Again Lady Wednesday played the pianoforte after dinner and they danced. The men who were not so inclined disappeared into the billiard room. Jack was the first to leave their party to play at billiards.
The ladies retired and after a brief meeting in the library, the men did as well.
Grace remained awake when Owen entered the Viscountess’ room.
“I’ve thought about you the entire afternoon, Grace,” Owen whispered huskily into her ear after he undressed and joined her in the bed. He gathered her naked body in his arms and kissed her deeply. Within minutes he was inside her. They made love slowly and passionately; both determined to make their last night together stretch as long as it possibly could. They shared their love for one another nearly the entire night through, taking time to doze in one another’s arms only long enough for passion to reclaim them.
In the hour before dawn, after a very fast and furious bout of love-making, Owen had to leave her, for his servants would enter his room at any moment to prepare his bath and finish his packing.
“Look at me Grace.” Owen lifted her chin with his fingers. He wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Grace Brackenridge. I will return to you. We will marry upon my return. Tell me you believe that.”
Grace nodded, “I do believe you Owen. I do. I know it is silly, but I just feel so sad at your leaving…I can’t explain it.” Another tear rolled down her cheek.
“Grace, I can’t wait to make you my wife.” Owen kissed her lingeringly. When he heard footsteps in the hall he kissed her one last time and moved to the connecting door.
“I shall see you off!” Grace threw back the covers.
“I would prefer you did not, Grace, for I would be tempted to touch you and kiss you. I do not wish to mar your reputation. Now that we’ve been intimate, Grace, I can’t trust myself when we’re in public. Please stay in your bed. Let our last kiss and our lovemaking be how we remember our parting, my dearest. It’s only three months, Grace. I love you. I will write to you as soon as I arrive in Italy.”
Grace gave him a trembling smile as he slid into his room and closed the door. Only three months!
Chapter Seven
The first week she did not receive a letter from Owen, Grace was not alarmed. When the second week passed, she felt discouraged, but was certain she would receive one the third week.
The fourth week after Owen left her in the Viscountess’ bed to leave for Italy, Grace called upon Libby. She asked for Owen’s address in Italy.
Libby seemed perplexed but gave the address to her. Libby proceeded to tell her of the three letters they had received from Owen.
The next morning Grace mailed a letter to Owen, certain she would receive a response within a week’s time.
She did not. Nor did she receive a response the week after.
Eight weeks after Owen left, Grace realized she carried his child. She sent a letter to Owen. Followed by four more. By the tenth week, having received no response at all from Owen, she had to admit to herself something was wrong. Encouraged by the fact Owen was due home in two weeks, Grace tried to remain positive.
She spent most of her time indoors. Occasionally she walked in the garden and along the woodland path.
The eleventh week came and she rode to the secret glen in the wood where she and Owen had made love. She cried for hours. Something was terribly wrong. Had Owen forsaken her? In her heart she just couldn’t believe that. She had been certain he loved her. Could she have been so in love with him she was blind to the truth? She didn’t think so. She could not understand why he did not write.
The next morning she rode along the Quay with the intention of finding Libby and was successful.
“How are you Grace?”
Grace noted Libby’s nervousness as she spoke to her.
“I – I suppose I am all well enough.” Grace pursed her lips and asked, “Libby, I must know, have you heard from Owen?”
“We receive two letters a week from him since he departed from Devon, Grace.” Libby knew her father received private letters from Owen in addition to the letters she mentioned. Their father had asked her several times if she had seen or spoken to Grace. Owen’s letters to her were merely about how he spent his days in Italy, yet he did not seem his usual happy self. Libby suspected it had something to do with Grace. She wanted to ask Grace if Owen had written her. Perhaps they had quarreled? She was unsure what to do. So she said nothing about Owen and did not ask any questions.
“Oh.” Grace bit her lip to keep from crying.
Libby noted the crestfallen look on Grace’s face and it looked as if she was about to cry.
“Thank you, Libby.”
