His Saving Grace Page 3

  It was safe enough below that you had no qualms about deserting me there when you went to your chamber. Now that you're going to be below stairs, I'm confined to my room. It's not about safety. This is about you wanting nothing to do with me! At least be honest about it.

  Hunger gnawed at her, but she decided to lie down and try to forget about it. Surely Thomas would order a tray sent up to her. He's not a cruel man. He's behaving this way because he's angry. He's not cruel…

  ****

  Grace woke to the muffled sounds from below. Things seemed quieter now than when she'd first lay down. Glancing at the window, she could see night was fully upon them. There was no clock in the room to tell her the time, but waiting till morning for food was not an option. Thomas won't care that I'm famished. All he'll care about is that I broke his rules. She stepped over to the chamber door and quietly opened it. I should stay in my room and let it go this time. Peeking out into the hallway, she saw no one. I'll just shut the door and return to my bed.

  Biting her bottom lip in uncertainty, she knew she simply had to eat, no matter what Thomas had told her. Grace stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. She was tiptoeing toward the stairs when a large form appeared out of the shadows. "Can I help you, Your Grace?"

  A squeak escaped her lips as she jumped in surprise. The man moved closer, and she recognized Thomas's valet. Good gracious! It should be illegal for people that large to lurk in hallways! "I was hoping to request a meal sent up. I'm so hungry I think I could eat an ox." Maybe two oxen.

  "Perhaps no more than a leg of mutton, Your Grace?" The valet's dark brown eyes sparkled with humor, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. "Return to your room, and I will see what I can fetch for you."

  "Thank you, Rupert. I'm ravenous. I thought Thomas would have a tray sent up, but…" Her words trailed off. Grace knew she shouldn't complain about her husband to his valet. Whatever she said would certainly make its way back to Thomas. Which — admit it — is precisely what you want. She bit the inside of her cheek to restrain herself from completing the rest of the sentence still hanging between them.

  Nodding toward her room, Rupert indicated she should return, which she did without further argument. Closing the door behind her, she waited for Thomas's valet to return with a repast. I hope Thomas didn't tell them to refuse me food. I'd even settle for moldy cheese at this point. Maybe.

  A soft knock came at her door not ten minutes later. She opened it to find Rupert standing there, a tray in his hands. "The kitchen had closed for the night, Your Grace, but the cook gave me what she had. I'm afraid it's not much."

  Grace's eyes roamed over the tray. There was bread and cheese, some cold roast beef, and a tankard of lemonade. It might not be much on most days, but to her it looked like the sweetest ambrosia. And there's no mold! "Thank you, Rupert, and be sure to thank the cook for me as well." Grace took the tray from him, allowing him to close her door. I learned my lesson the last time. Never again will I be found in a room alone with a man!

  Sitting down at a small table in the bedchamber, Grace bowed her head and said, "Thank you Lord for providing for my needs. Please soften Thomas's heart. Show me how best to be the wife he needs." Then she devoured the food on the tray, knowing no one could dare accuse her of being ladylike.

  As she finished off the meal and drank her lemonade, she wondered what tomorrow would bring. It was bound to be another long day in the carriage with Thomas. If I'd known we weren't going to his estate in Stafford, I'd have brought a book. At least then I could have had something to occupy my hands while pretending to ignore him all day. With a sigh, Grace climbed into bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep will be enough to fuel my patience on the morrow.

  She would have loved to remove her dress and sleep in nothing more than her chemise, but she could not reach the buttons, and she didn't dare risk tearing it. Thomas had allowed the footman to bring no more than two trunks, and she had no idea what was in those trunks. Heaven help her if she got all the way to Northumberland only to discover she had the dress on her back and two trunks full of household goods her mother had insisted she'd want.

  It might serve him right if I traipsed around the house in nothing more than my chemise and slippers. Or a dress fashioned from candlesticks and embroidered pillows.

  Chapter Five

  Grace woke to banging on her bedchamber door. "Who is it?" she croaked, her throat parched.

  "We leave in ten minutes. Be downstairs, or we go without you!"

