His Saving Grace Page 2

Thomas, no longer able to contain his ire, also stood. "You speak rightly. What you are doing will serve you well. Even if it means crushing everybody else under your heels."

  Before Duke Mugsby could make the grand exit he was so obviously planning, Thomas spun on his heel and left the club. Too angry to sit in a carriage, he instructed the driver to return without him and began the walk home.

  As his long legs and wrath-fueled pace quickly propelled him, Thomas played the scene with Grace over in his head dozens of times, and each time he came back to one simple fact: Women will do anything to wed a high-ranking member of society, and a duke is almost as high as it gets. Every woman wants to marry a duke. Which one matters not. If a different duke had stumbled upon Grace in the library, she would have done the same thing. Her father had likely never said any of those terrible things to her. It had all been a ruse to get Thomas to hold her so they could be caught together with her reputation compromised beyond repair.

  Thomas was too angry to listen when his conscience nagged at him. You treated Grace no better than Mugsby behaved toward you. His fury, in fact, grew with each step he took.

  When Thomas arrived at his townhome, he found his valet packing for a trip. "Rupert, what are you doing?" he snapped.

  "You're to be wed in three days' time, Your Grace," Rupert answered. "We need to leave today if you have any hope of making it to your wedding."

  Stunned, Thomas sat on the edge of his bed. "Has it already been three weeks?"

  "You are forgetting it took us three days to get to London from Stafford, and it will take us three days to get back. That left you with two weeks here in London." Rupert's voice gave nothing away, but Thomas saw the barest hint of sympathy in his dark eyes. He had a nagging feeling the sympathy he saw was more for his intended bride than for him.

  "I'm to be wed." Dazed, Thomas considered his valet and friend. "I'm not ready to be a husband."

  "Which, I believe, is why you are fleeing to the continent and facing possible death at enemy hands, Your Grace." His voice dry, he said, "Because you'd rather that than look your wife in the face on a daily basis."

  Thomas's eyes snapped to Rupert's face, but the valet's expression was dispassionate. "You think I'm wrong to leave?"

  "I think perhaps you judge Lady Grace too harshly. You have known her for many years, and I don't believe you've ever found her to be deceptive."

  "Impulsive, nosy, opinionated, far too educated for a woman…" Then, shaking his head to rid himself of any tender thoughts he might have toward Grace, he said, "You weren't there, Rupert. You didn't see what happened. She trapped me and betrayed me."

  Thomas would have never considered her capable of such deceit, and that cut more deeply than all the rest. Perhaps if he'd seen it coming, if he'd suspected her of such duplicitous intentions from the start, he wouldn't feel as if his heart were bleeding.

  Chapter Three

  Grace watched from the window of her bedchamber. Today was her wedding day, and her husband-to-be had yet to arrive. She had been too upset this morning to attend church and had instead remained at home, claiming an ailing stomach. Her parents probably thought it was nerves. True, she was nervous. The maelstrom of emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach, though, could much more accurately be described as dread, fear, and… hope.

  At twenty-and-one, she'd known Thomas her entire life. He was five years her senior and had always been such an even-tempered person. Until that fiasco of a house party, he had treated her with kindness and patience her whole life. When other young men might have teased her or treated her like a bother, he had allowed her to tag along when fishing or hunting. While some might have told her to comply with her role as an earl's daughter, he had allowed her to speak her mind and discuss the topics of public policy in which she'd been interested.

  She had thought of him as a big brother who understood her. Her own brother was much older and had been away at school most of her childhood, and was now married and raising a family of his own at a different estate. Their relationship was cordial, but distant. Thomas had filled the void loneliness had created in her childhood.

  Grace didn't know what to make of the Thomas who had spoken so harshly and stalked out of the house. One thing was for certain. Her Thomas was no longer a childhood friend. He was a man now, and she needed to start thinking of him as one. He was classically aristocratic with his slender build that was a touch taller than the average man. And so angry. I wonder if he's gotten over that yet?

