Despite his anger, he knew his mother was correct. She always was, he was loath to admit. He wondered if flowers would smooth things over with Grace. It seemed such a paltry gesture. How could it really help? Once he spoke with the gardener and watched as he chose some of the most beautiful specimens in the flower garden, even Richard’s own heart seemed to lift and smile at their splendour and beauty.
* * * *
At the sound of the tap on the door, Grace froze.
“Grace?”
She recognised Richard’s voice. He was the last person she wanted to speak to. Had he not caused enough upset and hurt already that day? She decided to ignore him.
“Grace?” he called out again. “Are you there?”
Grace fought within herself. She knew it was the height of bad manners to ignore someone. Nevertheless, she chose to remain silent as she lay upon her bed. She had long since stopped crying, but her face was puffy and blotchy. With one fell swoop, Richard had cut her to the quick.
Again, he tapped on the door. “Grace?”
She sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “What do you want?”
“Please open the door, Grace.”
“Why?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
Grace did not reply, and the silence stretched on for what seemed like hours.
“Please, Grace. I am sorry,” he pleaded.
She was not entirely confident she heard what he said. She slipped off the bed and tiptoed towards the door.
“Did you hear me, Grace?”
She remained silent.
“I am sorry.”
There. He said it again. She had heard him correctly.
“Please open the door, Grace. I wish to speak to you.”
“Well, I do not wish to speak with you.” Her voice cracked with emotion. It was evident that she had been weeping.
“Then I will stay here by the door and speak to you through it.”
“Please, Richard. Go away. I do not wish to speak to you.”
“I am not going anywhere, Grace.”
Again, she said nothing. She waited and waited, unsure of whether he was still there or not. She was about to reach out and open the door to see for herself when he spoke again. “What I said earlier was wrong. I know that now. It was a stupid thing to say; it was a heartless and thoughtless thing to say. I treated you with disrespect, Grace, and you deserve better than that. Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?”
Almost involuntarily, Grace reached out her right hand and opened the door. She held it open only a foot and stared up at his face gazing down at her. “I told you,” she whispered, “that I did not wish to speak to you.”
“I know, but I cannot rest easy until I speak to you, until I have told you how sorry I am and how foolish I was.”
A tear escaped from her eye and ran down her left cheek. She sniffled. She stared at the floor, unspeaking, not ready to accept kind words from him.
“I spoke in haste and without thought, and I was wrong. I was more than wrong, Grace. I was a damned imbecile.”
She looked up at him sharply, eyes widening at hearing such a word.
“Forgive me, but, as you can see, I am angry with myself. I have treated you, and spoken to you and about you, with disrespect, and…” he hesitated and took a deep breath, “and as you quite rightly pointed out, as though you are nothing but a commodity to be used, bought, and sold.” He stepped forward and pushed the door open gently with his left foot.
Grace involuntarily stepped back.
“Do not be alarmed; I mean you no harm.”
Grace trembled and stared wide-eyed at him. “Wh…”
Richard slowly, carefully but deliberately, reached out and took hold of her hand with his left. “Please believe me, Grace, when I tell you that you are not a commodity to be used, bought, and sold. I have accepted to take you as my wife. In a few days’ time, I will promise to love, honour, and cherish you for the rest of my natural life.” He paused and gave her hand the gentlest of squeezes.
Grace hung her head and wept unashamedly. All the hurt and anguish came out in those tears. She felt childish standing at the door thusly and weeping, but at that moment she powerless to do anything else.
“I wish to make it up to you. I want to prove to you that my words are not empty and meaningless. Grace, please forgive me, and please…” He pushed the door with his left elbow opening it wide, stepped slightly into the room, and pulled from behind his back a beautiful bouquet of flowers from his own garden.
“Oh!” Grace exclaimed with elation. “They are beautiful!” Carefully she extracted her hand from his and reached out to accept the flowers, deeply touched by the gesture.
“I am glad you like them. I fear they may be the last blooms our garden may produce this summer. Autumn is encroaching fast.”
She looked up into his face to see his eyes were firmly fixed upon hers. The intensity of his gaze took her by surprise. She did not expect to see such ardent, passionate, and genuine emotion within it. “Such a pity. I should have liked to see the gardens in their prime.”
“And so you shall next year, my dear Grace.”
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to beat faster. Unless her ears deceived her, she believed he called her my dear. “Yes,” she breathed heavily.
“Now, I have a sandwich or two waiting for us. Perhaps we could take that picnic now?” he inquired with a hopeful smile, and immediately she laughed.
“Yes, perhaps we could.”
“Good.” He smiled and withdrew from the room. “I will give you a moment or two to gather yourself and to wash your face and meet you again in the entrance hall.”
“Very well. I shall be down directly.” She returned his smile and gently, without breaking his gaze, shut the door. She closed her eyes and leant her forehead against the cool painted wood of the door. She could not believe what had happened.