Libby saw Grace visibly pale and begin to tremble. “Grace, are you ill? Ride with me back to Roseland, we can call the doctor. You don’t look well.”
“No! I wish to go home!” There were far too many painful memories at Roseland. She did not want to see a Doctor yet. No one could know her secret until Owen returned. “I must get back to Radley, thank you, Libby. Good day to you.” Grace turned her mare about and raced toward home, tears streaming down her cheeks as she did.
The next morning Grace was ecstatic when her father handed her a letter from Italy. It was from Owen! He had not forsaken her. Her heart soared. She hastened to her room and tore open the letter once her door clicked shut behind her.
Dearest Grace,
We keep very busy here in Italy. I regret to inform you that we must stay an extra two months. I look forward to speaking with you immediately upon my return. If you would be so kind, it would be good to hear some news from you.
Greyton
The coldness of his letter cut her like a knife. Her fingers trembled. She felt ill. She had written him every week since she received his address from Libby. She had given him news. News that he was to be a father! Did he not care? He mentioned nothing about her being with child in his letter. He wanted to speak to her immediately upon his return. About what? What did he mean when he said it would be good to hear some news from her? And he signed it Greyton. She had never called him Greyton.
Grace suddenly felt dizzy. She tried to walk to the chaise but her legs were wobbly. The room began to spin. She broke into a cold sweat and she felt herself falling. She crumpled to the floor.
“Papa?”
“My dear, the good Doctor told me your secret,” her father said in a kind but stern tone. “You maid has verified it.”
“Secret?” Grace lifted a hand to her aching head. Oh, that she carried Owen’s child. That secret. Her heart felt like it would burst once again.
“Lord Marston called for you. He is willing to marry you. He knows you carry Greyton’s child, for I told him. He is willing to take you, ruined as you are. It is a very generous offer, and very kind of him to allow you to keep the child. I think you should accept.”
Grace tried to sit up but was seized by nausea. Her father stepped out while Jenny held the chamber pot for her to wretch in.
He came back in several minutes later. “May I tell Marston you accept?”
“No!” Grace said sternly. “I do not wish to marry Lord Marston. I want to marry Owen, I love him, Papa! There has to be some mistake. He said he tried to offer for me before he left but you would not hear it until his return. He gave me his mother’s engagement ring to keep until his return. He planned to offer for me and said we would marry!” Grace sobbed.
“Child, I regret to inform you that Greyton never mentioned anything to me about offering for you. Had he mentioned it, I would have agreed, I saw how happy you were.”
“He would not lie!” Grace retorted angrily.
“And you are saying that I, your own Papa, would lie to you?”
Grace frowned. “No…I-I’m so confused Papa.” She began to cry. Heart-wrenching sobs escaped her.
Her father rested his hand upon her arm. “Have a good cry, dear. I shall talk to you tomorrow morning. Get some rest.”
Many hours later,
Grace gave a letter to Jenny. “Jenny, please take this letter and make certain it gets posted. There has been some huge mistake. I must reach Owen. He loves me, I know in my heart he does.”
“Yes, Miss.” Jenny felt a pang of guilt as she accepted the letter. Truly, she had never seen any woman as heart-broken as her mistress. She considered taking the letter into the village the next day when she went to see her mother.
When she stepped into the corridor, the Squire spotted the letter in her hand.
“She’s a stubborn one, isn’t she, Jenny?”
“Yes, Squire.” Jenny dutifully placed the letter in the squire’s outstretched hand as she had done with all of the other letters Grace had written to Greyton.
Owen sat on the patio of the Villa where he and his colleagues resided while staying in Italy.
He re-read the letter he received from Libby explaining her meeting with Grace on the Quay. Why had Grace not written? Libby said Grace looked pale and thin. That she appeared to be in poor health and spirits. He hadn’t received one damned letter from her. He expected to at least have heard from her after he sent the package of Venetian lace to use for her wedding gown. Six more weeks. In six weeks he would return and find out directly from Grace what the hell had happened.