  A tap at the door caught Grace's attention. Her father poked his head around the edge and asked, "May I come in?" Grace, who had not sought him out in the weeks since the debacle, said nothing. "I need to apologize." Grace heard the words, but instead of responding right away, she studied him. He looked better than he had at the house party. He had the same wavy, greying hair and debonair clothes, but his color was better. His eyes, however, were sad.

  "For what?" Her father, too, had acted out of character that day. The cruel things he'd said to her had come as such a surprise. Had she been used to such harshness from him, she might not have been moved to tears. She understood that once Lady Appleton had made that scene, there was no way for the situation to be resolved short of a wedding. She found it hard not to blame him, for it was his fault she'd sought tearful solace in the library to begin with.

  Father must have a drinking problem I didn't know about. Being in his cups that day is the only way to explain his cutting words. Grace could find no other reasonable explanation.

  "It was hard on all of us when Thomas's father died." Confused by the mention of the late duke, Grace stared. Thomas had been nineteen when his father had died. As the heir, he'd inherited the title and duchy, and all the estates and responsibility that went with it. To make matters worse, Thomas had no brothers or sisters to help him shoulder the burden and grief, and his mother had disappeared into a world of mourning from which she hadn't emerged until at least three years later.

  "The duke was my best friend going all the way back to childhood."

  Thomas used to be mine. It appears Father and I have something new in common. We've both lost a best friend.

  "We spent summers at each other's houses as children. Then, as young men, we attended Eton together. I took it hard when he died."

  "I'm sure it was equally hard for Thomas to lose the father he loved so much." Sarcasm danced its way through Grace's words with little effort.

  The earl sighed and sat down. "We had always hoped you and Thomas would suit, that you would fall for each other and eventually get married."

  What?

  "That's why I never let you have a season in London."

  What?

  "Those terrible things I said to you at the house party — I would understand if you never forgave me. I didn't mean any of that. You are twenty-and-one, and I'd waited too long for Thomas. I was angry at myself and eaten up with guilt."

  Me and Thomas? What?

  Her father continued, the picture of contrition. "My own selfish plans had doomed my daughter to a life of spinsterhood in the country."

  At least he didn't say "courtesan."

  "That doesn't excuse what I said, but I want you to understand I was angry with myself and wrongly took it out on you. I failed you in the worst possible way a father can fail his daughter. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

  Grace, taken aback by his words, sat as well. "You wanted Thomas and I to wed?" Shock rattled around inside her mind so loudly she was surprised to get an entire sentence out.

  "I was coming to the library to tell you how sorry I was. When I found Lady Appleton carrying on the way she was, my first thought was to silence her. There were so many people already standing around gawking that I was at a loss. There was no graceful way to get you out of the situation. Despite the fact I'd always hoped you and Thomas would someday wed, I never would have forced you into it. All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy, and I believe marriage to Thomas will assure that.
He will be a good husband to you."

  "He thinks I lied and trapped him, Father. Thomas is anything but happy about this." Anxiety tugged at Grace like a puppy intent on destroying its master's favorite slipper.

  "It may take him a little while, but he will get over his anger." The earl sounded far more confident about the situation than Grace felt. "Keep on being who you are, and he will remember all the wonderful things he already knows about you."

  "I don't know how to handle his anger. I'm not used to it."

  "Grace, I want you to know I would never consider letting you wed him if I thought you would come to any harm. No matter how angry Thomas may be, he will never hurt you. He is a good man, so much like his father, and I am entrusting you into his care because I believe he will treat you well." His eyes twinkled as he added, "Besides, if I'm not mistaken, you have more than enough temper to match him."

  Did he have to remind me of that? I suspect that matching Thomas temper for temper will not serve me well at present.

  A sound from the courtyard drew Grace to the window. "I hope you're correct, Father. He's here, and I'm getting married."

