by Wendy Vella
Nick hadn't thought about the consummation of his marriage, but guessed he should at some stage. Leo was right, if they had a child now, his heir would be secured. He could place both Grace and the child in the country, and his life need not change at all.
"Best not to wait to consummate," Leo said. "Just in case."
"In case of what?" Nick queried.
"In case she can't have children. Better to know sooner rather than later so you can make contingency plans."
"Dear God, you are a callous bastard," Nick said.
"I want to know, what the contingency plans are?" Jacob inquired, which everyone ignored.
"Even if you believed he was lying, why did you not at least attempt to take the way out, Nick, when Lord Harrington presented you with one?" Leo asked him.
"I will not be responsible for ruining a woman. Plenty of men have done so but I will not be one of them. My honor is important… as it is to all of us," he added.
"You and your bloody honorable intentions," Marcus muttered.
"Well, plenty of marriages are formed without love, Nick," Jacob said. "In fact half of society is in a loveless marriage, and perhaps that is the best option as then there are no messy emotions involved."
"Here, here," Leo and Marcus agreed. Nick, however, remained silent.
The tap on the door to his study stalled any further discussion on the topic, thankfully.
"Enter," Nick said.
"I have come to say goodbye, Nick.” His cousin Elizabeth stood framed in the doorway. Tall and elegant, she was sought by many eligible men for her beauty, but as yet had rebuffed all her suitors. Her eyes widened as she noted his friends, and then narrowed as they encountered Leo. She and the Marquis have never been on friendly terms and Nick was not actually sure why.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Miss Whitlow," the men replied, gaining their feet to offer her a bow.
"Please do not let me disturb you, I wished for a few minutes alone with my cousin."
"Of course, please excuse me," Nick said to his friends as he rose and followed Beth from the room. "What has upset you?" He took her arm when they reached the hallway, turning her to face him. "I know you well enough to see that something has."
"I have just found your wife in the halls as she attempted to find her room. She was pale and close to fainting, which she luckily did not do until I helped her to her rooms."
"Is she all right?"
"She is now, she is lying down."
"Then I must thank you for taking care of her, Beth."
She looked at him for several seconds, and Nick withstood the inspection. She would say what she wanted in her own time.
"Will you send her away, Nick?” Beth addressed him now, her expression as cool as her words.
“I have not yet thought the matter through.”
“And what of Grace, does she have a say in this decision, seeing as it is her life you are deciding?”
“When did she become Grace to you?”
“When I realized she was scared and alone in a house, and did not even know how to find her rooms, as no one had shown them to her."
Guilt settled on Nick's shoulders.
"I did not expect a wife, Beth, nor want one, especially not one who tricked me. Therefore, I would hope you understand that the adjustment is not all on her part."
Her features softened. "I do, cousin, but please do not be too harsh on her. I'm not actually sure now that she did trick you."
"Why do you think that?" Nick said. Her thoughts mirrored his own.
"Because the woman I just left is scared and lonely, and the devastation in her eyes was very real, Nick, and not something I believe could be contrived."
"I shall think about what you have said, cousin, but for now, thank you for looking after her," Nick said, kissing her cheek.
"I am leaving now, but will return in a few days. I plan to spend some time getting to know your wife better," she added before walking away.
"That woman is a viper," Leo said when he re-entered the room.
"And also my cousin, so have a care how you speak about her," Nick added.
They talked for a while longer, and then his friends left. Nick was once again alone to contemplate the fact that he now had a wife. Beth had said she was pale and shaken, possibly about to faint, and he wondered if perhaps Grace was ill and in need of a doctor. At the very least, he should take the time to check. Climbing to his feet, he left the room and headed for the stairs. Taking them slowly, he finally arrived at her door and knocked. When she answered, he opened it, and entered.
“Lord Attwood, I had expected my maid.”
She sat in the bed, her hair hanging in a long dark plait that rested on one breast. The nightdress she wore was white and seemed two sizes too big for her body, and buttoned to the neck with a high collar. She looked as he imagined his grandmother had when she’d sat in her bed awaiting her husband. Around her shoulders rested a grey shawl, and her hands clutched the covers. Pale and wide-eyed, she looked younger than her twenty-five years.
“My cousin told me you are unwell. I was checking to see if you had recovered.” His words sounded gruff, because he had no experience with women such as the one who was now his wife. He could see the exhaustion in her face, and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her cheeks were pale, and she still had a sickly tinge to her that told Nick she was not feeling as she should.
“Thank you, that is most kind of you, my Lord, but I am now recovered.”
She was lying.
“I will leave you then, Grace. But if you require anything further please ring the bell, and someone will attend you.”
“Are you… Do you…” her words trailed off.
“Do I what?”
“Will you want to…” she waved a hand about her.
“Ah,” Nick said, understanding what she was implying. “Yes, we will consummate this marriage, but I think not tonight, as you are feeling unwell.”
Her two top teeth nibbled her bottom lip, making her look even younger.
