by Golden Angel
Sudden comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and it was Grace's turn to blink in confusion at his expression.
"I see," he said, nodding. "Good, then."
Tapping her finger against the table, Grace looked away from him, wondering exactly what it was he saw.
"I'm sorry as well."
Her heart stilled. Those words could not have just come out of his mouth. Alex was never sorry. He was always supremely confident in everything that he did, sure of the rightness of it. Besides which...
"For what?" she asked, a bit faintly, still tapping away on the table. A little faster now as nervous energy tingled to life inside of her.
"I should have listened to you about Irene. I shouldn't have dismissed her behavior." Alex hesitated and then shook his head slightly. She could only stare in fascination as the facade of his stone face cracked, just the tiniest bit, and regret shown through. "Hugh and I spoke with her, and it's not something you'll have to worry about again."
******
That one slender finger, moving up and down, was the only sign of Grace's discomposure. Alex found himself fascinated with that small chink in her armor, wondering what it was she was thinking. Silence had never been Grace's natural state when they'd first married; she'd always been talking about something, enthusing over the latest play or book, or a story that she'd heard. It made the back of Alex's neck itch to be eating a meal with her at last, and to have her shutting him out.
She stared off into the distance, her pretty pink lips pursed, as if she didn't dare open her mouth for the words that might come tumbling out. Color pinked her cheeks as her mouth twisted, as if she was seeing the humor in the situation. Years after she'd been upset about Irene, he'd finally admitted that she was right and taken care of it. Alex saw the irony. Once Irene had thrown herself at him and forced his eyes open, he'd wondered if his friendship with the younger woman was part of why Grace had thought they'd been "foolish" when they'd married. Had she thought that his feelings for Irene were more than brotherly, no matter that he'd told her otherwise?
Perhaps. Although he still couldn't understand why, if so. The way he'd treated both of them had been worlds apart. Irene was the little scamp that he'd spent his life protecting like a little sister; Grace was his wife.
"Apology accepted," she said, finally. Yet, even then, he didn't sense any crumbling of the wall between them. Maybe Irene hadn't had anything to do with why Grace left him.
Which meant that he was just as baffled as before.
They'd ridden in the carriage together all afternoon, he'd spanked her, held her on his lap while she'd slept, and now they were sharing a meal, but she was as far away as ever from him. As if during their time apart she'd erected an invisible shell that kept him from truly being able to touch her. It made him ache in a thousand different ways, from his head, to his heart, down to his cock. What he wouldn't give to just strip her down out of her dress, strip off that invisible armor, and love her back into herself.
Somehow, he didn't think she'd appreciate the sentiment. He had no desire to force himself on an unwilling woman, even if he had been rock hard all afternoon after spanking her.
Besides which, in a few minutes she was going to be furious with him for a whole new reason. His stomach full, he pushed away his plate and sighed, picking up his jacket as he stood.
"Come," he said, walking around the table and holding out his hand. "I'll show you to your room."
Grace looked at his hand like it was a viper, ready to bite and poison her, and Alex let it drop. Part of him wanted to push her to at least accept a small civility from him, but right now he was too damn tired. He just wanted to go upstairs and get this over with. The perfect end to a frustrating, and what felt like a fruitless, first day of reconciliation with his stubborn wife.
She followed him upstairs and into the room docilely enough, proof, perhaps, of her own exhaustion. But Grace was quick of mind, and it took her less than a minute to take in the contents of the room and realize exactly what he'd done. By that time he was already locking the door and tucking the key into his pocket.
"No," she said, tersely, her hands clenched into small fists at her side. "No, no, no, no, no."
"Yes."
"I won't."
"Won't what? Sleep?" He walked past her, heading for his trunk. "That's your choice, but I intend to get some rest."
