The Spice Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 1)

by Karen Aminadra

  Grace relaxed. This is just what I need to pick me up. She moved around the table and sat down. She poured herself a cup of tea and, finding herself thirstier than she realised, she drank the contents quickly despite them being stone cold. She poured herself another and picked up one of the little white bread triangles. “So you are a sandwich, are you?” she asked it before she bit into it. The bread was buttered, and between the two pieces of bread were thin crispy slices of cucumber.

  “Hmm…” she said, licking her lips. “Exceedingly tasty indeed, Mr Sandwich.”

  “Do you often talk to your food?”

  Grace almost dropped the sandwich as she spun around to see Richard standing behind her, looking highly amused. She had not realised there was an entrance to the salon from the hallway too.

  Richard explained his sudden appearance by pointing to the door he entered through. He continued to chuckle. “I do apologise. I did not mean to startle you.” He walked around the settee and sat opposite Grace on one of the armchairs. “I thought I would return to see if you were awake.”

  Grace ate the last morsel in her hand. “You did not expect to find me awake and talking to a sandwich.” She pointed to the triangles that remained on the plate. “Those are sandwiches, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are,” Richard nodded. “They are relatively new things. Mother does not approve of them. You, it appears,” he smirked, “seem to quite like them.”

  Grace knew she was blushing deeply and was greatly embarrassed but endeavoured to behave as though she was not. “Yes, I do. I like them very much. And, when your mother is not around to be offended by their presence, I would like to have them again,” she replied as evenly as she could, a smile playing at her lips.

  “I am glad to hear it. I shall make a note that when, Mama visits her friends in London, we shall dine on sandwiches,” he replied, delighted to have pleased her.

  Grace’s embarrassment waned, and she offered Richard a cup of cold tea. There was something about the situation that seemed comfortable and pleasant. The domesticity of it all pleased her. She was in a cosy sitting room, pouring her husband a cup of cold tea, which, she knew, he accepted only out of politeness.

  “What?” Richard asked as she handed him a cup and saucer filled with tea and milk.

  “Nothing.”

  “You smiled. What were you smiling at?” he asked as he leant forward and took a spoonful of sugar for his cup.

  “Oh, I did not know you took sugar in your tea,” Grace felt awkward again.

  “You were not to know.”

  “But I do know now, and I shall remember for the next time,” she promised.

  “Good. The next time we have unpleasant, incredibly cold tea, I should like sugar in it.” The ensuing laughter was companionable, comfortable.

  “I shall ring for a fresh pot to be brought up.” Grace watched as Richard rose, rang the bell, and returned to his seat.

  “Well? What were you smiling at?” He stared at her, and she knew he would continue to press until she confessed.

  With her face so red she could feel her cheeks burning, she reluctantly and quietly replied, “I smiled because I thought it was nice to be sitting here and pouring a cup of tea for my husband.” When she looked up into his face, he held her eyes steady with his gaze. The look conveyed a thousand meanings, and she knew in that moment that she had nothing whatsoever to fear from Richard Emberton.

  * * * *

  That night, Richard slept on the settee. He did not wish to be the cause of any more disquiet in his new bride. Before he retired, his mother took him aside and explained how terrifying the marriage bed could be to a young girl and especially to one who was motherless. Richard had no idea of such things and was grateful for his mother’s advice, despite the embarrassment on both sides.

  He slept fitfully, waking often. When he woke, he crept into the bedroom where Grace slept and watched over her sleeping form. She looked like an angel, so calm and at peace. He had no wish to shatter that.

  He returned to the salon and tried to sleep on the settee once more. He found he could manage to fall asleep for around an hour; then he would either move and nearly fall off the settee, or he would need to change position because he had pain in his neck or one of his legs had gone numb.

  All in all, Richard had one of the worst night’s sleep ever. Grace, on the other hand, Richard observed, slept soundly the whole night through. He wondered how long he would have to sleep on the settee, how long it would be before he could take his rightful place beside her in the bed.

  He knew he had to be patient and wait for her to intimate when she was ready. He dearly, and sincerely, hoped it would not be long. He did not know what being deprived of sleep would do to a grown man.

  It was with dark circles around his eyes that he was joined by Grace for breakfast. A small round table with two matching chairs had been added to the furniture in their private salon. He did not remember seeing them before, but they were of an old design, and he assumed that his mother had either rescued them from the attic or borrowed them from a guestroom.

  “Good morning, Richard. Did you sleep well?” Grace asked cheerily as she joined him and sat down at the table. Seeing her husband’s haggard face, she said in a small, apologetic voice, “Oh! I see you did not.”

  “No, I did not sleep well. The settee will never be a good substitute for my own bed. It is my choice to sleep there, Grace. I wish to be near you.”

  She looked up at him and smiled weakly, a torrent of emotions whirling within her. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  It took all of his willpower not to ask, “May I sleep in the bed tonight?” Instead he asked if she wanted some hot chocolate. She said she did, and he poured her a cup.

