The man placed it in Spencer’s hand with a flourish, standing back to grin at the disbelief spreading across his face.
Spencer unfolded the paper and ran his eye across the slanted writing inside. The growing boldness of moments before increased further, chasing down the bitter disappointment still circling in his stomach and fighting it with renewed valour.
‘I can hardly credit it. I wasn’t sure such a thing was possible!’
‘Anything’s possible if you know the right people, lad.’
He shook his head, still not quite able to believe what he was seeing. The war raging inside him, despair fighting with a silver glimmer of rising hope, tore at him with its teeth, but it no longer seemed like such a forlorn cause.
‘For this you have my everlasting thanks. You’ll have my additional thanks—and this coin—’ he held out a guinea and placed it on top of the copy of Evelina in his hand ‘—if you deliver this book to that woman over there. Blonde hair, black cloak.’
He felt his jaw tense as he allowed himself one fleeting glance in Grace’s direction, the temptation to stare calling to him so irresistibly he clenched his hand into a fist.
Don’t look. You have a plan.
The smaller man’s eyes lit up at the unexpected bounty and he took the proffered book and pocketed the coin with the same swift, practised movement.
‘Any message?’
Spencer paused, thinking quickly. The ache in his chest was slowly ebbing away, giving ground to the determination he had always been so proud of. Fresh hope, tentative but holding its head high despite the rising odds, unfurled to stoke higher the flames of battle curling in his belly.
You won’t be keeping my wife’s heart without a fight, Earls. If I can help Grace see she has other paths to choose, you can be damned sure I will.
‘No details. Just tell her I know now what I must do.’
* * *
Looking up into Henry’s face Grace felt her lip long to curl, but she kept her expression carefully blank. Every nerve screamed to yank herself free of his insistent grip and push him away, but that would draw stares from those passing by and with another horrible plunge of her stomach Grace realised Henry knew it. She was trapped: either cause an embarrassing scene in the middle of a busy street or endure the nausea that brought clammy coldness to her skin at Henry’s touch.
When a hand had reached for hers she’d turned with a smile, her heart leaping at the prospect of Spencer’s return—only to check in sudden horror at the all-too-familiar face of the man looking down at her, who had taken advantage of her stunned dismay to draw her into his grasp and guide her unfeeling feet across to the other side of the road.
‘It’s been far too long since I had the pleasure of seeing you. Be assured, it is a pleasure indeed.’
A shudder ran through Grace’s body as she watched the shapely mouth moving and blue eyes twinkle with the undeniable charm she had been so vulnerable to only months before. How could she ever have thought herself in love with him? The handsome façade so many had thought her fortunate to have attracted hid nothing of worth below its surface, although by the way Henry pressed her hand so closely to his coat he evidently still believed in its power.
He gave her cold fingers a lingering squeeze, sending another dart of revulsion to make Grace flinch. Not so long ago she would have given almost anything to hear him speak those words, but now all she wanted was to be free of his unwanted presence and once again find comfort in the circle of Spencer’s muscular arms.
The thought of her husband’s unshakeable strength gave Grace courage. He had found the will within himself to confess his deepest shame to her the night before; if he could overcome his own demons, she could face hers.
‘What is it you want, Henry?’ The words came abruptly, pleasing her that their sharpness cut him off in mid-flow. ‘I seem to remember at one time my company was not as agreeable to you as it appears to be now.’
A flicker of surprise crossed the comely face and his fair brows twitched together in a frown. ‘Come along. That isn’t true. We’ve always been good friends.’
‘Good friends? Is that what you believe?’ Grace’s eyes widened incredulously, hardly able to believe his arrogance. She had always liked his confidence, so opposite to her own shy reserve, and wished some of it would rub off on her.
How obvious his shortcomings are now I know how a real man conducts himself.
His ‘confidence’ was nothing more than brash self-satisfaction, pathetic when compared with Spencer’s cool capability.
‘Of course. It’s because of that friendship I wanted to speak with you. I have an offer that I think you’ll see the benefits of—for both of us.’
Grace gave her arm another experimental tug, only for the crook of Henry’s elbow to tighten on her wrist. There seemed little chance of fleeing until the slyly smiling man released her—or until Spencer came charging over to force the issue, a prospect so alarming Grace felt herself swallow hard.
Please stay inside, Spencer, she thought desperately. Don’t come out and make an exhibition, even if that’s what Henry deserves.
‘What kind of offer?’
Henry’s smile spread a fraction wider. ‘George told me of his meeting with your new husband. He wasn’t much impressed with his manners, I’m afraid, finding them far beneath your own—which suggests to me you wed him for reasons other than his company. I understand his house is very fine and George did remark on the quality of his tailoring—both signs of a comfortable income, unless I’m much mistaken.’
He sounded approving, oblivious to the sudden stiffness of Grace’s wary frame. ‘I have a few schemes that require generous financial backing. If you were to persuade Dauntsey to invest, I could put in a few recommendations for you to the right people, see if you couldn’t find yourself invited to the occasional ball. You’d have to come alone, of course—my influence doesn’t stretch to cover violent thugs—but for the sake of our friendship I might be able to manage a favour to you.’
