Intimate Deception (29 page)

“Love me,” she whispered against his mouth.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

From the day she’d forced him to marry her she’d known how hard he’d struggled to keep from caring for her. From the day he’d taken her as his bride she’d known how determined he’d been to protect his heart. And tonight she realized how completely he’d failed.

She saw it in his eyes, in the fear on his face when he thought she might be hurt. In the relief when he realized she was safe. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, she knew the emotion was there. Knew he’d come to love her. And she knew how much that knowledge frightened him.

He moved over her and she ran her fingers over the rippling muscles across his shoulders and down his arms. She lifted her hand and brushed an errant strand of his dark
hair from his forehead and cupped her hand to his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble against her palm. It still amazed her. Everything about him still amazed her. And even if he wasn’t brave enough to admit his feelings, she was.

“I love you, Vincent. I always will.”

G
race strolled down the path of the garden behind their London town house. This path led to a bubbling fountain next to a trellised archway covered with creeping roses in full bloom. She loved it here. Loved the flowers that bloomed in riotous colors all summer and that now were, in late July, even more plenteous. It was the one place she could come to forget about Fentington and escape the worry that someday he’d find Vincent and hurt him.

It had been two months since anyone had seen him. Two months since the night of the opera, when someone had pushed her into the street, and even though Vincent assured her she had nothing to worry about, she knew it was only a matter of time until something happened. She knew he was waiting until he found the perfect opportunity to strike. The perfect chance to do the most harm.

As if the babe growing inside her felt the same fears, it kicked hard against her side, and she gasped. When the pain subsided, she hooked the basket she’d brought with her over her other arm and reached down to pick some yellow and red carnations. They were in full bloom and called out to her, begging to be a part of the centerpiece for the intimate dinner she’d planned for tonight, just for Vincent and herself.

She picked one red flower, then quickly straightened with a jerk and rubbed her stomach where the babe’s feet kicked against her again. Oh, he was an active babe, turning and kicking and moving constantly.

During the night he seemed to be worse. Sometimes the babe was so restless she had to get up. Occasionally she was lucky and Vincent didn’t notice she’d left their bed. But often he missed having her next to him and got up with her.

Even though she hated it when she disturbed his sleep, she liked those times best. He’d sit with her in the oversize rocker he’d had brought up to their room and hold her in his lap with his hand resting on top of her bulging stomach. Then, when the babe settled down, he’d lie with her on the bed and hold her close to him.

She felt another strong jab to her side and rubbed her stomach again. She was nearing her seventh month now and was huge in comparison with how big any of her sisters had been.

Her pregnancy hadn’t been easy so far. Oh, how she wished it had been. Not for her sake. But for Vincent’s.

She knew he was worried. She saw it in his eyes when he didn’t think she saw him watching her. His fear was palpable each time he touched her stomach, every time he took note of how big his child inside of her was growing. The anxiety she saw in his eyes was a debilitating emotion, and no amount of reassurance from her made it go away.

Grace placed her hand on her stomach and rubbed the hard mound where feet kicked her again. “You’re a strong, healthy babe,” she whispered, smiling down at her
stomach. “I can’t wait for you to meet your father. You’ll be ever so pleased with him.”

The babe kicked again. “But I am going to scold you a little for all the discomfort you caused me. Quite inconsiderate, you know.”

Grace smiled when her stomach settled, then bent over to pick some of the flowers. She only had about half the amount she wanted before she had to stand up to stretch her aching back. That occurred more and more, the bigger she got. Her back ached, and often the only chair that helped was one of the straight-backed wooden chairs in the formal dining room.

Grace rubbed her back with one hand and held her basket with the other, thankful none of the servants were close enough to see her. She knew she was not at all attractive right now. Hadn’t been for a month or more.

“May I help you, Grace?”

Grace turned her head to see Vincent sauntering down the walk, the buttons of his jacket loose but his cravat still tied around his neck.

“I’m trying to pick a few more of these flowers, but your son has decided to be extremely active this afternoon. Either that or he hasn’t developed a liking for our local flora and will have to be instructed on its beauty.”

“I will mention it to him at our first meeting,” Vincent said, placing his hands on her shoulders and pressing his mouth to hers.

“I insist that you do,” she said, reaching up to kiss him again. “And since you asked, would you please cut some of those pink carnations? I have a special dinner planned for tonight and they will look perfect on our table.”

“A special dinner?”

“Yes. For just you and me. With all our favorites.”

Vincent laughed. “And what are
our
favorites today?”

“Peach cobbler and rice pudding and cherry pie. And that chocolate dessert Cook makes so well.”

“I didn’t think you liked peach cobbler.”

“Not always, but I’m just suddenly very hungry for it.”

“I see,” Vincent said, reaching for another carnation. “And what else will you be serving?”

“I don’t know. I told Cook to surprise us.”

“I see.” Vincent laughed, then led her over to the low stone wall surrounding the fountain. “You are beautiful, Your Grace,” he said, setting the basket on the ground.

