Intimate Deception (27 page)

G
race stood before the mirror while Alice fastened the tiny pearl buttons that ran the length of her gown. With each pull from the back, the emerald-green material stretched tight across the front—too tight.

“Enough, Alice. Unfasten it and bring me the peach gown. It is looser.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Grace stepped out of her gown and studied herself in the mirror while Alice went for the next gown. She was only in her fourth month, and already she’d grown so much that hardly any of her clothes fit. Why couldn’t she be like Caroline? Her babe would be delivered in less than two months, and only now was she forced to go into confinement. Grace would be lucky to last another two weeks.

“You’re going to be late.”

Vincent’s voice interrupted her from the door that separated their two bedrooms, and she turned.

“Do you want to stay home, Grace?”

Grace looked at him leaning casually against the door frame. He was so handsome it stole her breath. “No. This is Caroline’s last evening out before her confinement. I promised her we’d attend the opera with her and Wedgewood.”

“You’re sure.”

Grace smiled. “Of course. I just can’t decide what to wear.”

“I see.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe and stepped into the room.

He was nearly dressed, his pristine white linen shirt molding to his broad shoulders and his white satin cravat tied to perfection around his neck. Grace had to hold herself from walking into his arms.

A frown creased his forehead. “Aren’t you well?”

“I’m fine,” she said, sliding a smile onto her face. She tried to hold it in place while his gaze moved to her stomach. To her thickening waist.

“I think I’m not going to make it as long as Caroline before I am forced into confinement.” The frown on his face deepened. “I think our babe wants the world to know he’ll arrive before his time.”

Vincent raised his eyebrows and gave her an evaluative look. “I think I will send for the doctor again tomorrow.”

Grace’s eyes opened wide. “I just saw him last week. All he does when he comes is rock back and forth in his shiny black boots with his hands locked behind his back and ask me a lot of very embarrassing questions. Caroline won’t even let the man near her. She says even Anne knows more about birthing a babe than he does, and she hasn’t had her first babe yet.”

“Yet?”

Grace smiled. “She’s not sure, but she thinks perhaps. She has been married nearly five months, after all.”

A little of the color drained from Vincent’s face. She knew he needed a healthy dose of reassurance. “I’m fine, Vincent. Perfectly fine.”

“You’re still ill in the mornings.”

“Not always.”

“More than you should be.”

“It won’t last much longer. I’m nearing my fifth month. The sickness is almost always gone by then.”

“Perhaps we should go to the country?”

“Not yet, Vincent. I want to stay in London as long as possible. Caroline has decided to have her baby here, and I want to be with her when it comes.”

Grace saw the shocked expression on Vincent’s face, the look of concern.

“I don’t know, Grace. I don’t think—”

Grace held up her hand. “I have helped with the birthing of nearly every one of my nieces and nephews, Vincent. I’m not about to miss this one. Besides, Caroline promised she would be here when my time came too.”

Grace could see the anxious expression on his face, his fear almost palpable. She knew every day of her pregnancy was a torture for him. That he compared her illness and discomfort to what he’d experienced with Angeline and Lorraine. And the comparisons scared him to death.

Oh, she wished her pregnancy would be easier. Francie had two babes and wasn’t ill one day with either of them. Why couldn’t Grace be like her?

Grace looked at him, at his outward show of bravery. But beneath the surface she recognized his concern and worry. It was almost a tangible thing. His fear a living, breathing monster that haunted him day and night. She’d give anything to erase it, to make it go away.

She knew how hard he tried to separate himself from his fears. How miserably he failed.

Without hesitation, she walked to him, stopping only when her half-clothed body leaned against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. His arms instantly enclosed her in a tight embrace.

“Do you remember my promise to you, Vincent?”

“Yes, Grace.”

“I promised to give you a healthy son, and together we would raise him to be a fine young man.”

Vincent’s heart pounded beneath her ear.

“I also told you not to worry. I promised you I would be fine because I have enough courage for the both of us.”

His hands moved down her arms and over her body. She sighed in contentment. “Do not doubt me, Vincent. I need your strength. And you need my courage. Just know this. I have no intention of allowing anything to happen to me. How could I, now that I’ve found you?”

She held him tighter and let his strength seep into her.

“How did I survive before you, Grace?”

“Very poorly, I’m sure.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, his kiss tender and filled with a wealth of emotion. Then he deepened his kiss, and Grace knew if they were to have any chance of meeting Caroline at the opera, she had to push him away.

“You’d better leave now, Vincent. I’m sure Alice is standing on the other side of the door, waiting for you to be gone so she can help me finish dressing.”

“We could stay home, you know.” There was a gleam in his eyes when he looked at her.

“No, we couldn’t. Now leave me.”

“Very well.” He walked to the door.

“Vincent?” She called out to him, stopping him before he left.

“Yes?”

“Did you find him?”

She saw the surprised look on his face he tried to hide. “Find who?”

“You know very well who. Fentington. I know you went out again this afternoon to find him.”

“Who told you I went to find him?”

“No one had to tell me. I know that is what you have been doing for weeks now.”

Vincent hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I didn’t find him. No one’s seen him since before we married.”

“Maybe he’s gone into hiding.”

“Perhaps.”

“But you don’t think so, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

He waved his hand through the air as if he wanted their discussion to end. And Grace would let it. For now.

“You’d best get dressed, wife. Before I decide the little you’re wearing is to my advantage.”

Grace laughed. “Out. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Grace placed her hand over her stomach and watched him leave the room. She prayed he would never find Fentington. She knew Vincent would kill him if he did. She didn’t want Fentington’s death on their heads.