The itch on the back of his neck increased, he could feel her glare slicing into his shoulder blades as he dropped his jacket onto his trunk. There was no way he was letting Grace sleep in a different room. Even if he trusted her not to try to run, considering that she wasn't exactly traveling with him of her own will, one commonality that his friends had was a belief that their wives belonged in bed with them. Although he and Grace had had separate rooms, they'd always ended up sleeping in the same one. No more separation. Not in their marriage and not their beds.
He pulled off his cravat and tossed it onto the trunk as well, before he began to loosen the cuffs to his sleeve. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grace skitter to the door and test it. He hid his grin as she mumbled something under her breath, probably a curse, when she found it locked. Rolling up his shirtsleeves, he nonchalantly ambled over to the pitcher of water and large bowl that had been left for them.
Although he'd been tempted to order Grace a bath, he'd wanted to see how she'd react to their shared accommodations first. After all, she might not be interested in bathing with him in the room, and he certainly wasn't going anywhere. He'd requested a room on the upper floor, but his Grace was tenacious enough to try and make it out a window, given enough time on her own.
"I'm not getting in that bed with you."
"That's also your choice. But you should know that I have no plans to sleep on the floor tonight." Alex was gambling on Grace's love of comfort to keep her off of the floor too. He'd had the innkeeper remove the carpet to make the floor even less appealing that it would have otherwise been. Splashing water on his face, Alex sighed with pleasure as he rubbed away the grime of the day.
After drying his face and arms with one of the provided towels, he looked up to see Grace still hovering by the door, a look of determination on her face.
"I'm not going to- to act as your wife, there," she said, pointing to the bed.
He raised his eyebrows as her chin tilted upwards in defiance. "I have no interest in forcing an unwilling woman."
Grace gaped at him, looking remarkably like a fish, and he had to hide his smile.
"I'm entirely unwilling to even be here!"
"That's different," he declared as he began unbuttoning his shirt. It didn't escape his notice that her eyes went to the bare skin that was revealed there before she looked away. On their honeymoon she'd told him that watching him undress was fascinating, she'd been entranced by the differences in their bodies. It heartened him to know that she was still affected, even though she now had others to compare him to. Somehow that didn't wane his attraction to her, it only made him want to prove to her that he was better. Letting his shirt drop to the floor, he started walking towards her, noticing the tension that gripped her - and he was fairly certain it wasn't just anger or fear which was causing her cheeks to turn pink. He put his fingers under her chin, tilted her head back to look at him. Leaning forward, he saw her pupils flare as the blush in her cheeks deepened. Male smugness wove its way around his bones; no matter what else lay between them, she was still attracted to him. "You are my wife, for better or worse, and we are going to be together. But when I make love to you again, Grace, it will be because you beg me to."
The moment hung between them, tension humming in the air, before she jerked away, slapping at his hand. The look she gave him made it clear that she’d rather die first. Alex straightened and turned away, heading for the bed so that he could remove his boots. He also needed a moment to compose himself, because his erection was throbbing, and he was already tempted to show Grace just how easily it would be for her to become willing. Bu
t it wasn't the right time yet.
"Why?"
The question cut through the air before he'd made it halfway to the bed. Alex looked over his shoulder to see her standing there, an air of desperation hanging around her that he hadn't sensed before. He'd been about to reply flippantly, but something in her eyes made him stop. The question wasn't rhetorical, it seemed to mean something to her.
"Why what?"
"Why me? I need to know Alex. Why not just divorce me and find a new wife?"
"There'd be a scandal..." he said slowly. "Where would you go? What would you do? London Society would never welcome you back into its fold, not with the way that you've behaved over the years. My name has been all that's kept them from throwing you out."
"That's my problem, not yours," she said, scowling furiously. "I'm a bigger scandal than a divorce would be. Can you imagine what they'll say when they find out that we've reconciled? I've been cuckolding you for years."
