My Saving Grace

by Harmon, Danelle

  Del took a sip of his brandy and looked down, faintly embarrassed. He loved Ned as much as if the boy were his own son, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him, even if he would prefer to forget that hellish mission on which Connor had led them to get the Jesuit’s bark that had saved the boy’s life.

  From outside came the song of a warbler, drifting in through the open windows.

  “Right. So what’s troubling you, Del?” asked the admiral, with a penetrating glance at his flag captain.

  Del, who’d been savoring the brandy he still held in his mouth, swallowed it. He steadied the glass on his knee and looked his superior in the eye. “Lieutenant Akers stepped on Lady Grace’s gown as she moved to get out of the boat. I saw it with my own eyes, and it was deliberate.”

  “You don’t say!”

  “I wouldn’t make up nor exaggerate a matter of such grave importance, sir.”

  “Surely it was an accident—”

  “It was no accident. I saw what happened, all of it. As she stepped from the boat, he put his foot down on the hem of her gown. It’s why it tore. And he was smiling, the bastard. He thought he got away with it but I saw what he did, and every tar in that boat saw things they had no business seeing!” Del took a steadying breath, trying to keep his anger under control, and put the glass on a nearby table before his clenched fingers could break it. “I caught up to the blackguard when we stopped to let Ponsonby out, and the matter will be settled at dawn.”

  “Bloody hell, Del,” said the Colin, alarmed.

  “What would you have me do? The lady’s modesty and honor were compromised,” he snapped back. “As a gentleman it’s my duty to defend them both!”

  “This makes no sense to me whatsoever,” Sir Graham said. “Why would he even do such a thing?”

  “Is it not obvious?”

  The admiral raised his shoulders in a blank shrug.

  “The man perceives your niece as a threat. He’s a—” he swore, then lowered his voice and blurted, “—he’s in love with Ponsonby.”

  “What?!”

  “And that’s his own damned business, but it becomes mine when he attempts harm to a woman I consider to be under my care!”

  “Easy, Del,” said Sir Graham, putting down his glass. “We’ll find another way out of this.”

  “There is no other way out of this.”

  “There has to be.”

  “There isn’t.”

  Sir Graham swore beneath his breath and got to his feet. “A duel. A damned duel. I swear, this so-called holiday has been fraught with more stress than a visit to the First Lord of the bloody Admiralty.”

  “The challenge has been made and accepted. I will defend your niece’s honor and fight the duel.”

  “You’ve never fought a duel in your damned life.”

  “I fight a duel every time I take Orion out to sea and face the chance of meeting up with a French adversary. Is a lady’s honor no less important than that of Britannia herself?”

  The admiral put his forehead in his hand and began to knead his temples. Then he picked up his brandy and drained the glass in one swallow before getting to his feet and going to the window, there to stand looking out over the flat green pastures and the sea in the distance.

  “I’ll be your second,” Colin said quietly. “I think Sir Graham should sleep in tomorrow. This trip has been taxing for him, I think.”

  The admiral turned. “Damn your eyes, both of you. You treat me as if I’m an old man!”

  The two brothers just looked at each other.

  “We’ll be back in time for breakfast, I’m sure,” soothed Colin, who knew his old superior well. “Why, by the time you wake, the matter will have been dealt with.”

  The words were just that. Words. As gentlemen, all three of them knew that Del had done the only thing he could do, and that there was no way out of this.

  “I’ll be your second,” the admiral finally said with resignation. “Tell me the details so I can meet with Akers’ man and arrange a spot to conduct this wretched affair. Colin, you can stand in for the surgeon.”

  27

  Del retreated to his room to freshen up. He was just changing into a new shirt when he happened to look out the window and down onto the lawn outside.

  There was Lady Grace, moving across the freshly-mown grass toward an outlying barn. Ned was with her, and the two were laughing.

  So much for any late-day naps the two might’ve taken, he thought wryly. Though to be fair, a good hour had passed since they’d all parted following refreshments.

  He had intended to spend what remained of the afternoon reading Scripture. Preparing one’s soul for the afterlife was never a bad idea, especially on the eve of a duel where anything could happen, and the beautiful words of the 139th Psalm, his favorite, called to him. Words of comfort and majesty, assurance and divine omniscience. Words that he knew by heart, but which spoke to him differently every time he pondered them. He got the old leather Bible from his trunk, leafed through the well-worn pages, and began to read.

  O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.

  Outside, their laughter drifted up, his childish, hers as pure as morning sunshine.

  Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.

  Del put a finger in his ear and tried to block out their laughter.

  My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

  Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.

  His days had all been written. His life had been known to his Creator before he’d even come red-faced and squalling into this huge and uncertain world and begun to live it. This life that brought him joys and triumphs, questions and answers, pain and grief, and surprise and confusion but so far, had not brought him someone to love.

