Sara continued to sip her tea even after Grace stopped talking, but her wise gaze remained on Grace, full of compassion and wisdom. Finally, she put her teacup down and folded her hands on the table. “Men are strange creatures,” she said. “When my sister died, my father went into a deep depression. He blamed himself for what happened.”
“Your sister’s death was not his fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Nevertheless, he felt responsible.”
“So you’re saying that Michael blames himself for his injury?”
“Possibly. One thing I’ve learned is that men like to be in charge. They need to feel they’re in control. It sounds as if Michael isn’t in control. Does he rely on you for many things?”
“In some instances, yes. He also has Tarik, the manservant he brought from the Crimea. Michael relies on him as well.”
“He’s not in control and therefore feels out of control. He feels like less of a man.”
Grace stared at Sara, attempting to take all of this in. Some of it she had already speculated, but hearing it said by someone else made it all the more clear. “How did you get so wise, Sara?”
Sara shrugged and looked down at the table as pink climbed up her cheeks. “I’m quiet. People tend to overlook me, and it gives me a chance to observe them. For the most part, they’re very transparent.”
Grace wanted to comfort her friend, for she could see the sorrow on Sara’s face. Because she was so quiet and, well, somewhat plain, people did tend to discount her. What they didn’t realize was that a very intelligent person lay beneath the shyness.
“I feel privileged to call you a friend, Sara.”
Sara looked up in surprise, the blush rising up her cheeks. “And I you, Grace. If there is any time you need to talk, I’m always available to listen.”
—
Grace left the teahouse feeling lighter and with a smile on her face. Talking to Sara had worked. While her problems were by no means resolved, it felt good to know there was someone she could talk to.
She had not realized how alone she felt in this new life. Part of her envied the people she passed on the street. They were going about their lives, just as they had done the day before and just the way they would tomorrow. And it seemed to her that they were moving in slow motion when she was moving at a speed far faster than anything she’d experienced before. She knew that was not so. They weren’t strolling slowly on purpose. It was Grace who was different now. Talking to Sara had brought her back to the life everyone else was living. Even if it was only for an hour.
She was still feeling the lightness in her step when she reached the manor house. She handed her hat, parasol, and pelisse to Alfred. The door to the study was open, but Michael was not in there. She went in search of him, but he found her first as he was coming down the hall from his rooms.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, his expression twisted into anger.
Chapter Thirteen
Grace stopped, stunned. All the good feelings from her time with Sara drained out of her.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Michael said, waving his hand in the air as if indicating that he’d been running through the house searching for her. Which he probably had been. “I was frantic. No one knew where you were.”
She could see that he truly was frantic. There was panic in his eyes, and his pinched expression betrayed his fear. But what was he afraid of? “I told you at breakfast this morning that I had the festival committee meeting.”
He stopped abruptly, his anger slowly giving way to confusion. The panic in his eyes clouded with a different kind of fear, one that she had seen too many times to count. Every time she witnessed his bewilderment, it broke her heart.
“You did?” His voice was thin, almost like a child’s voice. His eyes narrowed, and she could see him thinking hard, trying to recall that conversation. “I don’t remember.”
Tea with Sara already seemed a lifetime ago. The good feelings were completely gone. She was right back where she had been since Michael returned. Lost, alone, and scared.
“You had just kissed me,” she said in a gentle voice. “And you were about to leave for your meeting with Roberts. I reminded you that I would be gone for most of the afternoon, and I told you why.”
Her heart went out to her husband as he stood before her, looking confused and embarrassed and so lost. She had no idea what it would be like to lose parts of your day. There were times when she was frustrated by his forgetfulness, but she couldn’t imagine how frustrated he was, especially considering he’d never been that way before.
She had learned a few things in the weeks since Michael’s return. Dwelling on the difficulty only made things worse. So she changed the subject before Michael became more agitated. “How did your meeting with Roberts go?”
He ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something.
Grace leaned forward. “Pardon? I didn’t hear you.”
His expression was so bleak that her stomach dropped. Oh, no. The meeting hadn’t gone well.
“I think I asked him the same question too many times. But I couldn’t remember that I had already asked him.”