A beat of silence followed, filled by the chatter of people moving past where Grace stood immobile with amazement, staring up at the man in front of her with no words to break the pregnant pause.
When she didn’t answer Henry bent to murmur into her ear, lips almost brushing her skin to make it crawl. ‘Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you enjoy seeing all your old acquaintances again and perhaps even—me?’ His voice was like silk, soft and persuasive—and the most repugnant thing Grace had ever heard.
He must have been so sure of his success to let his guard down. In his careless vanity, certain victory was in sight, it was suddenly easy for Grace to remove her hand from its unguarded snare and slowly, deliberately, wipe it against her black cloak as though cleaning dirt from her fingers.
‘No, Henry. I would not enjoy that. In fact, spending another moment in their company or yours is something I never wish to endure ever again.’
The pure shock that spread across his face wiped away all traces of his good looks, leaving behind only incomprehension that turned to anger as though she had slapped him. He reached for her hand again, but Grace stepped smoothly away, his fingers closing on empty air.
‘What do you mean, no? Did you understand what I said?’
‘Perfectly.’ Grace smiled politely, feeling the blood thrumming in her veins at her uncharacteristic bravery.
Spencer’s influence. I almost wish he could see me now.
‘I understood perfectly, but I’m afraid I will have to decline. I have no wish to enter into any kind of arrangement with you and there’s absolutely no chance I will be petitioning my husband on your behalf. He may not be the most amiable, I’ll admit, but he’s a good man and I will allow nobody to take advantage of that.’
The colour of Henry’s face had darkened and his blue eyes stared with the barely suppressed bad temper of a spoilt child.
All charm had deserted him and when he spoke his voice was thick with displeasure, shadowed by an unmistakable edge of—
Jealousy?
Could that be right? It might stem from the dent to his swollen ego at Grace’s rejection, but the possessive flicker made her fight back a sudden perverse desire to laugh.
‘You don’t actually like him, do you? Surely having had your standards set so high previously you can’t care for one such as him!’
Another bubble of suppressed laughter prevented Grace from replying straight away, but when she was sure she had herself back under control all she could do was smile. The truth was right in front of her, so simple and so pure she could hardly believe she had ever fought against it. It was the path to the most sincere happiness she could imagine and all she needed to do was reach out and take hold of it with both hands.
‘I don’t merely like him, Henry. I respect him, I care about him—indeed, I love him.’
Henry’s lower jaw seemed in grave danger of falling off as Grace turned neatly on her heel and began to walk away. Her parting curtsy was elegant, definitive: the final interaction she intended ever to have with the one who had never let her into his cold, selfish heart. There was only one man whose affections she now craved and the moment had come for her to throw caution to the wind and declare her truth to him—whatever the consequences.
She’d barely set one foot on the steps leading to the bookseller’s shop when she sensed a presence at her side, a furtive shape at the very edge of her field of vision making her pause. Had Henry sent someone running after her? He would have thought himself far too important to pursue her himself, no doubt; she spun quickly, unaware of her look of suspicion that turned to powerful interest as she took in a vaguely familiar face.
‘Beg pardon, ma’am, but I’ve a message for you. From the Captain.’
The shady figure she had seen lurking outside Nevin Place waiting for Spencer held a book out towards her, shaking it so insistently she took it without a word. ‘I’m to give you this and to tell you he’s had to leave immediately on urgent business.’
Grace felt herself sag as a heavy blow of intense disappointment thudded into her chest. Spencer had gone away? So unexpectedly, so suddenly, and just as she’d made up her mind to lay her feelings for him bare with nowhere left to hide?
‘He has gone already? Are you quite sure?’
Harwell nodded. ‘He left at once. He would have told you himself, I’m sure, but you were deep in conversation with another gentleman and I think he didn’t want to interrupt.’
The gasp torn from Grace’s lips was ragged, a sharp breath that emptied her lungs entirely.
Spencer saw me with Henry? But why did he not approach?
Surely he would have recognised Henry and attempted to free Grace from his clutches as he had with George? Her mouth dried with a sudden sinking feeling and her heart skipped one painful beat before railing against her ribcage with vicious speed.
‘Did he leave any word for me? Any explanation at all?’
She watched the shake of his head with despairing eyes. ‘The Captain said only that he knew what he must do. Make of that what you will.’
Grace’s stomach turned over in a hideous flip as she digested Spencer’s message, sure now her sinking suspicion was correct. To some the words might have been cryptic, but to her their meaning was abundantly clear.
He had abandoned her. He’d seen her with Henry and among the confusion and still-raw events of the night had used it as an excuse to bolt. There was no way, surely, Spencer could genuinely believe she still had any yearning for the wretch she had loved before; how could he, when Grace had shown her true feelings so plainly, giving her husband the only gift she had left to give? She’d trusted him, had allowed him to wear down her defences so gradually, and still he had run from her when she dared let herself draw close.