  So much for hoping he'd wake in a better mood. Grace did the best she could to wash away the night's sleep before rushing down the stairs to meet her husband.

  Rather than Thomas, she found Rupert. "This way, Your Grace," he said, allowing her to precede him to the carriage. He gave her a hand up, then indicated a small basket by her feet. "I took the liberty of having the kitchen prepare something to eat in case we don't stop until night again."

  I think I may have found an ally in the midst of this fiasco.

  "That's so kind, Rupert. Thank you. His Grace and I appreciate it."

  Rupert's brown eyes flitted away before coming back to meet hers. "His Grace decided to ride his horse today. He's already left."

  Oh. The food basket is about pity, not camaraderie.

  "I see." Fighting the feeling of rejection, Grace said, "I didn't realize we had his horse with us."

  "Someone fetched Hero for him yesterday when we passed by Stafford."

  Grace put a smile on her face and hoped Rupert wouldn't be able to see how hurt she was by Thomas's actions. "I suppose I shall have all the food to myself then!"

  Admit it. Pity food is still better than no food.

  ****

  "Blasted woman!" Hero, Thomas's horse, twitched his ears in response. "She is not entitled to make me feel guilty for not providing her with a change of clothes!" He took Hero's snort as agreement. "And how dare my valet make me feel shamed for not seeing to her needs? How was I supposed to know she was hungry?"

  Thomas did not allow the nagging sense of wrongdoing to win. He had gone back below stairs the night before and eaten a wonderful supper. Then he'd ordered a bath to his room, cleaned up, gotten a good night's sleep, and put on fresh clothes that morning before going back down to break his fast. "All she had to do was speak up rather than cower in her room and wait until dark to try sneaking below!"

  Hero sidestepped, and Thomas patted his shiny midnight neck. "Sorry, old boy. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you. Let's enjoy this ride today. I'll try to remember she needs food when I order her room tonight." Knowing she would no doubt appreciate a bath as well, he decided giving in on one point was more than enough. She'd simply get dirty the following day when they traveled again anyway.

  "And for the record," he said to his horse, his voice forceful enough to convince even himself, "I am not being unreasonable."

  ****

  Night again began to close in on them as they pulled into the yard of an inn. Rupert, who had been riding above with the driver, opened the door and briefly told her she needed to remain in the carriage while he checked to make sure Thomas had arrived. Maybe the long ride put him in a better frame of mind. Or he got thrown from his horse and struck mute. A silent Thomas… now that's a thought worth smiling about.

  In another couple of minutes, the coach door opened wide. This time it was Thomas standing there. Startled, she stared for a moment before finding her voice and saying, "I'm so glad to see you arrived safely, Your Grace."

  "Get out."

  Make a note. Riding his horse does not improve Thomas's disposition.

  Climbing out of the coach was awkward without someone to assist her, but Grace managed to get her feet down onto the ground. She was straightening her dress as best she could when Thomas said, "We have a problem."

  "Oh?" she asked, looking up into his belligerent blue eyes. I really do miss the days of twinkling eyes.

  "The inn is booked. I was able to procure but one r
oom." His voice dripped resentment the way a hunting dog drips water after a bath — she felt covered head to toe in it.

  "I suppose I'll be sleeping in the coach, then?" she asked, making only the smallest effort to rein in her own hostility. So much for my decision to return his anger with kindness and his ill manner with my own polite one.

  Ignoring her question, he said, "As distasteful as I find it, we shall be forced to share a room."

  Trying to swallow the self-doubt assailing her at his words, she nodded briskly and said, "Then we shall make the best of it, assuming you don't snore too loudly. Lead the way." It hurt last night because he didn't want to share a room. It hurts tonight because… he still doesn't want to share a room.

  Thomas led her through the tavern and to the stairs. The room they'd been given was larger than the one she'd had the night before. The bed, though wider than the one she'd slept in at the previous inn, seemed to shrink before her very eyes when she thought of sharing it with Thomas, until it appeared barely fit for a small child. Certainly two adults could not fit at all! Putting on the same smile she'd worn that morning for Rupert, she said, "This will do nicely."