  Breakfast passed in polite conversation. Thus began their first day as husband and wife.

  Later that afternoon, Richard escaped from his daily business to curl up on the bed and take a much-needed nap.

  * * * *

  Grace and Richard seemed to settle into a routine. She assumed this was natural in marriage. Each morning, they would breakfast together in their salon, after which they would then part. Richard attended to business; Grace was free to do whatever she chose. For the most part, she spent a lot of time with Edwina learning about the house, the family history, and being shown how Emberton Hall ran on a day-to-day basis. She tried to spend as much time as she could with her father before he departed for India.

  One part of this new routine puzzled her. Each night in the bedroom, Richard would take hold of her shoulders, stare into her eyes and, bending down, kiss her tenderly upon the forehead before leaving her to sleep in the bed alone. Richard always slept on the settee.

  Grace wondered why Richard would not sleep in the bedroom with her. At first she thought it was because she had fainted on their wedding day. As time passed, Grace started to leave the bedroom door ajar each night in the hope that he would join her. She began to desire his closeness. But he did not; he remained in the salon.

  Over the days following their wedding day, Richard could not have been kinder to her. He would schedule his day so that he would breakfast with her; he would take refreshments with her around eleven o’clock; they would take luncheon together; and then in the afternoon, he would join her, his mother, and her father for afternoon tea before he returned to the library to work until dinnertime.

  Each time he joined her, he had either a little piece of information for her, an anecdote that would make her smile, or he brought her a small token. Sometimes it was a book he discovered hidden in the library, usually something from his youth. Grace loved to read fairy tales and the suchlike. One day he sought her out a little before afternoon tea, took her by the hand, and led her out into the orchard. “Look!” He stood with his arms outstretched towards the trees, a broad proud smile upon his face as though he were revealing the greatest treasure on earth.

  “What am I supposed to look at?” Grace was confused.

 
“Today is the first of October. It’s quince season.”

  “Quince?” She asked. “I’ve never had quince.”

  “Oh!” Richard drew out the sound of the vowel. “Then you are in for a great delight. Quince jelly is an Emberton family speciality.”

  “I cannot wait to try it.” Grace reached out and made to pluck one of the fruits from the tree. Richard was quick to stop her. They held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes. Grace wondered if he would ever kiss her properly. The thought did not now surprise her. She had been hoping he would kiss her for some time. She wanted him to kiss her and wished with all her being, right then, that Richard would.

  “You cannot eat them directly from the tree.” Grace heard the husky change in Richard’s voice. “They do not taste especially good that way. I’ve even heard tell they may make you sick to your stomach, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?” With his free hand he moved a stray strand of hair from across Grace’s nose. He tucked it behind her ear and she stood mesmerised. It seemed all her senses were honed in to that one sensation caused by his fingers touching her ear.

  His eyes traced the contours of her face, lingering on the shape of her mouth before they settled back to stare into her eyes. And, oh-so slowly, almost imperceptibly, he moved forward, tilting his head towards hers, and, with the gentlest of movements his lips, touched her expectant mouth. He kissed her so tenderly she thought she would cry.

  * * * *

  “Now, now, now, that’s enough of that, Grace.” Mr Hayward’s ample frame seemed to jiggle as he shook his head at her. “Let’s not mar this moment with hysterics.”

  Grace felt she could not help herself. The moment had finally arrived where she was forced to say goodbye to her father, perhaps forever. She did not know when she would ever see him again or even if she would see him again. The likelihood of being able to so freely leave England and travel to India was slim at best. “I cannot help myself. You do not know how much I will miss you, Papa.”

  Mr Hayward reached out and took hold of Grace’s hands and brought them up to his lips. He kissed them affectionately and then pulled her into an embrace. “All will be well, my dear. All will be well.”

  Grace clung onto her father for dear life, as though the tighter she gripped his coat, the longer he would remain with her. It could not be. The carriage awaited, as did the ship in the London docks that was to take him away to another continent.

  She felt an arm about her waist and turned to see Richard standing close behind her. “Come, my dear. I will take care of you.” Grace’s breath caught in her throat. She was torn between the emotion of Richard’s words and the desperation she felt at losing her father.

  “There, you see?” her father pronounced through his own tears. “All will be well.” He withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. He shoved the damp piece of linen back into place and held out his hand to shake Richard’s. “You take good care of my girl, do you hear?”

  Grace watched as Richard clasped her father’s hands in both of his and replied emphatically, “I give you my word as a man of honour that I most certainly will. I thank you for the trust you have placed in me, Mr Hayward…I mean, Papa…and I look forward to continuing our relationship through the many letters I am certain will pass between us all.”

  Mr Hayward nodded, “Indeed they will, young man, indeed they will.”

  He turned back to Grace, “You see? We will write frequently, not only to each other but through the business. And if your husband permits, I might send the occasional gift along with our shipments of spices.”

  He stepped forward to embrace Grace once again and spoke into her hair as he rested his cheek upon the top of her head. “You’re my beloved only child. Words cannot express my feelings for you. I will miss you sorely but am comforted in the knowledge that, in Richard, you have a good man for a husband. You will have a good life here, of that I know.”