Telling the truth about Will must have been a step too far and now he has turned away from me again rather than let me in. Seeing me with Henry just gave him the pretext he needed to retreat.
Perhaps it was a leap to jump to such an awful conclusion, but the memory of his words that morning told her all she needed to know. He hadn’t wanted to discuss what he’d told her the night before—hardly the action of a man comfortable with what he had done. Fresh regret must have burned inside Spencer at his lapse of control and now he was seeking to limit the damage the only way he knew how, regardless of Grace’s dismay when she learned of his escape.
All the trust they had built between them, the connection she had been so sure they had forged as they lay breathless on the study floor must now be in tatters, with Spencer apparently unwilling to even look upon her face. There was no other explanation for his abrupt departure on some mysterious business never mentioned before and now Grace’s whole being froze with sickening despair that made her want to cry out loud.
It was an effort to force her dry lips to move and when she managed to finally bend them to her will the words came out as a croak. ‘Did he at least say when he would be back?’
‘No, ma’am, he didn’t. He said nothing of returning at all.’
Chapter Fourteen
Grace looked up sharply as Cecily entered the parlour with the morning post in her hand, only to drop her eyes to her book once again at her sister’s regretful shake of her head.
‘Still nothing from Spencer, I’m afraid. Did he truly give no clue when you might hear from him? No message at all?’
The same page of Evelina Grace had stared at for the past half hour swam before her eyes as she commanded ready tears not to fall and when she spoke it was with a throat tight with unhappiness.
‘None whatsoever. I know only from his associate that he had to leave without delay.’
Her younger sister’s face showed a world of sympathy, although Grace didn’t raise her eyes to see it. With her gaze fixed on the printed words before her she allowed her mind to revisit the day on which she had received them, the book she held so tightly a precious—if painful—reminder of its giver.
It had been almost a week since Spencer had disappeared into thin air and with every day that passed Grace cursed herself more desperately for her stupidity in allowing Henry even a moment of her time. If she’d only stayed with Spencer, hadn’t left him when his emotional scars were so vulnerable and raw... She should have shaken Henry off at the first touch of his hand on her arm, defying the deeply ingrained desire to avoid making a scandalous scene that had lived within her all her life. If she had, Spencer might not have fled, taking her hopes for the future with him to who knew where.
Grace clenched her jaw against the emotion that wanted to burst forth, a wordless cry of pain that clawed at her insides and would not leave her be. She turned her head to look beyond the parlour’s fogged windows to survey the wet street, some naïve part of her still hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart even as the rest of her knew it was useless. Nevin Place had seemed so empty without its master, the lonely bed in which Grace had curled into a ball of misery on the first night Spencer had not come home somewhere she couldn’t bear to sleep again. Perhaps it had been childish to seek the comfort of her family, but the sight of Spencer’s silent study—and the rug in front of the cold fireplace—had brought hot tears to Grace’s eyes and she had alarmed her poor mama by falling into her arms as soon as the cab had set her down on the doorstep of Number Four Regent Square.
She felt her mother’s gaze on her now, but refused to meet it, wretchedness still circling in her stomach to make it rail against the breakfast she had been forced to take an hour before. It was a horrid sensation, distress making her feel as hollow as if her insides had been scooped out.
‘Don’t fret. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason Spencer has been unable to write. When your father had to go away on business it was sometimes above two weeks between letters and there was
never any cause for alarm.’
Grace nodded, still focused on the rainy world on the other side of the glass as her innards churned with unceasing sorrow and sweet memories sent daggers to lodge between her ribs.
If only it was that simple.
They had found something real between them, she had been so sure of it. The picture of Spencer’s face in the light of the dying fire, his eyes ablaze with feelings he had no need to explain haunted her, appearing behind her eyelids when she closed them to sleep and even now never a hair’s breadth from her thoughts. All the emotion of that one night could not have been faked by either of them; or at least she’d thought. If only he would come home she could tell him the truth: that he had nothing to fear from confiding in her and that if he would allow it she would help him through the darkness of his agonising memories and the spectres of his guilt.
But in order for that to happen he would have to return and Grace turned away from the window again with despair making each breath a raw gasp of fire.
She turned a page, pretending to read while affecting not to notice the worried glances between her mother and sisters as they busied themselves with their embroidery. There was no need for Grace to spell out her feelings any more clearly; they knew her well enough to see her sorrow and even the far-off sound of the front door opening and closing again didn’t interrupt their quiet concern.
The housekeeper putting Peg’s cat outside, I imagine. I wish I could escape my thoughts so easily.
She couldn’t even glance at her own hands without catching the glint of her wedding ring and from between the pages of her book peeped the portrait Spencer had sketched of her that sunny afternoon in the glasshouse. It lay between the leaves like a secret treasure, his signature scribbled in one corner to make her heart ache each time she surrendered to temptation and snatched another look. The memory of that day and the delicious words Spencer had uttered taunted her, precious yet painful in equal measure.
Scandalously Wed to the Captain Page 22