  She didn't know what to make of it when Thomas glared at her with his piercing blue eyes before leaving the room. Grace stood there staring at the closed door and wondered if there would be a meal tonight. She was again grateful for the basket Rupert had provided that morning. Not a morsel remained.

  When a soft knock came at the door, she asked, "Who is it?"

  "I've got yer bath water," a rusty voice said from the other side.

  Hurrying to the door, Grace swung it wide, allowing a short, rotund woman with fading blonde hair to carry a tub into the room. A man was behind her with buckets of steaming water. He was as tall as she was short and had a pock-marked face and kind smile. "That looks heavenly!" Grace exclaimed, her smile genuine this time. Maybe he's softening after all.

  "We've got more buckets acomin'. Don't go getting into it yet."

  "Of course not," Grace replied while hiding her smile at the mild scolding. "I'll wait for you to tell me you're done."

  Bucket after bucket came in until the tub was three-quarters full. Then everyone began to back out of the room. Grace stood there, panic setting in. I can't get out of this blasted dress without help! Surely the woman realizes that. Thomas hadn't allowed her to bring a lady's maid. "Pardon me," she said to the woman who had done the talking. When she got a gap-toothed smile in return, she said, "I — I don't have anyone to help me out of my dress. Could you possibly help me with the buttons in the back?"

  "Oh, Your Grace, you're not goin' t' want the likes o' me touching yer fine clothes. I'll let His Grace know 'e's needed. I'm sure 'e won't mind a bit."

  Will he even come?

  Grace swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. What else could she do? Should she order the woman to unbutton her dress? That hardly seemed fair. Having spent little time around members of the ton, Grace felt wholly inadequate in her role as duchess. She dared not do anything that might embarrass Thomas. He was already holding so much against her.

  Only minutes had passed when a knock came at the door. Expecting it to be Thomas, she opened it wide. When she saw Rupert standing there, she blushed. Thomas didn't send his valet up here to undress me! Did he?

  "The proprietor's wife said you needed Thomas, but he is otherwise occupied. Is there something I can help you with? Do you need anything from below?"

  Thank heaven! I'd have succumbed to a fit of the vapors if Thomas had told Rupert to…

  Mortified, Grace said, "No. I need nothing from below. Are you sure Thomas is unable to lend me a hand?"

  "I'm afraid he is not available," the valet answered.

  Pulling that official smile back out and pasting it on her face, Grace said, "I see. Thank you for checking to see if I needed anything."

  "Are you sure everything is all right?"

  Of course it's not all right!

  "Everything is about as grand as it shall get, I imagine," she said before closing the door.

  Maybe the bath isn't even for me. Would Thomas have ordered himself a bath while ignoring my needs? I wish I thought the answer was no.

  Grace longingly admired the tub of water before throwing herself on the bed and crying herself to sleep, a pillow hugged tightly against her chest. Even she couldn't tell if her tears were from self-pity, sadness, or anger.

  ****

  Thomas had allowed Grace enough time to bathe. He was bringing a tray of food for her as well. When he opened the door to their room, he found the room quite dark. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust, he finally saw Grace lying on the bed, presumably asleep. Locating the table, he set the tray down. Then he lit some candles and stoked the waning fire so he could see his way around. The truth was, he'd ordered a bath for her only because he'd also wanted one and couldn't very well force her to skip it if the tub and water were right there in the room.

  Looking more closely, he saw the cake of soap appeared untouched. The water was crisp and fresh as if the tub had scarcely been filled. Dipping his finger in, he felt how cool it was and knew it must have been sitting there for a time. The towels were also untouched. Had Grace fallen asleep before she could bathe? Rupert had said something about her needing assistance, but he'd been too busy ignoring his wife's existence to pay any attention.

  Thomas marched over to the bed and shook Grace's shoulder. "Wh-at is it? Is it time to l-eave already?" Grace was hiccupping, which meant she'd more than likely been crying. Despite her theatrics that day in her father's library, she was not the type of girl to waste a lot of time on tears, at least not in Thomas's experience prior to that fateful house party.

  Fighting the urge to feel like a cur for every unkind word he'd said to her over the past days, Thomas kept his words brief, saying, "I brought something to eat. I thought you would have taken your bath by now."