  Would it ever?

  In thy book all my members were written.

  Again, the merry notes of her laughter.

  Was she, Lady Grace Fairchild, written into his own Book of Life before either of them had even been born?

  And if she were, what was he doing up here all alone, all but handing her over to Sheldon Ponsonby when God Himself might have other plans?

  Del didn’t know what God’s plans were.

  But he did feel a sudden and irresistible urge to close the old book, pick up his hat, and go down there and join them.

  * * *

  The barn was blessedly cool.

  She and Ned were poking about its interior, hoping to find the great Shareb-er-Rehh, but aside from a trio of empty stalls laid with fresh straw, the building was empty.

  “Perhaps they’re all out to pasture?” Ned speculated. “I’m sure I can find this horse. There’s a painting of him above a fireplace back in the house. He’s bay, with a big bold blaze.”

  “That would describe any number of horses, I should think.”

  “Well, I bet I can recognize him. Let’s go look outside. Besides, there’s nothing in here.”

  Actually, there was.

  Delmore Lord stood there in the entranceway, silhouetted by the late afternoon light. Grace’s eyes, accustomed to the gloom within the old barn, could not make out any details save for his outline. She was struck by how tall he was, framed by the space of the open door and the bright sunshine outside.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting?” he said.

  “Oh, no, of course not. We were just trying to find this famous racehorse. Have you ever seen him, Captain Lord?”

  He moved fully into the barn, his hat in his hand. “No, I confess I haven’t. But I can help you both look for him, if you wish.”

  “I would like that,” Grace said happily. “Ne
d?”

  “We need all the help we can get. But it’s hot outside, and the sun’s bothering me. I’m just going to run back to the house and get my hat. I’ll be right back!”

  The boy hustled out of the barn, shutting the door behind them and plunging them into deeper gloom. The only light came from thick windows set with cobwebs and spiders’ nests, high up in each stall.

  “Well,” said Lady Grace. “Good to see you smiling again, my friend.”

  “Hmph. Friend.”

  She tilted her head and grinned up at him. “You say that as if it’s an accusation.”

  “Well, it is, actually. Who wants to be the mere friend of a beautiful woman? You can’t blame me for wishing you thought of me as more than that, but alas, the die is cast so I’ll take whatever meager scraps you throw my way.”

  Grace laughed, enjoying the flirtation “Why, Captain Lord! You have a poetic side of you I’d never have imagined!”

  “There are lots of things about me you may never have imagined, but since you’re not rejecting my compliments, allow me to pay you another. You look quite ravishing in blue. I daresay it’s your color.”

  “I can imagine that it’s your color as well, given the Royal Navy uniform I’ve yet to see you in, though you seem adverse to wearing it in your civilian identity.”

  “Perhaps that is because I really don’t have a civilian identity?”

  “I should like to see you in uniform someday.”

  “Not likely, unless we meet at a naval gathering somewhere. But ah, never mind. I forget myself. My mood is a strange one this afternoon, and my tongue seems to have a mind of its own.”

  “Then don’t govern it. Your lack of restraint is refreshing.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is.”

  “Don’t marry Ponsonby.”

  “What?”

  “Marry me, instead.”

  “Captain Lord!”

  “Have I made you uncomfortable? I do apologize.”

  “You haven’t made me uncomfortable, it’s just that—”

  “Do you want me to take back what I just said? Forget I ever uttered such words of—” he grinned and laid a dramatic hand over his heart— “covetous devotion? No, don’t answer that, as I don’t believe I can take them back, nor will I.”

  She laughed harder, her eyes now sparkling, appreciating this playful side of him that he had never allowed her to see much of. “If you take them back, I’ll be annoyed. So don’t. I know you’re just joking, and that you really do wish to see me accomplish my goal of marrying Ponsonby. But whatever has got into you? It’s not like you to be so unreserved. So carefree. You’re usually much...”

  “Stuffier?”

  “I would use a kinder word, actually.”

  He shrugged and said cheerfully, “Well, one never knows what life will bring, do they? A person might be here one day and gone the next, so might as well say what needs to be said and blast the consequences. Besides, it’s a fine day, with even finer company, and I don’t feel inclined to be stuffy.”

  She looked closely at him, her eyes narrowing. There was something dark beneath his breezy words and cavalier manner. Something he was hiding.

  “Here one day and gone the next? And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that if there’s something on your mind, it’s best to say it while there’s still time. Better to regret it in the here-and-now than in the here-and-after, when the opportunity for such utterances is then lost.”

  She cocked her head, her frown deepening. “You are correct. You are in a strange mood this afternoon, Captain Lord. I’m worried about you.”

  “Have I failed so dreadfully in my attempts to flirt with you? Drat.”

  “Why are you going on about life’s uncertainties and waxing philosophical, speaking so oddly, as if you’re to—” she made a helpless little gesture with her hands— “I don’t know, die tomorrow?”