Alex shrugged as he sat down on the bed and began tugging off his boots. He'd become inured to the ton's opinion over those years. If they thought him a fool for taking back his wife, he didn't care, although he thought that there would be just as many who approved of him taking her in hand. What he didn't understand was why Grace seemed so concerned with what they thought of him, when it was her fault they were in this situation in the first place.
He'd attempted to approach Grace, several times before. At least once a year for the past three years, actually. Every time, she'd tensed and fled, and he'd backed away, both hurt and frustrated by her response. Whenever he showed up in the same area as her, she was gone just as quickly. But he'd never shown up in London during the Season before, he'd always attempted to broach her in private. So this year he'd upped the ante in more ways than one.
"I don’t want another wife, I want you," he said simply. It was the unvarnished truth as he saw it.
His wife gaped at him, apparently rendered speechless by his answer. The astonishment and shock clearly written across her face was even greater than this morning's when he'd told her that he wanted to reconcile. Which he found confusing. Hadn't he always shown Grace how much he wanted her? Well, besides when he'd been foolish enough to let her go without a fight.
Cursing himself again for his idiotic pride, for allowing her to slip away from him so easily, Alex knew that he would have to work to undo the damage he'd contributed to their rift. But he was determined that she do the same.
******
To say that Grace was confused was an understatement. Why was Alex so determined to have her when any woman would do for him? His behavior was completely counteracting his words to her father and she didn't know what to believe. Perhaps something had happened in the deal between her husband and her father that she didn't know about, something that required her to be reconciled with Alex.
She didn't trust this rapid turnaround, even though some small part of her was burning with hope.
Hope hurt. Hope was what would grind her already shattered heart into dust. Hope was what had caused her to lower her defenses to Alex in the first place, to believe that something more was growing between them.
So she took that little sliver of light and tucked it away, like she was closing it up into Pandora's Box, just like in the myth.
Fortunately, Alex had already gotten into the bed, after giving her a long, considering look, and his back was to her. Gritting her teeth, she followed him, practically clinging to the edge of the bed so that she didn’t accidentally touch him. She wasn’t going give him the satisfaction of thinking that she was afraid of him. She didn’t want him to think that she still cared, that sleeping next to him would bother her.
Tears slid silently down her face, and she told herself they were tears of anger and frustration, but she wasn't entirely sure that was true. Her emotions were utter chaos, as if all the careful walls she'd built up had tumbled down, the compartments emptied, and now she was drowning in them.
She missed Conyngham and the simplicity of their relationship. The caring of friendship without deeper emotions. Trusting him with her body had been easy, because she hadn't had to trust him with her heart.
Now she was realizing why it had been so easy to keep her heart out of her affairs: Alex had still held the battered shards.
Chapter 3
The house that Eleanor and Edwin had rented out was beautifully furnished, but quite cozy, Irene was relieved to find. They'd asked her and Hugh to stay with them for the duration of their visit to Bath, since they would only be in town long enough to attend Wesley's wedding, and then Hugh wanted to move on to the estates. Edwin would be taking Eleanor to his own estates at the same time, although they were near enough for visiting, thankfully.
Irene was both looking forward to and dreading seeing her sister-in-law again. She hoped that Eleanor would be able to forgive Irene for her part in Edwin's discovery of Eleanor's plans. Although Eleanor had been gracious enough in the letter that she'd written to Irene, accepting her heartfelt apology, she wouldn't blame Eleanor for holding a grudge. Especially if she and Edwin were still unhappy.
But Eleanor was nothing but smiles and embraces when she greeted Hugh and Irene. Edwin, as darkly imposing as ever, kept her close by his side, but Eleanor seemed content to be there. Her face was paler and more wane than it had been in London, but Irene hoped it wasn't because she was unhappy here with Edwin.
"We've been invited by the Countess of Spencer to dinner tonight, if you feel well enough for it," Eleanor said cheerfully. "If not, we can make your excuses."