  The absence of any letters from Thomas in the intervening weeks had convinced her that he would be arriving in a mood equally as foul as the one with which he'd departed. She hoped it would not be so, that he would have seen reason, but his silence and the dread pooling in her middle did not bode well for the day.

  I want to believe he is the good man I've always known, but what if I was as fooled by him as he claims to have been by me? What will my life be like if he truly is an angry, vengeful husband, if there really is no goodness left in him?

  "Grace…" The earl's voice trailed off as he stood. Looking at her father, she could see the conflicting emotions on his face.

  She would be leaving this house today a married woman, and she didn’t want to leave a cloud behind her when she did so. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she kissed her father on the cheek and said, "Don't worry about a thing. All is forgiven. I believe this is going to work out wonderfully. After all, Thomas has never once scolded me for reading the newspaper."

  Please, Lord, let me be right.

  Chapter Four

  Once Thomas arrived at the house, the family climbed into their carriage and left for the parish church. Thomas refused to ride with them and instead followed in his own carriage. He thought he had his reaction to Grace's duplicity under control, but the moment he'd seen her climbing into her family's carriage, bitterness again took control. Having festered for weeks now, his anger, like an infection, had spread and grown increasingly dangerous until it took the form of all-out rage boiling just beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to show itself.

  Thankfully, the ceremony was a brief affair. It was over before Thomas even had a chance to take in his surroundings. Grace, elegant in a dress the deep golden hue of a flaming sunset with matching flowers in her ebony curls, seemed uncertain, but didn't hesitate when it was time to say her vows.

  Thomas hoped she would remain tentative around him. After the way she'd ensnared him, he couldn't abide even the thought of having a conversation with her. On the three-day journey back from London, he'd had far too much time to think. Since all his thoughts had revolved around Grace, he'd felt as though she were riding with him the whole way, reminding him with each turn of the carriage wheels how she had managed to entrap him and how he had allowed himself to be ensnared because he had foolishly trusted her.

  When the ceremony concluded, the two carriages returned to the earl's estate, the home in which Grace had been reared. The custom was for the married couple to host a meal, referred to as the wedding breakfast. Thomas saw no point, though, and directed his footman to load two of Grace's trunks onto the carriage. "We leave at once," he said briskly, "so say your goodbyes."

  "What about the rest of my belongings?"

  "Don't you worry about a thing, Grace. I'll send the rest of your things on within a day or two," her father interjected.

  Grace gave both of her parents long hugs before following Thomas to the carriage with its ducal crest emblazoned across the side. He did not bother to wait for her or give her a hand up. Instead, he climbed into the carriage and waited while she pulled herself up into the conveyance. By the look on her face, he assumed the slight did not go unnoticed, for which he was glad. She might as well understand the type of life she'd stolen for herself.

  The carriage had not been traveling very long at all when Grace said, "Thomas?"

  Eyes closed, he refused to look at her. "What?" He told himself it was because he was too angry to look at her. That little voice of conscience that continued to haunt him, however, disagreed. You're afraid you'll see something in those luminescent green eyes that will tell you how wrong you've been.

  "I had no part in any kind of plot. What happened in the library was as much a surprise to me as it was to you."

  Thomas laughed harshly. "You'll have to be more convincing than that, Your Grace."

  After a few more minutes of silence, she spoke again. "Does it not strike you funny?" When he said nothing, she added, "My name, this silly title. I suppose you could call me 'Grace, Your Grace.' Wouldn't that be amusing?"

  "Absurd, more likely. I find nothing humorous in jesting about a title that has been in my family for generations, a title you have appropriated for yourself."

  ****

  Grace stared at Thomas, mouth agape. He'd not opened his eyes once. If he'd genuinely look at me, he'd see I hold no guile. Stubborn man! She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for everything that had occurred, that she would do her best to make him proud. The malice in his voice was a shocking setback. Three weeks away had clearly not allowed him to clear his head. Instead, this imaginary wound of his had festered. Taking her father's words to heart, she determined to do her best to show him each day that marrying her had not been a mistake.

