Saving Grace (2 page)

Best not to be
too
close to him when that happens.

She stepped into the stall for a better look at the huntsman’s kit. Her fingers traced the gold buttons fronting the coat. “Specially made buttons for his hunt.” She wrinkled her nose at the Crosby seal. “Disgusting. It shall pain me to wear this. The stable boy’s clothing, at least, would not have had his crest.”

“I wouldn’t be sure about that,” Harrison said. “Look around. Most everything bears his name or coat of arms. The fox they catch on his land today’ll probably have a Crosby brand burned into it already.”

Imagining Lord Crosby doing the same to her were she to remain much longer, Grace rubbed her arms briskly, attempting to ward off the cold — and the chilling thought. Since her arrival three days earlier, he had chosen what she ate for each meal. He’d sent specific gowns up for her to wear. He’d instructed her in what to say to other guests during dinner. And in general, he had paraded her around in a manner befitting a child’s prized toy. She was to look and act a certain way, with no deviation whatsoever.

Today I am
deviating
.

Grace snatched the clothing from the wall and began pulling the stall door shut so she could change.

Harrison turned his back to her and walked toward the stable doors. “I’ll stand watch.”

“And I’ll hurry. I still need to become acquainted with the horse I am to ride.” Grace quickly discarded the borrowed servant’s clothing. She’d had to dress without the help of her lady’s maid, so she had nothing cumbersome to worry over.

Men’s clothing is so much simpler,
she thought as she pulled on the breeches and shirt and buttoned the coat. The latter was large, but that was to be expected. She didn’t care, so long as the fit looked decent enough for her to blend in with the others on the hunt.

Her hair was already pinned up, but she took care to tuck any stray wisps into the hat.
No point in revealing my identity before I am ready.

She exited the barn and turned slowly for Harrison to see. “Well, what do you think?”

His eyes remained averted, refusing to look at her directly. “You’re wearing women’s boots.”

“They’ll have to do.” Grace shrugged. “I’ve got to have control of my feet, haven’t I?”

“I suppose.” Harrison came forward, raising his head slightly. A look of consternation creased his brow. “May I?” He nodded at her poorly tied cravat.

“Please,” Grace said. “In addition to your numerous other duties, you may act the part of valet as well.”

Harrison frowned. “I’ll leave the fussing over clothes to Miranda.” But he adjusted the cravat then stepped back.

Grace smiled at him. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind and steadying her resolve for the act she was about to undertake. “I’m ready.”

“Ready to catch a fox?”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. The poor things. Don’t remind me.”

“I meant Lord Crosby. We must remove you from his teeth before you’re good and stuck. Now, are you ready to catch a
fox
?”

Grace laughed. “Oh yes. And Lord Crosby is the worst kind there is.”

The horse Harrison had found was quite remarkable. Grace hadn’t had the privilege of riding for close to a year, and her first few minutes — albeit in a saddle and position she was not accustomed to — were sheer joy.

Freedom!
Her heart soared, and it was all she could do to not ignore those gathering for the hunt and ride off on her own. But there was her younger sister Helen to think of, so Grace slowed her mount and reined in upon the outskirts of the whippers-in.

Harrison had said she was wearing the clothing of a Baron Davies, one of the youngest participants, who’d suddenly become ill last night. At Harrison’s request, Grace had not inquired as to how sick the baron was or how his untimely illness had come about. But she had been assured that after a day spent becoming well-acquainted with a chamber pot, the baron could be expected to make a full recovery.

By then Grace planned to have his clothing safely returned and to be well on her journey away from Lord Crosby’s. But for now she hung back, on the fringe of those gathering for the meet. She’d readied herself a full half hour ahead of the others, and from a distance she watched Lord Crosby greet the assembly.

Will he miss Baron Davies on the hunt?
She had no idea how close a friendship the two had, but the baron was a guest and had been invited to hunt, which indicated that they were at least on amicable terms.

Not too intimate apparently.
Grace watched with relief as Lord Crosby gave the command and the hounds moved off. The party dispersed a little, following the pack at a leisurely pace. Again Grace hung back. She didn’t want Crosby to discover her yet.

For the damage to be greatest — for him to be furious enough to be done with me — he needs to realize that I’ve been here for some time, and that I can ride.

As well as he can
, she hoped.

The cries of baying hounds sounded across the field, followed by what Grace thought was a rather lackluster horn. Disappointing
.
For all of Lord Crosby’s hot air, she had expected more.

In spite of the uninspiring call, the riders took off in earnest, Grace among them, moving from the edge to the middle of the pack. The hounds barked louder, indicating they’d caught the fox’s scent.

Poor thing.
She knew what it was to feel trapped. Thus far she had been fortunate in avoiding capture. Some years before she’d had a close call when her father arranged for her to marry Sir Edmund Crayton, a man known for piracy, and to whom her father owed a great debt. Her skin yet crawled when she reflected upon her one meeting with Crayton, on the way he had openly appraised her, as if she were a delectable morsel he was about to devour. Though he had only touched her arm and face briefly, she’d felt defiled. She’d had to scrub her skin raw and rinse twice in her bath that night before she’d felt clean again. Thankfully, Grandfather’s timely arrival in their lives had spared her the actual marriage.

And now?
Lord Crosby did not scare her as Crayton had. Possibly because she was older, but more likely because he was a different sort of man. Grace could tell he wasn’t interested in her other than as another object to own. Were he to make her his bride, she would be put on display and made to act and look perfect. There would be no affection between them, no mutual respect or friendship. And most certainly,
no freedom.

