Intimate Deception (37 page)

Vincent turned, then stormed from the room. Wedgewood called after him. Or perhaps it was Carmody. He didn’t stop to see who, but kept walking. He raced across the foyer and took the stairs two at a time.

He didn’t hesitate but threw open the door and entered her room. He was greeted by a loud, agonized moan, a cry for release as terrifying as any he’d ever heard.

His heart stopped for longer than just one beat and he feared it would never start again.

“Grace?”

Grace’s sisters turned, their expressions filled with surprise.

“Your Grace. You shouldn’t—”

Vincent walked past Lady Francine, who was the first to speak. He went directly to Grace and took her hand from Lady Josalyn’s grasp, then sat down beside her. She looked exhausted, her hair wet and plastered to her head, her face drawn, her complexion pale. She was in the midst of a violent contraction, her body heaving in pain. Vincent ached so he wanted to cry. Oh, what she was enduring for him. For their babe.

The contraction ended. Another followed.

“Grace?”

“Vincent…you shouldn’t…have come.”

She was panting ferociously, the pains one right after another now. One of her sisters wiped her face with a cloth. Another stood by with a blanket. Another with more towels.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer. I thought perhaps you might need me.”

She smiled a weak smile and panted faster. “I will always need you, Your Grace.”

He held her hand as she cried out.

“Push now, Grace,” Lady Caroline ordered, moving to the foot of the bed. “Push!”

Grace cried out and pushed.

When the severity lessened, she sank back onto the pillows, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

“Your babe’s almost here, Grace. This next time will do it.”

“Vincent!” Grace cried out and clutched his hand.

Her scream rent the air, the blood-curdling agony of it a pain he felt to his toes.

“Push, Grace. Push!”

Grace’s head lifted from the bed and she pushed harder.

Her hand squeezed his, and Vincent looked down as his son made his way into the world.

The babe was small and red and wrinkled, but the most beautiful sight Vincent had ever seen. The babe gave a lusty cry, and Vincent’s heart burst with joy.

“Your son, Your Grace,” Lady Caroline said, working to free the child. “You have a healthy baby boy.”

Vincent felt such relief he could barely contain himself. “Grace. Did you hear? We have a boy. A healthy baby boy.”

“Yes, Vincent,” she whispered, lifting her hand to wipe the tears streaming down his face. “A son.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “I love you.”

He couldn’t explain the emotions raging through him. The joy. Elation. Euphoric jubilation. Relief.

Love.

He brushed his hand over Grace’s damp face. “I love you, Grace.”

She breathed a heavy sigh and turned her face into his palm and kissed him.

Vincent looked to Lady Caroline and the rest of Grace’s sisters. All of them had tears in their eyes as they cared for Grace and the newborn babe.

“Thank you,” he said to no one in particular. To all of them.

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” Caroline answered. “Why don’t you give Grace a few minutes’ privacy so we can freshen her up? You can come back in a few minutes to formally meet your son.”

Vincent stood and looked down at Grace. Her face was still pale and the expression she wore still etched in pain. “Are you all right, Grace?”

“Fine. There’s nothing to worry about now, Vincent. See? I told you everything would be all right.”

Vincent nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. The memory of the terror he felt was too recent. The nightmare he’d just endured too familiar. Even though Grace assured him she was fine, the look on her face didn’t say the same.

“I’ll be outside the door. I’ll come back when you’re ready.”

She smiled, and he leaned down to kiss her again, then walked to the door. He barely had his hand on the knob when another piercing scream stopped him cold.

“Grace!”

He saw the worried looks on her sisters’ faces as they rushed to where Grace lay, her face contorted, her body heaving in pain.

He stayed back, knowing his intrusion would be more of a hindrance than a help. His fear was so great he couldn’t overcome it.

His elation had been premature. All the fears and terrors rushed back to haunt him. Something was wrong. He could see it in the panic-stricken looks on everyone’s faces, hear it in their voices.

“What is it, Grace?” Lady Caroline said, her hands and eyes quickly examining Grace.

“Vincent!”

Vincent rushed to her side, clasping her hand, helping her ride out another pain. He wouldn’t let her die now. Not after she’d given him a son.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at the fearful expression on Lady Caroline’s face.

She shook her head.

Vincent felt every fear come back in full force. Surely God would not ask him to trade one life for another. Surely not…

Another pain stopped his thoughts as Grace clutched his hand. He looked at Caroline again and saw her features soften.

“When the next pain comes, Grace, push as hard as you can.”

“I’m tired, Linny,” Grace said, her voice weak, her pain-ravaged body near exhaustion.

“I know, Grace,” Caroline said, pressing her hand to Grace’s abdomen. “But you have another babe who wants to be born.”

Vincent felt the air leave his lungs when Grace arched from another pain.

She pushed once, then twice, and a second babe made its way into Lady Caroline’s arms.

“You have a daughter too, Your Grace. A very beautiful daughter.”

“Did you hear, Grace? We have a daughter.”

Tears streamed down Grace’s cheeks, and he wiped them away with his fingers, then pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Is she healthy, Caroline? Why hasn’t she cried?”

