Intimate Deception (17 page)

Vincent saw the anger in Lady Wedgewood’s eyes and heard the determination in her voice. He knew he would never find out where Grace had gone simply by asking.

“What hold do you have on my sister? What pressure are you putting on her?”

Vincent rose and walked to the window. He stood with his back to her, his shoulders rigid and his hands clasped behind his back.

“I don’t know what it is,” she continued, her voice as harsh as he imagined it had ever been, “but I’ve felt for some time now there is something not quite right between you and Grace. As her sister, I feel it my responsibility to protect her in every way possible. I will not see her hurt.”

“And I would never do anything intentionally to hurt her,” he answered without turning around.

“Then what is between you that has upset her? Because she
is
upset. I have known so for some weeks now.”

“I need to speak with her, Lady Wedgewood. Please, tell me where she has gone.”

“I’m afraid nothing you have to say can possibly be so important it cannot wait. She promised she would be back in time for the dinner I am hosting next Friday night to welcome our youngest sister back from her honeymoon.”

Vincent shook his head. “I cannot give her that much time.”

The air crackled with tension. He knew he’d alienated Grace’s sister even more.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to. I can think of nothing so important that she cannot have the week she wants.”

The perfectly manicured garden beyond the window where he stood escaped his notice. Vincent looked but
saw none of the early splendid springtime flowers that would soon be in bloom. Nor did he notice two squirrels scampering from tree to tree as they chased each other. He saw nothing except Grace’s pale complexion, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the desperation when she looked at him. It should be obvious to her by now whether or not she was increasing. And if she was, he could not let her face it alone.

He turned. “I will ask you once more to tell me where she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry. As I’ve told you before, nothing can be so important that you need to bother her. You will simply have to wait until she returns in a week.”

He dropped his chin to his chest and breathed a deep sigh, not eager to tell Lady Wedgewood what he suspected. He knew Grace hadn’t spoken her fears either. But she’d left him no choice.

“There is something important enough.” Vincent faced Grace’s sister with all the regal bearing he’d been taught from the time he was old enough to walk. “There is the very distinct possibility your sister is carrying my child.”

The cup and saucer in Lady Wedgewood’s hand fell to the floor. Tea darkened her skirt. All color left her cheeks as both hands flew to her mouth to stifle her cry.

Vincent took one step closer to her, ignoring the scattered china lying at her feet. “If that is indeed the case, I don’t want Grace to be alone right now. Also, to avoid talk, it is imperative we marry as soon as possible. I have already obtained a special license and have made arrangements with Reverend Carrington to keep Friday afternoon free of any interruptions.”

The Marchioness of Wedgewood swallowed several times before she was able to speak. When she did, her voice was shallow and strained. “It’s not possible. Grace can’t be—”

Vincent held up his hand. “Suffice it to say, my lady, that there is a very good possibility.”

Lady Wedgewood seemed to sway.

“I do not divulge this information lightly, my lady. If there were any other way to gain the information I seek without exposing an embarrassment I am sure Grace intended to keep private, I would have done so.”

Lady Wedgewood clenched her hands in her lap. She was visibly shaken. “I didn’t know,” she said. “Grace didn’t even hint that…”

“I think she is still expecting a miracle of sorts. I’m afraid it will not come.”

The marchioness drew in a harsh breath, then leveled him with a very serious stare. “Are you hoping for a miracle, Your Grace?”

Vincent lifted his eyebrows. “I am a very practical man, Lady Wedgewood. I have never believed in miracles.”

“I see,” she whispered, her hands clutched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“We will therefore marry as soon as possible. Next Friday at the latest. I am sure Grace would appreciate it if her entire family were in attendance for such a special occasion. If it meets with your approval, perhaps you would consent to holding the ceremony here, and the dinner you had planned for that evening can be a celebration of sorts.”

“Of course.”

“Now if you will tell me where I can find your sister, I’ll be on my way.”

The Marchioness of Wedgewood wiped a stray tear from her cheek, then told him where Grace had gone.

Vincent pushed his mount over the soggy English countryside, ignoring the lack of sunshine and the heavy mist that came down harder with each passing mile. He was chilled to the bone. She should be thankful. Perhaps by the time he reached her the cold rain would cool his blazing temper.

But more than likely, it would only serve to irritate him further and inflame the anger growing inside him. Why the bloody hell had she left? What possible good would come from running away? He would never in a million years understand the female mind. Never understand what she thought to accomplish by avoiding him.

Vincent lowered his head over his horse’s neck to protect himself from the falling rain and berated himself a thousand times over for not anticipating that she would flee. But estate business had consumed his entire morning and most of the afternoon, and he’d been forced to send his apologies and miss their scheduled ride. It wasn’t until he’d gone to Wedgewood’s town house much later that he found out she’d gone.

He tried not to think of how angry he’d become when he realized she’d left him. Just as he forced himself to remember every reason he’d given himself to never search for a wife again. And he wouldn’t have. Except that she’d forced him to.

He thought of her, thought of the night she’d lain beneath him, given herself to him, and knew it was a memory that would have to last a lifetime. Once this babe was safely delivered—and dear God, but he prayed it would be—he would never lie with her again. Would never risk getting her with child again.