After six years at Grandfather’s — years free from debt collectors, her father’s temper, and worry over providing for Christopher and Helen — Grace could not bear to live without the liberties she’d become used to. She had to free them all from their father, but independence would not be had if she ended up in bondage to another man.

“Tally-ho!”

The shout snapped Grace from her reverie. It was time
. Lord Crosby must recognize me now.
She leaned forward, gripping the reins as the horse obeyed her command and flew across the field. Grace wove in and out of the other riders, her grip and concentration never slacking. She was nearing the head of the group; she could see the back of Lord Crosby’s head and how stiffly he perched in the saddle.

As if he is afraid he may muss his hair.

She edged closer, changing her angle until she was but a length behind and riding parallel to him. She dug in her heels, and with a burst of speed, overtook him.

“Glorious day for a hunt, is it not?” she called as she flew past.

As expected, Lord Crosby quickly regained his position as lead. For a minute they rode neck and neck, and Grace dared not take her eyes off the uneven course to look at him. She leaned forward, stretching with the horse as they jumped and cleared a felled tree. Their horses slowed as they neared the pack of baying hounds.

“Miss — Thatcher?” Lord Crosby’s voice sounded hesitant.

He does not believe what he is seeing.
“Good day, Lord Crosby. Such a fine morning, is it not?”

“It most certainly is not.” He glowered at her and reined in. “That is to say, it
was
, until a moment ago when you — you desecrated this noble event with your presence.”

“Oh,” Grace said, her mouth opening with feigned shock. “Such words, and from a gentleman.”

“You speak of words when a
lady
such as yourself appears at a hunt — wearing
breeches
.”

“Do not forget my cravat,” Grace added, jutting her chin out for him to see. “It is tied splendidly, don’t you think?”

The other riders had caught up and were slowing their horses and coming closer to discover the reason for the delay.

Grace took the opportunity to remove her hat and hairpins. She shook her curls out, so they tumbled across her shoulders. “Good day, gentlemen,” she said pleasantly. She had no argument with any of them — other than her main objection that they were
men
,
and thus prone, with the exception of Grandfather and Harrison, to being a difficulty in a woman’s life.

A few returned her greeting with, “Good day.” Most looked to Lord Crosby, open curiosity upon their faces, and a few with expressions of shock and outrage as evident as his.

“How dare you.” Crosby pointed a finger at Grace and spoke so loudly that those nearby could hear. “How dare you join my hunt.”

“Many women hunt,” Grace said.
Not that I am fighting for that privilege
.

“Not on my land, they don’t. A — away with you,” Lord Crosby said, waving her off as if she were a bothersome insect.

“Well.” Grace sat straight and tugged on the bottom of her too-large jacket. “If
that
is how you feel.”

“It is.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Grace narrowing her eyes in challenge.
Come, Lord Crosby, you can show more anger than that. Be furious with me — so irate that you never wish to see me again.
His face grew crimson, but not with the anger she had expected.

Is he — blushing?

Lord Crosby broke their gaze and looked down, pretending to clear his throat.

His bluster has been but an act. He wants a docile female because he doesn’t know what to do with any other kind. I have intimidated him,
she realized with some distress.

This turn of events was not good. She didn’t want the man cowed into allowing her to stay.

“I
suppose
you would like me to return to my embroidery,” she said, in her most disrespectful tone.

“Actually —” Lord Crosby cleared his throat again.

“Yes?” Grace said.
Be harsh now. I know you can.

“Return to your room and pack your things.” His words came out in a rush.

Grace widened her eyes and leaned back, acting as if he had wounded her. The ruse worked; Lord Crosby raised a fist.

“When I return, if you are still in my home …” He hesitated, as if scrambling for an appropriate threat.

“You will throw me out without my belongings?” Grace suggested.

“Yes!” He stood in his saddle, towering over her. “That is exactly what I will do.”

Grace resisted the urge to laugh. Instead she pursed her lips and wrinkled her brow, doing her best to look thoroughly upset. “I never!”

Never would have believed this could be so simple. Would that I hadn’t put up with three days of him first.

She urged her mount forward and threw a last, disdainful glance over her shoulder.
Little wonder Lord Crosby is nearing fifty and not yet wed. He is afraid of women.

“Farewell gentlemen,” she called, perhaps a little too merrily, as her horse broke into a gallop.

For a few wonderful moments, she felt the wind in her hair and the ground moving beneath her as she basked in the glory of her success and newfound freedom.

A step closer to it, at least
, she thought as she neared the stables, where she saw Harrison waiting for her.
I must play this out a little longer.

“Has the fox been caught already?” he asked, coming to help her dismount.

“I was kind; I let him go free,” Grace said, smiling to herself.

Harrison’s eyes drew together in a perplexed look.

“I shall tell you all about it on our journey,” Grace said. “We have been summarily dismissed. It would be best if we are gone before Lord Fox — I mean, Lord Crosby — returns.”

“Good,” Harrison said, handing her the bundle of her previously discarded clothing. “Because our next gentleman, Sir Richard Lidgate, is expecting you for dinner.”

Grace sighed. It seemed her freedom was short-lived. But if she didn’t at least appear to be playing Father’s game, it would be Helen who suffered. “Lidgate.” She rolled the name around in her mind. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “How much does Father owe him?”

“Not a red cent,” Harrison said.

“Then why —”

“Sir Lidgate is one of the wealthiest men in Yorkshire.” Harrison scowled. “He’s also had more than his share of women — only now he’s looking to settle. His reputation being what it is, he has been unable to procure a bride in the usual fashion.”

The victory of shaking off Lord Crosby dimmed considerably with this news. “Lidgate is willing to pay handsomely for a wife?”