  “And if I were to die tomorrow, would you miss me? Grieve me?”

  “Whatever are you going on about?

  “Answer me, if you will.”

  He was no longer flirting with her, no longer playful, and the intent seriousness of the question unnerved her. She put a hand on his sleeve to convince him of her earnestness. “Of course I’d miss you. Mourn you. Grieve you, terribly. You are, after all, my friend.”

  Friend.

  He bit his lip, his face reflecting an emotion she couldn’t understand, and then he closed his eyes and pulled back, looking quite stricken.

  “We should go,” he said stiffly. “It’s not proper for us to be alone in here. I would see no harm come to your reputation.”

  “But—”

  “I was wrong to come out here. To flirt with you like that when you love someone else. It was unfair, but sometimes a man can’t help himself. Come, let’s go.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head and just offered his arm. Feeling confused and deflated, she took it. Together they moved wordlessly to the door—

  And found it locked.

  “What the devil?”

  The captain pulled on it, frowning. He tried the latch. Jiggled it. Rattled it and swore beneath his breath and finally sighed and leaned against the cobwebby wooden wall. “Ned. I should’ve known.”

  “Known what?”

  “That boy has been raised in the Caribbean. The sun wasn’t bothering him and he didn’t need a hat. It was an excuse. He locked us in here.”

  “What?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Why would he do that?”

  Captain Lord just looked at her and raised a brow. “Maybe because he, too, would like to see us be more than just friends.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh yes, he would.” Del tried the door again. It was solidly locked.

  “Please tell me you won’t say anything to his parents. He’s just a boy.”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  “So now what do we do?”

  “We either wait for him to return, I kick the door down—”

  “Oooh! How romantic!”

  “Or I hoist myself out one of these windows, come around the other side to the door and let you out.”

  “That seems to be the most reasonable option.”

  They stood there in the gloom for a long moment. Captain Lord looked at her, and again she saw that conflicting emotion in his face and realized, right down to the very roots of her soul, that his flirtation had been dead serious, that his offer of marriage had been dead serious, that what she saw in his face was pure unmitigated desire and he wanted her with an intensity that made her dizzy just thinking about it.

  Her mouth went dry.

  She swayed toward him, and he put a hand up, stopping her. He stepped back. His eyes were fierce.

  “Don’t. You’ll hate yourself.”

  And then he turned on his heel, headed for the window, hoisted himself up on the sill and disappeared. And when the door to the barn opened ten minutes later, it wasn’t Captain Lord who stood there, but her maid, Polly.

  “Mr. Thorne said you’d locked yourself in the barn and needed to be let out. Are you all right, milady?”

  Of course. Ever the gentleman, ever conscious of propriety and a lady’s reputation, Captain Lord had made damned sure he had sent someone safe to rescue her.

  “Yes, Polly,” she said with a heavy heart. “I am fine.”

  * * *

  A duel.

  The three men might have intended to keep the matter quiet but Mitchell, who’d overheard their conversation as he’d returned to his post, had paused just outside the door and listened. He heard enough of it to glean the details of when, where and speculatively, how.

  He’d wasted no time telling the other servants when they took their tea late that afternoon, and by the end of the evening every person in the house knew of it.

  Including Grace.

  Polly told her as she was brushing out her mistress’s long dark hair for bed. After the maid
left, Grace lay in the darkness, staring up at the canopy above her head. Sleep evaded her.

  Duels. They were commonplace, she knew.

  And she also knew that not everyone survived them.

  Captain Lord was doing this for her. Now, she knew why he’d been so distant and tense as they’d traveled out from King’s Lynn. Now, she knew the reason for his odd behavior, his cavalier and almost morbid philosophical musings, his reckless flirtation that was so out of character for him out in the barn. Guilt assailed her. She didn’t want anyone fighting a duel over her, no matter what might— or might not— have happened.

  Surely, her gown had merely caught on the oarlock.

  Hadn’t it?

  She turned over onto her side, staring through the parted bed hangings and out the open window. A cool night breeze moved through the room, bringing with it the scent of pastures, horses and the sea.

  Sleep would not come.

  Grace flipped onto her stomach and shoving aside her pillow, lay her cheek against the sheets. They were crisp and clean and smelled of lavender. The essence was supposed to be soothing, relaxing, but as she lay there with eyes wide open in the darkness, Grace knew that no lavender or anything else was going to allow her to rest this night.

  And really, she had no right to rest, given that by this time tomorrow night the kind and gallant Captain Lord might very well be dead.

  All because of me.

  She got up. Her soft white cotton nightgown all but glowed in the darkness, and she found a wrap and cinched it tightly around her waist. What she was about to do went against every rule of decency and morality, but neither virtue were worth more than a man’s life.

  A life she was determined would not end because of her.