  Grace watched, a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, as he stepped back, bowed to them all, and turned to climb into the carriage. Once he was securely seated and the door closed, he leant out of the window. “Adieu, my beautiful daughter. We will see each other anon.”

  “Adieu, Papa!” she cried as the carriage began to pull away. She ran a few steps after it, waving vigorously. She watched as her father waved back until the carriage rounded a bend in the driveway and she could no longer clearly see him.

  She stood staring after him, feeling desolate. She could hear the others returning to the house, but the crunch of the gravel behind her told her someone approached.

  “Come inside the house now, my love.” It was Richard. He placed his arms about her shoulders and gently directed her back inside. As they walked, he kissed her on the top of her head. “It will be all right. I promise.”

  Grace wept. She allowed the tears to fall freely. She did not care what anyone thought. Her heart was breaking. She wished their parting had been happier, but it had not. She wished her father could have left England in the knowledge that his daughter was happily married, but he did not. For all he knew, Grace still loathed the idea of being married to Richard Emberton.

  With a start of realisation, Grace understood then that she did not hate the idea of being married to Richard Emberton. In fact, she liked the idea. She more than liked the idea. Without even being aware of it, she was beginning to fall in love with the man by her side. She looked up at him and could for the first time, from her own eyes, reflect the love that she now recognized shown in his.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Richard hoped tonight would be the night when he would finally be able to sleep in his own bed next to his wife, and perhaps, if she was acquiescent, he might finally consummate the marriage. He was reluctant thus far to push the boundaries of their relationship, the words she had shouted to God reverberating around his head.

  He did not wish to cause her pain. He did not wish to increase her anguish. She was his wife, after all, and there was only so long he could wait. He was a man, after all, with the same needs, wants, and passions as every other man.

  He wondered how long he could continue to be patient with her before his frustration grew too strong and he had to force the situation. He did not wish to impose himself on Grace. He wanted her to be open to his advances. He again hoped tonight would be the night.

  As he entered the salon, he found it empty. He thought she had gone to bed early. He rushed across to the bedroom but found the door open and the room vacant. Where could she be?

  He turned around and made his way down to the drawing room. She was not there either. Everyone else had gone to bed. The house was quiet. Grace was nowhere to be seen.

  Climbing the stairs two at a time, Richard returned to their room. No sign of his wife. A small but nagging thought occurred to him that she may have returned to the room her father had occupied whilst he was there. He strode purposefully towards the east wing. He could not remember precisely in which rooms his mother had accommodated them, but it would not take him long to discover which they were.

  He turned the corner and came face-to-face with Grace. In her haste to exit the room she came from, she almost collided with him.

  “I have been looking for you. What have you been doing?” Richard asked as he reached out to steady her.

  Grace looked furtively around her back towards the door. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” she answered hurriedly.

  “Grace, why the guilty look?” he enquired. “If you wish to sit in the room your father occupied simply to feel close to him again, I understand. The room is filled with his presence still.”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s it. That’s it precisely.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “I just wanted to, you know, spend some time in there.” She pointed back towards the room.

  Richard smiled down at her. “As I said before, I understand that—” He did not get to finish what he meant to say as his attention was taken by a noise that came from within the room. “What was that?”


  Grace’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “What was what?”

  Richard made to walk past her, but she stood blocking his way. “That noise! Grace, please step aside. If you lit a candle and forgot about it and the candle has fallen…it does not bear thinking about.” He looked at her seriously and could not fathom why she would not let him pass. “I must investigate.”

  He pushed her aside, opened door to the guest room, and stepped within. The sight that greeted him left him open-mouthed and utterly speechless.

  “I can explain…” Grace nervously voiced from behind him.

  Richard remained dumbfounded a few moments, staring at a young lady he had never seen before. “I think you had better.”

  * * * *

  Grace looked furtively from the newcomer to Richard as she swiftly scurried into the room and stood between them. She was filled with such panic that she did not know where to begin. An explanation was required, but what was she to say?

  Richard looked towards the fireplace, and Grace knew he could tell they had burnt something. “What is that burning in the fireplace?” He stepped forward, and Grace moved to prevent him. “Grace, what is happening?”

  The look on his face wounded her. She took a deep breath, about to tell him all, when the young lady stepped forward and began to speak.

  “It is all my fault, Mr Emberton. Please allow me the liberty of introducing myself. I am Mrs Eliza Phillips.”

  Grace watched as recognition dawned on Richard’s face and he looked at her. “Your friend Eliza? The one you went to school with who now lives in Manchester?”

  Grace nodded, “Yes, Richard.”

  “It is not Grace’s fault that I am here. It is entirely of my own doing.”

  Richard’s gaze did not move back to Eliza’s. He stared unblinkingly at Grace. She felt her mouth and throat go dry. She felt that whatever advances they made towards their closer union was utterly undone in the last few moments.