“Thank you, my Lord, for that.”
He thought about what Grace had given up. Her cousin, whom she obviously loved, and the life they had shared for so many years. The weight of guilt once again settled around Nick as he looked at her. He'd not thought about what this day would mean for her, because he had been consumed by his own anger and frustration.
“I am not an ogre, Grace, contrary to what you may have heard. We shall rub along well enough.”
“Shall we?” She was frowning now.
“These kinds of marriages happen all the time,” Nick said, wondering what the hell he was doing even having this discussion with her. He was close with five people; his friends and Beth, but no others. Closeness often led to weakness, and he never wanted to be seen as weak, and most especially not to this woman.
“Do they?” Her brown eyes were staring intently at him now.
“Yes,” he said abruptly. Then offering a bow, he murmured good night and left her rooms before he said something else that may give her reason to believe he was a man who shared confidences, and cared about the feelings of his wife.
Grace woke and lay in her bed, staring into the darkness. The hour would be early, as she always rose before the rest of the household, or had, she amended, when she lived with her cousin. She pushed aside the covers; she did not want to think about Harry, that path led to sadness. Reaching the windows, she drew the curtains and looked outside. The sun was slowly rising and the morning looked promising, as if the day to follow would be one without rain or clouds. Looking out over the gardens, she wondered what it would hold for her.
He’d come to her room last night, her husband, and said he was not an ogre, contrary to what she’d heard, and that they would consummate the marriage, however not last night. Did that mean they would tonight? Grace hoped not; in fact she hoped he forgot all about consummation and marital beds, and visited his mistress, which she was sure he had.
After washing and dressing, Grace discovered she was hungry, and why wouldn't she be after eating nothing yesterday? She was never one to miss a meal and had no plans to start now, so when her maid returned after removing her bathing water Grace asked her where the breakfast parlor was.
"I believe on the floor below, my Lady, but if you wish, I could have a tray brought up for you."
"No. Thank you, Bessie, but I need to find my way about, and to do that I would actually need to leave my room," Grace said, slipping her feet into slippers. She may not want to be married, but she was, and now that she was feeling more herself, she needed to make the best of it.
Leaving the room, she walked down the hall then descended the stairs, and found another maid.
"Would you be so kind as to direct me to the breakfast parlor?"
Following the maid, she walked through an open door seconds later and stopped.
The earl sat reading the paper, and she saw his surprise as he realized it was she who had entered the room. His hair was slightly damp and turned up over his collar. He wore a jacket of deep green with a pristine white shirt, and necktie with a pale gray waistcoat. He looked as alert and handsome as he had every time she had seen him.
"My Lady." He lowered the newspaper and gained his feet to bow.
"My Lord." Grace curtseyed and then felt her courage flee now she was actually standing before the man whom yesterday she had married. Color filled her cheeks as she turned to leave.
"Do you not wish to eat, Grace?"
"I do not wish to intrude," she replied, still looking at the door she had just walked through.
"Are you hungry?"
Reluctantly, Grace turned to face him once more. He was still standing, watching her steadily, while she moved from foot to foot and fidgeted.
"I am."
"Then sit and eat." He moved around the table and pulled out a chair, signaling for her to come forward.
"I—ah, thank you."
"I trust you slept well?" he then said, moving to seat himself once more.
It came naturally to him, these social niceties, whereas to Grace they were almost like a foreign language she had never quite mastered.
"Thank you, yes." Grace looked down at the skirts of her gray gown and frowned as she noticed a small tear. When she looked up again a man had entered the room. She presumed he was the butler.
He spoke quietly to the earl and Grace could hear a hint of an accent.
"Grace, this is my butler, Vidal. He is Italian, but speaks English well.”
She found a smile for the man who now stood beside her. He was her height with a great deal of thick brown hair and soft brown eyes.
"Hello, Vidal, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I please have some tea and toast?" Grace said in fluent Italian, much to the butler’s delight.
"Vidal will now be devoted to you, Grace. Is Italian the only language you speak?" The earl said after Vidal had left the room.
"No, my Lord."
"And?" he said, looking at her.
"And what?" Grace asked, returning his gaze.
"What other languages do you speak, Grace?"
"French, Spanish, German, and Russian."
His eyebrows rose. "Did your cousin teach you?"
Grace nodded, relieved that Vidal arrived at that moment with her tea. She was not a strong conversationalist at the best of times, but when her nerves were threatening to choke her, she was even worse.
They sat in silence, and she did not draw in a deep breath until the earl once again picked up his newspaper. Grace tried not to slurp her tea, but did not dare to eat her toast as she had no wish to make too much noise. Her appetite had suddenly fled anyway. When she was finished, she quickly regained her feet.
"Good day to you, my Lord." Grace did not wait for him to answer, instead hurrying from the parlor.
Reaching her room, she found Bessie tidying things.
"We shall leave now for my cousin's, so please meet me downstairs, Bessie."