Just as he would never risk loving her. For the past month he’d courted her, danced with her, and talked to her. He’d laughed with her, held her, and made the mistake once of kissing her. He knew it would be ever so easy to fall in love with her. But that was one emotion he would never allow himself to feel again. He’d barely survived the loss twice. He wouldn’t go through the pain again.

Vincent pushed his horse faster. He was soaked to the bone, and the sooner he got there the sooner he would be warm and dry. And the sooner he could get this confrontation over.

He pulled his horse to a sudden stop and turned around when he realized he’d gone past the lane Lady Wedgewood told him would lead to the country manor where Grace had gone. He sat as straight in his saddle as the pouring rain would allow, then pulled on the reins and turned his horse around.

His horse had only taken a few steps when Vincent was jolted by a painful stitch in his side. A second later, a muffled shot echoed through the air. It took another moment for him to realize he’d been shot. A moment more until real fear consumed him.

Vincent clutched his hand to his side and looked to the right, to a small copse of trees. His eye caught a movement in the shadows, but he saw nothing except a white
blur moving through the trees. He looked again, but it was gone. Vanished as if it had never been there.

He tried to take a deep breath, but white-hot shards of pain spiraled through his chest, then shot down his arms to the tips of his fingers. He battled the overwhelming pain that consumed him, then after a momentary hesitation, he bent low and kicked his mount into a run.

Another shot rang through the air. It took every ounce of his strength to hold on to the saddle. Every ounce of stamina to keep from falling to the ground.

Vincent clutched his hand to his side and blood seeped through his fingers. Pain as hot as a burning poker consumed him.

The sky spun around him and he realized he was in danger of losing consciousness. He barely made it up the pebbled lane to the front of the manor house before his world went black and the earth came up to meet him.

“My lady, come quickly!”

Grace rose from the bed where she’d been resting and rushed across the room she’d taken as her own. For a moment the room spun precariously, and she reached out to steady herself. The feeling didn’t last long but was followed by a rush of panic. She knew dizziness was just another symptom of what she could no longer deny was wrong with her.

How could she ever face him now? What choice did he have but to marry her, to take her along with the child she was carrying?

A painful weight pressed against her chest. Every single waking hour she’d prayed she hadn’t conceived. Prayed she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life with a man who didn’t want her. With a man she’d deceived from the beginning.

A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She was glad she was here and not in London. Glad she would at least have a few days to come to terms with what she now knew was fact before she had to face him. Before she had to look at the resignation in his eyes. His resolve to do what was right even though he didn’t want to.

“My lady, hurry!”

She ran across the room and opened the door, confused at the anxiety she heard in Mr. Featherly’s voice.

Grace didn’t know them well, Herman and Maudie Featherly, but from the minute she’d arrived, their relaxed calmness had blanketed her like a soothing balm. She felt more in control of her life than she had since she’d seen Raeborn standing in the back of Caroline’s music room and knew she’d been discovered.

She rushed to the top of the stairs and looked down. Her heart leaped in her breast.

“Vincent?” she uttered, her voice a strangled choke.

“My lady. We found him in the drive. He’s been injured.”

Grace rushed down to meet them. “Vincent?” She brushed his wet hair from his forehead. “Where are you hurt?”

“It’s his side, my lady,” Herman volunteered.

Grace looked down at the blood staining his shirt and soaking through his jacket.

“Grace…”

“Shh, Your Grace. Don’t talk. We have to get you to a bed.”

“I…I…”

He didn’t get anything else out before a cough wracked his body and he doubled over in pain. Herman nearly lost his grip and staggered beneath Vincent’s weight.

“Don’t talk, Vincent. Can you make it up the stairs?”

“Yes…But I have something…to…”

“Hush. You can tell me later. We need to stop this bleeding.”

He reached out his hand to clasp her fingers, squeezing hard.

“No,” he said on a gasp. “Promise me…you won’t…leave.”

“No, Your Grace. I won’t leave you.”

“Promise…me.”

“I promise.”

Step by step they climbed upward, Raeborn helping as much as he could, but the loss of blood was taking its toll. He could barely lift his feet, and more than once his knees buckled and the four of them nearly went down.

When they reached the top, Grace ran ahead and opened the door to the room next to hers. She rushed inside and pulled down the covers on the bed.

“Put him here, Mr. Featherly. Maudie, please bring some water and bandages. And a needle and thread.”

“And I’ll bring that bottle of brandy Herman’s been keeping in the cupboard.” The housekeeper scurried from the room as fast as her short, plump legs would carry her.

Herman lowered Vincent to the bed, steadying him with one hand while pushing his jacket off his shoulders with
the other. “We’d best remove his shirt to see what damage has been done,” he said, removing Vincent’s clothing while Grace grabbed a towel from the stand and wet it.

When Vincent was naked from the waist up, Herman laid him down and pulled off his boots. “You’d best turn around, my lady, while I remove the rest of His Grace’s clothing. We need to get these wet things off him and warm him up before he takes a chill.”

Grace kept her back to the bed until Herman was finished, then turned around and placed a cloth on Vincent’s forehead to wipe away the perspiration.