  The carriage didn't turn into the entrance for Stafford. Surprised, she asked, "Thomas, where are we going?"

  "I tire of your familiarity. You may address me as Your Grace or not at all."

  The dread from that morning returned full force. Her stomach became a roiling pit of misery as she forced the words out. "Your Grace, where are we going?"

  His eyes remained closed, yet he smiled. It was a tight-lipped smile and appeared much more like a grimace of pain than a show of fondness. "Why, I'm taking you to your new home, of course."

  "Shall we not reside at Stafford?"

  "You, my dear, are going to make your home at an estate of mine north of Newcastle."

  Incredulous, she said "B-but that's in Northumberland!"

  "So glad to know the tutors you had growing up did not disappoint by providing a subpar instruction in geography. You are correct, of course." There was no mistaking the mockery in his voice as he said, "Newcastle is in Northumberland."

  "That's practically in Scotland!"

  The thin-lipped smile returned. This time Thomas opened his eyes, and what Grace saw there did nothing to alleviate the unrest in her midsection. "I trust you will make the most of your new home."

  "I don't understand, Thomas." He speared her with his eyes, and she corrected herself. "I don't understand, Your Grace."

  "Whether or not you understand is of no concern to me."

  Grace wanted to ask why he kept referring to it as her home and not their home. Northumberland was so far away. It had to be at least a three-day journey to get there.

  She was going to be cut off from the world and at the mercy of a man who despised her.

  ****

  Night approached, and the carriage pulled off the road at an inn. Because they'd left immediately after the wedding ceremony, she'd had nothing to eat since breaking her fast that morn. Grace had been afraid to ask about a meal while traveling. Thomas remained cold toward her, and she was still trying to figure out how best to handle that side of him. He was wildly different from everything she'd ever thought she knew about her friend and nei
ghbor.

  Perhaps he needs to be loved rather than handled?

  Grace was shaking her head at her own fanciful thoughts when the footman opened the door of the carriage and gave her a hand out. Thomas neither offered her an arm nor allowed her to precede him. She arrived at the counter of the downstairs tavern directly as Thomas left it to follow someone up the stairs. Trying not to be left behind, she bustled after them, her amber gown rustling in her haste.

  No, please, don't wait for me. I'll be fine down here in the tavern full of drunken men with not another woman in sight anywhere. Go on ahead to our room, Your Grace. Don't spare a thought for your wife.

  She arrived at the top of the stairs as Thomas went through a door into a bedchamber. Not sure if she should follow, she hesitated in the hallway. A woman exited the room Thomas was in and said to her, "Are you the duchess, then?" When Grace nodded, the woman said, "Follow me, Your Grace. Your chamber is this way."

  Separate rooms. He'd booked them into separate rooms. She didn't know whether to be relieved she would not be spending her wedding night with a bitterly angry Thomas or vexed she would be spending it alone. He's trying to hurt me on purpose, and it's working.

  The woman, no doubt the proprietor's wife, showed Grace her room, then excused herself. Looking around the small chamber, Grace realized she'd not thought to ask about dinner or a bath or even her belongings. A hard knock at the chamber door drew her attention. "Who is it?" she asked.

  "Your husband." The voice was stark and commanding.

  She opened the door, a smile pasted on her face. The smile died within seconds. Thomas's appearance matched his voice. His eyes remained glacial, and his mouth was drawn tight, lips thinned. He wouldn't even look at her. "You are to remain in your chamber until someone fetches you in the morning to leave. It's not safe for you below." He didn't even wait for her to acknowledge his words. As soon as he was done speaking, he shut the door on her. His steps quickly receded down the hallway. Grace was left with nothing but a sinking feeling. The longer she stood there at the closed door, the more that feeling grew, urging her to let it transform into blistering anger.