Grace laughed. “I am not. I am monstrously ugly, like a huge whale I’ve seen in pictures.”

“Hardly.”

He sat down beside her and draped one arm around her shoulders. He smelled all male, and Grace breathed in the clean aroma of the outdoors and leather from the horse he’d been riding. She knew he’d gotten some information concerning Fentington and was curious as to what it was.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “So what have you been doing today?”

“I went to see Madam Genevieve.”

Grace lifted her head with a start. “Hannah?”

“Yes. I wanted to talk to her about her father. I wanted to see if perhaps she could give any insight as to where he might be hiding.”

“Could she?”

He shook his head. “She said she hasn’t seen him or heard from him since the day she left his home fifteen years ago.”

Grace felt Vincent’s arm tighten around her shoulder.

“I think this Parker fellow Germaine sent to me is right. I think Fentington has left the country. That he’s not even in England right now,” he said.

“Then maybe he will never come back,” she said hopefully.

“Maybe.”

“But you don’t think so, do you?”

“His home is here. I doubt he will leave it for long.”

He held her protectively, and Grace could tell his thoughts were far away. “How is she?” Grace finally asked, pulling him back.

“Hannah?”

“Yes.”

“She asked about you. She said she misses you. That for years you met whenever you came to London, but that she hasn’t seen you since the night you…”

Grace looked up at him and smiled. “That seems a lifetime away. Going to her was the bravest thing I’d ever done. Having her send you to me was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. I have Hannah to thank for how happy I am.”

He lifted a hand to her face and brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Would you like to see her?”

Grace sat up with a start. “Oh, Vincent. Yes. Could I?”

“It could be arranged.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Now!”

“Do you feel up to a ride through the park?”

“Oh, yes.” She stood as gracefully as her cumbersome body would allow. Vincent stood with her.

“Genevieve tells me you had a system for meeting.”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps you will explain it to me on the way. I told her we would meet her at the same place as usual at four o’clock.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out his watch. “That doesn’t leave us much time.”

Grace reached for his hand and pulled him with her. She suddenly felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. She couldn’t wait to thank the person responsible for giving her Vincent. Words hardly seemed adequate.

Vincent watched Grace shift in her seat as she peered out the window for the hundredth time since they’d left Raeborn House. He wanted to laugh. Grace was so agitated she could hardly sit still.

“We’re almost there!” Her voice was filled with excitement. “Tell Barnabas to stop when he passes under that covered bridge,” she instructed, peering out the window and pointing a trembling finger.

Vincent shook his head. “I can’t believe you want to stop in the dark beneath a bridge and open the door to let someone in.”

His wife looked at him as if he’d made the most unintelligent comment in the world.

“Hannah wanted to make sure that no one saw us together. She didn’t want to put my reputation at risk.”

“Surely you didn’t do this while you were alone? How could you be sure it was Hannah who would get in with you and not some lowlife hiding in the dark beneath the bridge?”

“Because Hannah is the only person I sent a note telling what time I would arrive. Now stop tormenting me so I can enjoy my visit.”

Vincent laughed. Then he cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands and brought her lips to his. Their kiss was full and deep, and she ended it on a heavy sigh.

“Vincent…”

He laughed. “I just wanted to put a little color in your cheeks before Hannah arrived.”

“You put more than color in my cheeks, you monster. Now stop pestering me until we get home.”

“As you wish,” he said, then chuckled.

He couldn’t wait to see Hannah and Grace together. He couldn’t imagine any two friends more different from each other, but he knew how close they were.

Grace needed a friend to talk to right now, a diversion. He’d kept her cooped up in their house for endless weeks while he searched for Fentington, taking her out only to go for an occasional dinner at one of her sisters’ homes or when one or more of her sisters came to dine with them. And Grace was not content to be trapped in their house.

She was not like Angeline or Lorraine, who secluded themselves from the moment they realized they were carrying, keeping mostly to their beds, resting and sleeping the days away. Grace wasn’t content to pamper herself with idleness but was always working in her garden or practicing a new piece one of her composers had just published.

And every day the two of them walked down every path in the massive garden again and again. He swore she never tired. Swore he would wear out before she did.

But the special times when he took her for a ride were her favorites. She loved the out-of-doors. Loved the fresh air and the sunshine. If it weren’t for the birth of Caroline’s babe, he would have taken her to the country. But he knew he would have an even harder time watching her there. She would forever be out-of-doors and he would be searching for her.

“Here. Stop here, Barnabas.” She peered out the window when their carriage went beneath the bridge.

The carriage stopped. Vincent opened the door and stepped out.

Genevieve came forward as soon as the carriage stopped and stepped inside. The minute they saw each other, the two women squealed and threw themselves into each other’s arms.

Vincent ordered Barnabas to drive around the park at a leisurely pace, then stepped into the carriage and took his seat opposite the two women still holding each other in a warm embrace.

He didn’t get a good look at Genevieve until the carriage began its drive. The difference between the Genevieve he was used to seeing and the Hannah who was here now startled him.