrewd eyes missing few details.
“Yes, well, we never really got on with each other,” Grace said and took a sip of tea. She did not want to add that Lord Picford reminded her too much of Daniel and that she had consciously avoided him over the years, even if it cost her a beating to do it.
“We don’t need to go, Grace, if you would rather not. We certainly have no reason to see them,” Marcello assured her. “Would it be better for you if we declined the invitation?”
Grace wanted to sag in relief, but knew that the invitation could not be avoided. “I think that this time, it may be prudent to agree. Lord Picford could make things very difficult for me if I sell Nithercott Hall.”
Marcello sat back in his chair, one hand resting easily on the table while the other landed on his hip. “Could he really?” he asked as though he had just been challenged himself by Lord Picford.
“Unfortunately, yes. Those looking to buy a whole estate aren’t looking to buy one with horrible neighbors nearby.”
“It sounds like they only invited us in order to claim that royalty dined at their home,” Cat said.
“I agree,” Marcello said and crossed his arms. “And I don’t like it one bit. Why should we waste an evening dining with them, when they care so little about you, Grace?”
“Well said, brother,” Cat said. “However, we need to have dinner with them. We wouldn’t want to make things difficult for Grace.”
“I would never do that,” Marcello said as he met Grace’s eye. Grace felt that she could almost believe him.
“Why don’t we invite them here?” Cat asked. “If you agree, of course, Grace. That way, they get their dinner and we don’t have to bother driving out to meet them.”
“That would work, if it weren’t for the fact Lady Picford is hosting a ball, not merely a dinner. I suppose we could have them over the night after next.”
“I forgot about that,” Cat said. “Too bad we can’t just move the ball here.”
Grace laughed at that. “A ball? Here? In two days? That would never happen.”
“Why not?” Marcello asked.
Grace sighed. “There’s just too much to do. Half the house is being renovated, I would need to hire a great deal more staff, which isn’t easy in the country, not to mention dealing with the menu, the music, the cleaning, the landscaping, and that’s just the start of it. Oh! I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”
“So you’re saying it’s possible?” Marcello quipped with a smile.
Grace laughed again then shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. I just don’t, well, I’m just not ready for all those people to come here. I’m sorry.”
She hoped they understood what she meant. By Cat’s sympathetic gaze, Grace knew she had. When she glanced at Marcello, she saw the same expression mirrored in the smoky depths of his eyes. She suddenly
felt as though she could lose herself in those eyes, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“The benefit of a ball,” Grace continued, needing to distract herself from him. “Is that there will be quite a lot of people there. We wouldn’t have to speak to Lord and Lady Picford as much, though they may make a display of the two of you, as royal guests.”
“I think we can still have everyone over,” Marcello said. “I can make that happen, if that’s what you want,” he said to Grace.
She felt herself being closed in again, and hated the feeling. She hated the Picfords with their squat, pinched faces, and she was not fond of Marcello for going against her wishes and suggesting she host the ball.
Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) Page 6