  "I asked the lady to f-etch you, but Rupert c-ame instead."

  "What did you need that Rupert couldn't assist you?" The last thing he needed was a clingy and demanding wife.

  Looking at Grace closely for the first time since they'd said their vows, he saw a drawn face. Her black hair served only to emphasize the shadows under her eyes, as well as in them. She was wearing the same dress she'd worn to their wedding. Blast it all, now what's wrong? In less time than it would have taken him to ring a bell for tea, she'd gone from an ashen complexion to a flaming one.

  "I asked the lady who br-ought the bath for help, but she said she c-ouldn't and that she'd get you, but then your va-let came instead, and I couldn't as-k him."

  "Grace, if you don't tell me what you need, I can't do anything about it." Frustrated, Thomas ran a hand through his mocha hair. He'd secretly hoped she'd be asleep when he arrived, but he hadn't expected the unused tub. If it weren't for that, he'd have left her to her slumber.

  The words tripped out of her mouth as if she wasn't quite sure how to say them. Her voice wavered between chagrin and bravado as she said, "I can't get out o-f my dress."

  Understanding dawned as he gazed from Grace to the bathwater and back to Grace again. Sighing, he stood up. "Hold on a moment," he said.

  Thomas tugged the filled tub over to a corner of the room and moved the screen to afford a measure of privacy. Then he commanded her, "Stand up." When she did, he gently spun her so her back was to him, and he deftly unbuttoned the buttons along the back of her dress. He tried not to notice the soft skin peeking out above her chemise, the way her raven hair was falling out of its pins, or the delicate complexion of the skin along her neck and shoulders where the shimmering dress dipped. Once he got the gown unbuttoned, he untied the stays of her corset. Then he gave her his back and said, "Go ahead and take a bath. I'll see if we can find a gown for you to wear tomorrow, or if we can get this one cleaned in time for our departure."

  He heard Grace moving around behind him and tried not to picture what she would look like climbing out of her voluminous dr
ess. It had been her wedding dress, and she'd been stuck in it for two days. He refused to let himself imagine the look of pleasure on her face as she was finally freed from it. He tried to avoid it, but he nonetheless noticed the dress was beautifully crafted and adorned with flowers for her special day. The burnished gold was a lovely color that became nothing less than alluring when worn by Grace.

  When he heard the water sloshing, he turned to see she'd laid her dress on the bed. Without a word to her, he grabbed it and went in search of Rupert.

  Reality was setting in. He had a wife. And she was in his room. Naked.

  ****

  Grace sat in the tub and relished the feeling of the cool water against her skin. She was having difficulty processing the change in Thomas's behavior. Was her Thomas back for good, or would the acerbic Thomas make another showing? Trying not to let her hope grow too much, she concentrated on washing herself. Getting the grime of two days' travel off her body and out of her hair felt wonderful. Even in the long-since cooled water, the simple action of bathing was a boon to her soul, a soothing reminder that not everything in her world had been turned upside down.

  Inspiration struck, and, unable to resist, she hastily scrubbed her chemise with soap and rinsed it before wringing it out and draping it over a chair in front of the fireplace, then settling back into the tub. Here's hoping it dries quickly! Even if the water wasn't the cleanest by then, at least the soap would wash away the smell of carriage and sweat.

  While she'd liked this Thomas more, with his caring blue eyes as he'd told her to stand and the gentle touch with which he'd undone the back of her gown for her, she hoped he didn't hurry back.

  I'm not sure I'm ready to face him with nothing but a wet chemise and false bravado.

  ****

  Thomas stayed downstairs as long as he dared. It had already been late when he'd gone up the first time. Now the place had emptied of all but him and the gangly proprietor. The man's wife had told him she could try to clean the gown, but would likely ruin it as she wasn't used to such exquisite material and delicate stitching. Thomas had instead dispatched the faithful Rupert into the village to wake the local seamstress and see if she had anything on hand that was suitably sized. A quick search of Grace's trunks had revealed a plethora of undergarments, books, and other household items, but no outer garments for the duchess to wear.