Read His Saving Grace (Regency Refuge 1) Online
Authors: Heather Gray
Tags: #Historical Fiction, #Romance & Love Stories
His Saving Grace (Regency Refuge 1) (3 page)
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.
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 neighbor.
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.
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.