"I'd like to go and meet the future Countess," said Hugh, grinning cheerfully at his sister. The look of eager anticipation that passed between them was so filled with sibling understanding that Irene felt envious for a moment. Not that she doubted Hugh's love for her, but since she'd never had a sibling, she felt envious over the closeness that Eleanor had with her brother and his friends. Her husband glanced down at her, his blue eyes sweeping over her as if checking to ensure she was well enough to go along with his plans. "As long as Irene's amenable. We can wait till tomorrow, if you'd prefer to rest, sweetheart."
"No, I'd like to go," Irene said, although she did give Eleanor a plaintive look. "Do I have time for a bath, beforehand?"
"Of course, I've already had one drawn up for you," Eleanor said, detaching herself from Edwin's side and taking Irene's arm. She gave her brother a look. "For you too, and I recommend you use it before you and Edwin disappear into the study for scotch. Come, Irene, we can have a nice coze while you bath."
Irene giggled as Eleanor drew her away, ignoring Hugh sputtering behind her.
******
Letting Irene soak in her bath first, Eleanor directed the maids in unpacking the trunks her brother and sister-in-law had brought. She was relieved to have them in the house, as a bit of a buffer between herself and Edwin, as she still hadn't told her husband about her condition. Placing her hand over her stomach, she worried at her lower lip, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer. Already her body was changing, not just her level of energy, but she'd noticed that her stomach and breasts were becoming rounder. Her recent cravings for sweets could only explain so much of that.
Hugh had insisted that he and Irene share a room, which hadn't surprised Eleanor, although she'd told him that he'd have to bathe where she'd had the tub set up for him. She wanted a chance to be alone with Irene and find out what had happened in London while she was away. More importantly, she wanted to know what had happened between Irene and Hugh, since the letters they'd exchanged hadn't been especially detailed.
At first Irene seemed almost reluctant to confide in Eleanor, but once she began to tell her tale, Eleanor understood why. She gasped at hearing that Hugh had punished Irene in front of someone - Lord Brooke of all people! Yet, she understood why as well. If she'd known why Irene had wanted to leave the capital, she would have never invited her sister-in-law to escape to Bath with her.
Of course, then
Edwin wouldn't have overheard Irene talking and then come to Eleanor the way he had, and maybe they wouldn't be quite so happy now. Well, as happy as she could be when she was still worried about whether he had feelings for her. Although he behaved as a doting husband, she'd seen other marriages where the man behaved that way and the lady had no idea he had a mistress on the side. Most of the time she felt completely secure in his affections, but she still had those niggling doubts that wouldn't let her go.
If only the blasted man would tell her how he felt about her.
"Have you received any word from Lady Brooke?" Irene asked as she dressed, the maid helping to cinch her into an evening gown appropriate for dinner at the Countess'.
"No, should I have?" Eleanor asked, startled out of her reverie. She knew there was quite a bit of animosity between her sister-in-law and her best friend, so she was surprised to hear a complete lack of it in Irene's voice.
The pretty redhead worried her lower lip, sighing slightly. "Alex told Hugh and me that he wants to reconcile with her."
Eleanor burst out laughing, although there was no true humor in the situation. "That will never happen," she said, with conviction. "Grace would run to America first. In fact, I'm not sure she hasn't thought of it already."
"What happened between them?" Irene asked, settling herself down on the chair next to Eleanor's now that she was dressed. The dark green silk that she'd put on brought out the emerald of her eyes and made her red hair look gloriously rich. The pale cream of her skin glowed in the firelight. "Do you know?"
"I do, but I can't betray Grace's confidence, I'm sorry."
Irene waved her hand. "No, no, of course you shouldn't. I just wish that there was something I could do for them... she seems so unhappy and I know Alex has been miserable since she left him."
That made Eleanor raise her eyebrows. After all, for him to be miserable over his wife's separation from him, wouldn't he have to care about Grace? Yet, from what Grace had told her, Alex had never been particularly invested in her personally. Of course, Irene could have a different perspective.