The babe chose that moment to utter her first very loud, healthy cry.

Grace breathed a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Vincent looked at the babe Lady Josalyn held in her arms.
His daughter was smaller than her brother but looked perfect. Even her delicate cry was perfect.

Vincent sat in a chair beside her bed and watched Grace sleep. Her sisters had bathed her and put her in a pretty satin gown sprigged with dainty yellow embroidered flowers and trimmed in lace. Even though dark circles rimmed her eyes and her face was still pale, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was his wife. The mother of his children.

He loved her with such fierceness it frightened him.

Josalyn and Anne were in the next room with the babes. He could hear their low whispers as they cooed over the newborns. God’s miracles.

Sarah and Francine would come later, and Caroline and Mary tomorrow. They would all watch closely for the next few days to make sure Grace didn’t come down with a fever.

Vincent would keep his own watch. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her ever again.

He dropped his head back against the chair and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe it was over. Couldn’t believe Grace had survived his cousin’s attempts to kill her. Couldn’t believe Grace had given him not one, but two perfect babes. Vincent knew he was the luckiest man on earth.

He silently thanked God again for blessing him so and vowed anew to keep his promise. Even though he knew it was a terrible penance to pay, he would never risk losing Grace with another pregnancy.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still worrying, Vincent.”

Vincent sat forward in his chair and reached for Grace’s hand. “That isn’t worry you see, my love. That’s the humble look of a man who has just been given the world. I have just returned from looking at them again. They are beautiful, Grace. You have made me the happiest man alive.”

Vincent lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel such love. Both for the children I never thought I’d have and for the wife I am so blessed to have. I love you, Grace.”

“And I love you,” she said, touching her palm to his cheek. “Have you chosen a name for your son?”

“I think Edward,” he said, watching her reaction. “After my father.” She smiled, and he gave her the rest of their son’s name. “He will be Edward Andrew Vincent Germaine, twelfth Marquess of Hayworth.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“And what name have you chosen for your daughter, Grace?”

She hesitated, then said, “I would like to call her Hannah.”

Vincent smiled. “Yes. I think Hannah would be very pleased to have our daughter named after her. She is, after all, responsible for her being here.”

“Thank you,” Grace said with tears in her eyes.

Vincent leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, then pulled away at the soft knock on the door.

“The servants are here to remove Your Grace’s things,” Alice said, holding the door open.

Vincent nodded. “Send them in.”

“What’s happening, Vincent?”

“Nothing to concern yourself over, Grace. For now I think it’s best if I move to another room so you won’t be disturbed.”

“No, Vincent.”

He heard the disappointment in her voice and saw the frown deepen on her forehead, but ignored it. He had no choice. He’d never be able to stay in the same room with her, let alone the same bed, and not touch her. “You need the rest. I would only bother you.”

He nodded for Alice to show the servants in and take everything that was his out of Grace’s room. Before Grace could question him further, Josalyn and Anne came into the room. They each carried one of the twins in their arms.

Vincent helped Grace to sit and propped some pillows behind her back.

Josalyn reached the bed first. “Your son is already showing quite an independent streak, Grace. He isn’t shy at all in letting us know when he wants to be fed.” Josalyn placed a fussing Edward in Grace’s outstretched arms.

“I can see already he’s going to take after his father,” Grace said, smiling up at him.

“And your daughter already shows exquisite manners and a quiet, calm temperament,” Anne said, holding a contented Hannah.

Grace looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. “She’s obviously going to take after me.”

Vincent laughed and waited until the servants were out of the room before soundly kissing his wife, then leaving
her to feed the babes. The minute he left the room he breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to the babes, he’d escaped an argument. He knew it wasn’t over, but for now, any concerns Grace had about his moving out of her room were, if not forgotten, at least delayed.

G
race listened to the mantel clock below strike two in the morning, then slipped out of bed and lowered her feet to the cool wooden floor, long chilled from the dying fire in her room. With a slight shiver, she lifted her nightgown over her head and tossed it across a chair. The cool night air brushed against her bare flesh and she shivered again before slipping into the thin satin robe she’d painstakingly laid out before she’d gone to bed.

The material did little to warm her, but warmth was not her intent. Not now. She’d be plenty warm later on.

She smiled to herself and looped the tie at her waist just tight enough to hold the satin together, then walked to the door. She was off to wage a war, to fight a battle, to defeat the enemy. She smiled a broad smile and shivered a third time as a rampaging wave of desire swirled low in her belly.

She was off to seduce her husband.

She walked down the hall and stopped before the door to the room he’d moved into six weeks ago, on the night their twins had been born. She’d known his intent from the first, had known he was distancing himself from her because of his fears. Fears he’d battled since his first wife died. Fears he’d struggled to defeat even before he knew
for sure she was carrying his child. Fears he was convinced he was not brave enough to face again.

Grace was aware of his nightmares, just as she knew he foolishly thought he could be content never to resume the private side of their marriage. And since there’d been little she could do until now to counteract such an absurdity, for six weeks she’d let him think she was in agreement with his decision.