Bloody Hell! He’d fallen madly in love with Grace Brackenridge and it seemed she’d had a change of heart! It was their day of rest from their excavation site. He swirled the brandy in his glass and propped his booted feet upon a stool and enjoyed the view of the Tyrrhenian Sea beyond. As the hours passed, his view of the sea eventually blurred. The others went into the nearby village to find some sport. All save Jack who was entertaining his Italian mistress at her home down the lane. Owen preferred to sit under the olive trees, gaze at the Mediterranean and drink himself into oblivion.
Anything to stop the pain that ripped his heart in two. He should have heeded those feelings to stay behind with Grace he experienced before leaving Devon. Those feelings were a warning. This he now knew. What kind of warning? To save his soul he could not come up with an answer, or figure out what was happening between him and Grace. The morning he left Roseland, he was certain Grace loved him as much as he loved her.
As Grace entered the shop in Hartland she was so preoccupied she nearly ran into Mrs. Woodson. Mrs. Woodson, a local widow, still fairly young and quite attractive, dropped a stack of letters to the floor.
“I apologize, Mrs. Woodson. Allow me to pick up your letters.” Grace bent and froze. The letter staring up at her was written in Owen’s hand with his Italian direction on it. She paid no attention to the other side. With shaking fingers she handed the letters to Mrs. Woodson.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Woodson blushed, “I trust you won’t tell anyone my secret, Miss Brackenridge.” She continued in a whisper, “Greyton has always had a tendre for me. He writes to me once a week from Italy. He says he misses me terribly. Imagine that, and being a woman of my age,” Mrs. Woodson nearly purred.
“No, I will not tell,” Grace said numbly. “Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Woodson.” Grace turned and pushed open the door.
“Dear, you’ve only just arrived. What did you come for?” Mrs. Woodson protested.
“My apologies, Mrs. Woodson, I-I feel suddenly ill. I must return home.” Grace pushed open the door and exited onto the street.
Mrs. Woodson turned the letter over to view The Squire’s attempt at covering up his daughter’s direction with hers. As it turned out, he hadn’t needed to bother doing so. She smiled to herself. She earned a great deal of money for so easy a task.
Grace trembled as she made her way to the phaeton and the driver awaiting her.
“I need to go home.”
“Yes, Miss.”
She sat straight and tall in the seat. She would not cry in the middle of Hartford. The town would have plenty to say about her soon enough. She needed to think. She struggled to make sense of everything.
It appeared Owen had not been truthful with her. It appeared Owen had forsaken her. She told herself it certainly seemed everything she thought there was between them was a lie. Owen had a mistress. That he missed terribly, enough to write to her in any case. Grace had received one cold, curt letter that, try as she might, she didn’t understand. In it he had not professed his love or even said that he missed her.
It became quite clear to her at that moment that Owen was angry with her because she carried his child. There was also the possibility that he had never truly loved her. That he had used her. That all she was to him was a mere dalliance to fill his time with before he left for Italy. She had been a fool!
She ran upstairs after alighting from the phaeton. Collapsing on her bed, Grace gave in to heart-wrenching sobs that racked her body and left her numb and spent as darkness fell over Hartland. Her heart was utterly and completely torn in two. It was broken. It could never be mended. She was certain of that.
“She is close, Marston. Her interaction with Mrs. Woodson did the trick, I think. She has stayed in her room for three days.”
“I want her married to me before Greyton returns!”
“There are five weeks left, Marston. She is almost four months along. Give me two days. I will get back to you. Prepare for a wedding. We will have a small, private ceremony the day after she agrees. Time is of the essence, as you well know.” The Squire took a sip of his brandy.
“I want it done by next week,” Marston warned before he turned on his heel and left.
“Grace?”
Grace opened her eyes and looked upon her father. She had fallen asleep upon the chaise while trying to read.