When the maid had left, Grace quickly pulled on her walking boots, cloak, and bonnet. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now, so she would simply do as she normally did and spend her day with Harry. Surely the earl would not even know she had gone; and indeed why would he care anyway. She and Harry had much to do to find the letters that had been stolen from the house last week.
Leaving her room, she made her way down the stairs, and after a few false starts she found the front door, where Bessie stood waiting for her.
"May I call you a carriage, my Lady?" Vidal appeared before her.
"That will not be necessary, Vidal, good day."
He opened the door looking slightly confused, and Grace walked out followed by her maid. As she reached the bottom of the steps, she was able to draw her first deep breath of the day. They then made their way out the gates and down the road.
"Shall we be walking to Lord Harrington's, my Lady?"
"Do you know the way there, Bessie?" Grace questioned her maid. They had often walked places, but usually close to where Harry lived.
"I do yes," the maid nodded. "It will take us about twenty minutes."
"Excellent, lead on then." Grace would enjoy the exercise, especially after the anxiety of the last few days.
"Hello, Monty," she said to her cousin's butler as he opened the door to her and Bessie a short while later. "Is Lord Harrington still having breakfast?"
"He is, my Lady, and Miss Munn has also called."
"Excellent. Set me a place please, I'm starving."
Grace felt the last of the tension inside her start to ease as she walked down the familiar hallway, past the drawings that she had done for Harry and he had hung on the walls.
"Good morning, Ruth, cousin."
"Grace!" His smile was so sweet she felt like crying. Nipper came scurrying forward and leapt at her. She caught him and held his little quivering body close. Scruffy with stiff white bristling hair, the little dog had a black patch over one eye and one ear that flopped while the other stood up.
"You're here early, Ruth," Grace said, putting down the dog.
"I was passing and dropped Harry some of the fresh buns I got for father."
"How kind you are," Grace said, wondering when her cousin would realize that Miss Ruth Munn adored him. Of course, Harry was oblivious to anything when he was working on a project, but she still hoped that one day he would see the look of yearning in her friend’s eyes.
"Did you walk here with, Bessie?" Ruth asked.
"I did, and before you lecture me on my improper behavior, let me remind you I have always walked about London with my maid, That is not about to change just because I have married an Earl."
"Tis my fault," Harry sighed. "Grace has always done just as she wished."
"However, I rarely stray from the path society has set for me, Harry. Besides, no one is the least interested in my behavior."
"They will be interested in you now, Grace," Ruth said.
Dear lord, she hadn't thought of that when she'd left Lord Attwood's house. Now she was wed to him, there would indeed be a great deal of interest in her behavior.
"Perhaps next time you can take the carriage."
"Perhaps," Grace said. More changes were to take place in her life it seemed, and not for the better.
They talked for a while and then Ruth left, saying she must return to her father.
"Right then, we must eat quickly as there is a lot to do today," Harry said, taking the seat he had sat in every morning for the past three years. "I have set a man to investigating the theft of those letters from Mr. Zavorski, Grace, and hope to have some news from him tomorrow afternoon."
"It is strange though, don't you think, Harry?"
"Very, and not something we have had happen before."
"I only translated two of the letters, but I wonder if perhaps there is a deeper meaning behind them, something underhanded," Grace said, trying to remember exactly what was written in them and failing.
&
nbsp; "Yes, I had wondered that," Harry said. "But as we have other things to work on, there is little we can gain by speculation. Therefore, we must put it behind us."
"All right," Grace said, pulling some papers toward her.
Minutes later they were both working as if nothing had changed from yesterday morning. Pushing aside her doubts about leaving the house without telling her husband, she instead concentrated on what she loved doing.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nick spent the morning in his study, and was due to meet with his friends at Night Street at two o’clock. He would ask his wife to take tea with him before he left, because he was sure she would have questions after spending the morning acquainting herself with his household.
It would be a relief to turn that side of his life over to her. His staff was competent, but they still needed guidance. Now that would come from Grace; once she learned the way he liked everything run. Vidal and Mrs. Willows would show her over time.
"You wished to see me, my Lord?" Vidal appeared in his doorway.
"Yes, please tell my wife I will take tea with her before I leave for my afternoon appointments."
He would need to give her an allowance; some money for the things woman wanted to buy upon occasion, a book, or some such thing. Then there was the matter of her hideous clothing; that would need to be addressed at some stage also.
"Lady Attwood left the house just after her morning meal, my Lord, and has not yet returned."
"What?" Nick stared at his butler.
"She left, my Lord, but did not furnish me with her location."
"She has been gone for," he looked at the clock beside the door, "three hours and I am just now being notified?"
"I was unaware you did not know, my Lord." His butler looked pained.
"Did she take the carriage?" Nick could feel his anger rising.
"No, my Lord."
"Did someone collect her then?"
Vidal shook his head.
"Then how did she leave?" Nick had not yet made provisions for her to have a horse, and did not think her cousin had sent one over.
"Well, as to that, my Lord," Vidal was now looking extremely uncomfortable.