* * * *
Outside the door, Richard turned away and started walking down the gallery. He had gone but a few steps when he paused and looked to his left, through an open doorway into one of the empty guestrooms, where he saw his mother standing unmoving. She had listened to all that had passed between her son and Grace. Edwina smiled at him and nodded before he turned and made his way down the stairs to wait for Grace below. He smiled to himself as he heard his mother whisper, “Well done.”
* * * *
To say he was relieved would be an understatement. Richard could not believe his good fortune. He hoped Grace had forgiven him, although he could not be completely assured of that.
She did not keep him waiting long before she descended the stairs looking just as pretty as she had before in the lovely pink muslin dress. Of course, her eyes were a little puffy and red, but what was that to him? She had forgiven him, he hoped, and had agreed to continue their picnic.
At that hour in the day, the sun was low in the sky, but they were facing the west and would have sunshine for hours to come. They waited patiently and somewhat nervously as the footmen laid out the picnic blanket, placed scatter cushions upon it, and then neatly arranged plates and cutlery, glasses, bottles of wine, and all sorts of delicious dishes ranging from sweetmeats, to jellies, and pies.
Richard offered his hand to Grace, directed her to the plumpest of all the cushions, and helped her to sit upon it. He walked over to the other side of the blanket and seated himself facing her. It was all perfect. Now all he needed to do was curb his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to speak out of turn again and insult the poor girl.
“Would you like some wine?” he asked as he picked up two glasses and filled them with the delicious-smelling golden liquid. “This one has been in the cellar since I was ten years old.”
“Ten years old?”
Richard laughed, “Either you cannot believe I was ever that young or you are astounded at the age of the wine.” He watched as Grace joined in the laughter and visibly relaxed before his eyes.
“Well, I have never seen your likeness as a child; therefore, I do not know if I can imagine you at ten years old or not. All the same, I must admit I did not know that wine could keep for so many years.”
He remembered that Grace had grown up in India and things in her youth were bound to have been vastly different to his upbringing in England. “Firstly, remind me to show you the family portraits that we have sequestered away in the attic. Some of them either my father did not like or my brothers and I did not favour and insisted they be put out of our sight.” She tittered again, and he found he liked the sound.
“Secondly, keeping wine is an incredibly specialised business indeed. I will, of course, show you the cellar. My grandfather was the avid wine collector. My parents merely bought wine that their friends preferred. There are some old bottles in there that I am not entirely convinced it would be safe to drink.” He held her gaze for a moment, just long enough to watch the colour rise in her cheeks once again. He found he was pleased that he had the ability to effect such a change in her. She was even prettier when she smiled and flushed red.
He watched as she brought the crystal glass up to her perfectly shaped little mouth and took a sip. She swallowed the liquid, and he continued to observe, mesmerised, as she moved her tongue within her mouth, clearly thinking about the taste. “Well? What you think?”
“It is very fruity.”
“Absolutely, it is.” He took a mouthful himself and swirled it around his mouth, then shrugged. “If I’m perfectly honest with you, Grace, I cannot tell whether it is a good wine or not. I cannot even tell you which fruits it contains. I know it is fruity.” Her laughter urged him on. “And I know that I like it. Is that sufficient? Do you think me poorly educated now?”
“No, not at all. If to be well educated means that you know everything there is to know about wine, then I do believe that the majority of the human race is poorly educated.” She reached over to a bowl of fruit and picked up a succulent plum and bit into it. “Oh, that is delicious.”
“I believe they are from our orchard.” Richard eagerly leant across the picnic blanket and picked up a juicy plum for himself. “Hmm… I love this time of year, the plums are always so good.” Unfortunately for Richard, the plum he chose was particularly overripe and as he bit into it, its juice escaped from the sides and dribbled all down the front of his brocade waistcoat. He was mortified. Grace, however, found this highly amusing. He snatched at a napkin and attempted to wipe away the liquid from his clothing. Despite laughing himself, he looked up at her in mock irritation. “I suppose you think this retribution for the way in which I treated you earlier today.”
“The very thought had not occurred to me, I assure you. However, now you mention it…” The mouth Richard now thought of as lovely, twisted into a wry smile.
Richard was reaching a zenith of happiness at that moment. Finally, she was coming round. She was talking to him. She was laughing with him. They were sharing some delicious food. And he was entertaining her. Granted, his waistcoat suffered somewhat from the entertainment, but he was glad to hear her laugh and even happier to see her smile.
Chapter Nine
Whilst dressing for dinner that evening, Richard heard the familiar sound of carriage wheels crunching on the gravel drive outside. He paused with his starched white shirt halfway buttoned up and rushed to the window to see if he could spy who had arrived. He was elated when he recognised the carriage. It was his brother Edward returned from London.
Hurriedly he turned back to his valet. “Make haste! Edward is here.”
Despite the desire for alacrity, dressing seemed to take longer than it usually did. Richard tried to help his valet by doing up his own buttons and fixing his cufflinks, only adding to his agitation by getting in the valet’s way and delaying the process even more.
In the end, all his fussing and hurried dressing came to naught as, by the time he was ready to go in search of Edward, Edward himself had come in search of Richard.
“Edward!” Richard closed the space between them and embraced him.