“I’m worried about you Grace. Jenny says you eat no more than a bird. I don’t know what has happened, but Grace, either you’ll have to marry or I’ll have to send you to your Aunt’s home in Ireland to have the child and it will have to be given up. You are nearly four months along. Marston called earlier. He still will take you but he’s tired of waiting. What shall I tell him, Grace?”
Grace truly didn’t care about anything at the moment. Owen had written her only once, and it was a short, bitter letter that mentioned nothing about love or affection, or their child. He sent letters to his mistress, Mrs. Woodson once a week. He wrote his family twice a week. Those facts spoke volumes. She told Owen five times in five separate letters she was with child. He had yet to acknowledge the fact that she did carry their babe. He obviously did not care. Part of her wanted to die.
Yet the part of her that carried Owen’s babe wanted to live. She might not have Owen, but she would always have his child. No one could ever take their child from her. And Marston, though she never liked him, offered to allow her to keep her child. And Papa hadn’t scolded her once, though if it were made known she was unmarried and with child, his reputation as well as hers could be ruined.
Grace nodded weakly. “Tell him I will marry him, Papa.”
“This is for the best, you will see, Grace. Obviously Greyton did not truly love you, and he certainly wasn’t willing to take responsibility for getting you with child. Marston will be kind to you. And you will have your child. The wedding must be tomorrow, for you are far along. It will be private. We will hold the ceremony here.”
After she nodded her consent, the Squire rose and left his daughter’s room. He grinned triumphantly after he closed the door behind him. He would soon receive a great deal of money from Marston to pay off his debts. He decided to pour himself a brandy to celebrate his success.
Roseland Abbey, November 1830
Owen hurried down the stairs. He arrived at Roseland well after midnight. Once he set foot on English soil, he was anxious to see his family and get himself to Radley and find out what the hell had happened with Grace!
“Owen!” Libby squealed with excitement as she jumped up from her chair and embraced her brother.
“You’re looking lovely as always, Pet!” Owen kissed his sister’s cheek loudly. He embraced his father, noting he looked more tired and a little thinner than when he
left. Reginald clapped him on the back. “Sit down, Owen. Eat.”
“I’m famished. I neglected to stop for a meal yesterday, I was so anxious to get home.” Owen sat down.
They ate and talked. Owen told them of the many wonders they had discovered in Italy.
When they had finished their breakfast Libby asked her brother, “Will you join me this morning, Owen? It is chilly but fair enough to ride.”
“I’m sorry, pet. I am going to Radley and talk to Grace. I must find out why I never heard from her in all these months. I will ride with you tomorrow morning.”
Libby gave her father a worried look.
“Go take your ride, Lamb. Allow me to talk to your brother,” Reginald said to his daughter.
Libby rose and hurried from the dining room.
“Father, I insist, I must go to Radley and talk to Grace this very moment. I will talk to you when I return.” Owen stood.
“Sit down, Owen.”
“Father, I–“
“Sit down! You’re not going to Radley. Grace is not at Radley.”
“What are you saying, father?” Owen grew very still. Something was very wrong, he could tell by the look on his father’s face. His heart thundered in his chest. Was Grace well? Good heavens, was she ill or worse?
“She married Marston four weeks ago. She resides in Bideford with him. Rumor has it she’s with child.”
Owen stood very still for long moments. “What?” After a few seconds, Owen pounded his fist upon the table causing the footman walking past in the hallway to jump. “Bloody Hell! Why didn’t she tell me? Why did she not answer one damned letter? Why did you not tell me in your letters?”
“There was no point in telling you in a letter. I did not know she was married until after the fact. I only found out three weeks ago. You were still in Italy it would only have upset you further. You could not write her as she is now married. I will tell you this, son. Grace has not looked well since you left. I do not trust her father. She is not happy now. I saw her two weeks ago and she looks very poorly, even worse than she did when I saw her two months ago. I do not know what happened, but I suspect it has every bit to do with Marston and the Squire. I’ve thought it odd since you told me the Squire would not hear your offer for his daughter before he left.”
Lord Greyton's Fall From Grace (Lords of Avalon Novella Series) Page 9