But she didn’t want Vincent to be in danger. And she knew as long as Fentington was out there, Vincent was.

Vincent listened to the duet being sung at the end of the second act of Verdi’s
Rigoletto
, but he wasn’t really hearing the music. He was reliving the scene with Grace in her bedroom before they’d left. Reliving the fear that sucked the air from his body when he noticed how much the babe inside her had grown. And she hadn’t even reached her fifth month.

Grace sat in front of him in the Raeborn box. Her sisters, Lady Caroline and Lady Josalyn, sat on either side of her. The men sat in chairs behind them, Wedgewood and Carmody on either side of him. Vincent tried to concentrate on the performance but couldn’t. His gaze focused on his wife, comparing her with her sisters. She was the smallest of the three, her shoulders narrower, her build slighter. And yet he’d already seen how big the babe inside her was growing.

A sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead. He realized again how afraid he was for her. How much he’d come to care for her.

How had he let this happen? How had he let her become so important to him when he swore he would not? He more than anyone knew the risks a man took by giving his heart to a woman. He more than anyone knew the heartache of losing someone you cared for. Yet he’d done it. He’d come to care for Grace even though he’d vowed not to.

He couldn’t wait to escape the small enclosure of their opera box. When the act was finished he stood with Wedgewood and Carmody. He needed to step outside to let the cool air clear his head. Grace and her sisters decided to stay above while the men stretched their legs.

“I heard a bit of news you might be interested in, Raeborn,” Wedgewood said as they walked down the winding stairs to the lobby below.

Vincent gave Wedgewood a sidelong glance, indicating his interest. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he led the way out the lobby doors to a less crowded area where they would not be overheard.

“Pinky said he ran into Fentington the other day quite by accident.”

Vincent felt his pulse race. Although Baron Pinkerton was not known to stay on the sober side, his facts were usually quite accurate. “Where?”

“Pinky was leaving a less reputable establishment he frequents in a seedier part of town and saw Fentington come out of one of the brothels down by the wharf. Pinky said he looked like the very devil, his clothes shabby and unkempt. As if he hadn’t changed in a week or more. Or bathed either.”

“Did Pinky talk to him?” Vincent asked, every nerve in his body sharpening.

“He tried. But Fentington was in no shape to carry on a conversation. Just spouted his religious piety and railed a few accusations, blaming society for turning its back on him. You in particular for causing his downfall. Pinky said there was a wild look in his eyes and…”

“Go on, Wedgewood,” Vincent said, fighting the anger building inside him.

“Well, he told Pinky you’d get what was coming to you. And he’d be there to see you get it.”

“What did he mean by that?” Carmody asked, reaching for a glass of champagne. “That sounds like a threat to my ears.”

Vincent reached for a glass too. “It is.”

He took a long sip, then told his two brothers-in-law about someone shooting at him and about the fire.

“Bloody hell, Raeborn,” Carmody said. “Why didn’t you tell someone? We’d all have been looking for the man. He’s obviously more dangerous than anyone realizes.”

Vincent finished his glass of champagne, listening to Wedgewood and Carmody discuss Fentington’s instability, discuss the options Vincent had if he couldn’t prove who’d shot him, or who’d tried to burn Grace and him in their sleep. He knew in the end there would only be one choice left to him. The man had already tried to kill him twice. He didn’t want to take the chance he’d succeed the next time.

The signal sounded for the start of the performance, and Vincent walked back to his box, barely listening while Wedgewood and Carmody continued to make plans to trap Fentington. When he reached his box, he stepped inside and looked ahead just as Grace turned to glance over her shoulder. Their gazes locked and her lips curved into a magnificent smile. His heart leaped to his throat.

He walked to his chair behind her, but before he sat, he reached out his arm. He needed to touch her. Needed to feel her flesh against his.

He placed his hand on the warm skin at her shoulder at the curve of her neck and saw her cheeks color. Without hesitation, she gently rested her gloved hand atop his. Then slowly turned her hand beneath his, palm to palm, and pressed his hand to her cheek.

Vincent’s body reacted with a need that was painful. This was how it always was when he was near her. No matter
how hard he’d tried to keep from loving her, it was too late. He wanted her with a desperation he couldn’t control.

He sat down in his chair and barely listened to the end of the performance, his thoughts centered on a few hours from now when he’d have his wife in his arms, when he’d be a part of her. A few hours from now when they’d be alone together, just the two of them.

The performance came to a riveting conclusion, and the crowd rose to their feet in appreciation. Vincent was never so glad to have an opera end in his life. He stood and held out his arm for her to take.

“It was wonderful, wasn’t it, Vincent?” Grace said as he pulled her closer to him than was needed.

“Yes. Wonderful.”

She laughed as if she knew the scant attention he’d paid to the opera. As if she knew where his thoughts had strayed for the last hour or more. As if hers had gone there too.

They made their way down the winding stairway and across the large lobby. The crush waiting outside was huge, as usual, but Vincent led their little group away from the entrance to await their carriage. He didn’t mind so much having to wait, as long as he could hold Grace next to him. As long as she was beside him, touching him.

As usual she seemed to have a lot to discuss with her sisters. He was always amazed at how there was never a lull in their conversation when any of them were together.

He looked down the street and saw their carriage approach. He stepped closer to the street and loosened his grip on Grace’s arm to hail his driver. His driver signaled, and Vincent stepped back to look in the opposite direction.

A carriage came toward them at a steady pace. Vincent gave it a second glance, then turned back to where his party waited.