“It’s good to be home, brother.” Edward returned the embrace, smiling at Richard. “It’s always good to be home.”
“How did it go in London?” Richard quizzed as they made their way out of the bedroom and down towards the billiards room.
“Thankfully, I was able to get there in time, speak to the people I needed to, and get back here solely to be with you.” He grinned impishly.
Richard laughed throatily, “You cannot fool me, brother. I know you did not rush back simply for me.”
“Well, no, you are correct. I did not rush back purely to see you, although you have been on my mind a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Miss Hayward. The whole marriage scheme.” They stopped walking, and he turned to face Richard. “How is that going? She seemed like a frightened little lamb the last time I was here.”
“Ah, yes. There have been one or two incidents.”
“Incidents?”
Richard rubbed his left side-whisker with slight embarrassment. “Well, Miss Hayward knows her own mind. She is a romantic creature—”
“As most young ladies are.”
“As most young ladies are,” Richard conceded, “and has a notion that she is merely a pawn in a business deal.” Richard placed his hands on his hips and stared at his brother waiting for his reaction.
“I see.” Edward stared at his shoes for a moment or two before speaking. “Yes, I believe that is quite plausible. I can see how she would feel that.”
“What?” Richard stared at his brother with incredulity. He could not believe what his ears had heard. “A pawn? A commodity to be used, bought, and sold?”
“Her words?” Edward raised his eyebrows.
Richard nodded. “Yes, her words. She thinks that she is merely a bargaining chip, that she has no value with me or with our family as a human being.” He laughed nervously. “She even had the gall to compare herself to the slaves on her father’s plantation.”
Edward simply nodded and continued walking toward the billiards room.
Numbly, as though in complete disbelief that his brother did not fully agree with his point of view, Richard followed Edward into the room and closed the door behind him and watched as Edward walked to the corner where they had a well-stocked liquor table and poured them each a snifter of brandy.
“The thing is, brother, you have to put yourself in Grace’s shoes,” Edward mused as he handed Richard a snifter.
“I have to what?”
“Oh, it is this thing,” Edward shook his head and waved his hand as though to dismiss it. “It is what they advise you to do in Westminster. If you’re going to bring something from your constituents to Parliament, put yourself in their shoes, imagine yourself in their life. What does it feel like?”
“You want me to imagine I am a woman?” Richard raised his eyebrows, his face a picture of disbelief.
Edward laughed. “No, not at all. That would be silly. What I’m suggesting is that you try to imagine how she feels. What is it like to be young lady who is told she is to marry a certain young man without knowing anything about the young man beforehand?”
“To own the truth, I have thought on that subject once or twice. I can imagine that she is filled with trepidation, and so have tried to be gentle with her. At one point, though, I spoke too plainly, and she just burst into tears and ran from me.”
“Can you blame her?”
“Well,” he huffed, “it is a bit is childish.” Richard sipped the brandy in his hand.
“True, but she is a seventeen-year-old girl, barely out of finishing school.”
Richard stood and watched his brother drink from his own glass as he thought about his words. “Mama said something similar. So I have endeavoured to be kindness personified. And, in fact, I believe it has had a positive effect on her. Now, I do not know if I have repaired the damage I did when I made her feel less than huma
n, a piece of a business contract, but I believe I have gone some way along the path to reconciliation.”
“Oh, that is good news. I am pleased to hear it.” Edward reached out and clanked his glass against Richard’s. “Then I toast you both. To Richard and Grace, may you both be very happy indeed.”
“Hear! Hear!” Richard drank deeply from his glass and hoped Grace would indeed be happy with him. The seed of affection, he now recognised, had germinated in his heart and was growing with every moment he spent with her. He had gone from thinking she was on the pretty side of plain to now believing that she was really quite a beautiful young lady. That evening, before the arrival of Edward, he acknowledged the feeling of being a fortunate man indeed to be marrying such a creature.
* * * *
Dinner that evening was a simple affair, as Edwina had no foreknowledge of Edward’s return. Edward claimed he did not mind in the least dining less formally. Everyone seemed far more relaxed than previously, and the conversation flowed easily. Richard noticed that Grace appeared considerably more comfortable, and he was pleased. He found he was beginning to desire her happiness far above anything else.
He smiled as he watched his brother and his betrothed converse. It seemed they had found a topic in common, the abolition of slavery. Edward was in full swing, in the middle of the discourse. Grace, he observed, was rapt. He smiled down at his plate as he speared another carrot with his fork. It is good that they can become friends.
However, as the evening progressed, Richard’s smile was increasingly forced. Grace spoke almost exclusively to Edward. He occupied her entire attention. Richard realised he felt jealous. He looked over at his mother and saw she was deep in conversation with Mr Hayward. Richard felt excluded. He did not like it one bit. He clenched his jaw, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and reached his glass of red wine. “Ladies, believe it is time for you to retire to the drawing room.” Despite Richard’s best efforts, his smile was brittle and he could not keep the steely glint from his eye as his gaze fell on his brother.
The Spice Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 1) Page 7