Grace looked up and down the hallway. There were no servants about, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t appear. She motioned for Michael to follow her into her suite of rooms. Mercifully, it was empty, and she closed the door to discourage anyone who might enter.
“What happened?” she asked, facing him.
“I couldn’t remember what he said about the rents, and so I asked. Many times, I fear.”
“Do you remember now?”
“No.”
She wanted to hug him tight, to protect him from everything, but that wasn’t feasible, and neither would he want her to do that, so she tried to be practical. She’d been foolish to think her conversation with Sara would change anything. All it had done was give her a glimpse of normalcy, something that was sadly lacking in her life.
“And what did he say?” she asked.
“He answered my questions, of course, but I could see he was surprised.” He looked at her with tormented eyes. “I can’t do this, Grace.”
“Nonsense. You can do this. We must simply find a way that will help you.” She was becoming very good at faking strength, pretending to be positive when she was anything but. If she didn’t, no one would, and all would be lost.
“I hate this.” He paced away and stood before her bed, running his hands along the sides of his thighs. “I hate that this happened to me. I hate that I brought this to you.”
She stepped up behind him and touched his rigid shoulder. “I know you do, but it did happen, and we have to find a way to live with it.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I keep thinking it will go away, that I will wake up and be better, but that’s not going to happen. My greatest fear is that I will be this way for the rest of my life and that people will pity me.”
Grace gave in to her desire and hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, pressing her cheek to the tight muscles in his back and closing her eyes. She wanted to fix everything. To make it all go away. For Michael’s sake more than hers.
He turned within her embrace and wrapped his arms around her. His hug was nearly crushing, but she didn’t mind. She’d learned not to take moments like these—any moment, really—for granted.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered, “we will make it. I promise you that, Michael.”
He made a sound, and she realized that her once unflappable, happy husband was crying. She’d never, in all the years of knowing him, seen him cry.
She hugged him tighter and let her own tears flow. It felt good to share the anxiety and the fear and the uncertainty, even if they didn’t speak a word of it.
—
The effects of Michael’s day were telling. Grace sat across from him at the dinner table. Once again he picked at his food, toying with it but not eating. He’d barely
spoken to her since they sat down. While this was normal behavior, Grace hated it. She thought of her conversation with Sara. Did Michael pull away from her because he was ashamed that he had broken down in front of her? Did he close her out because he felt so out of control?
She would never forget the panic in his eyes or the tremor in his voice. How horrible that he had been roaming the house, frightened because he couldn’t find her. On top of that, he had been dejected because of his meeting with Roberts. He’d probably gone in search of her to tell her about it, and she hadn’t been there for him.
The emotional turmoil of the afternoon had taken its toll on him. He appeared exhausted. Whether he accepted it or not, he was susceptible to weariness. Could a head injury take time to regain strength, like a physical injury to one’s leg or arm?
She had a lot of theories and questions that she’d peppered Tarik with, but he knew little about the workings of the brain. All he could tell her was what seemed to work for Michael. But what if there was something out there that the doctors hadn’t thought of? Some way for him to cope or maybe, God willing, a cure? What if there was a doctor who could give them the answers they needed?
To break the uncomfortable silence and to quiet her overactive thoughts, Grace cleared her throat and broached the subject she’d been nervous about voicing.
“As you know,” she said, a little too loudly. She quieted her voice. “In the past, it’s been tradition to open the grounds and part of the house to the townspeople on the last day of the festival. Last year Nigel did not open the house, and I fear the people were disappointed.”
Michael looked up at her for the first time since they sat down. “Why would Nigel not host the last day of the festival? The festival is one of the strongest memories I have as a small lad.”
“As is the case for most of the townspeople. Now that we are back in residence, the committee…Well, they would like us to open the house this year and resume the tradition.”
Michael frowned. “Why wouldn’t we?”
She hesitated to speak her thoughts, especially considering what happened earlier in the day. “I just don’t want to overburden…the…um, the staff.”
“Nonsense.” Michael waved his fork in the air. “They love it as much as everyone else. And if I recall, we are the ones who do most of the serving.” He smiled, and it was as if they had gone back two years, to before. Sometimes that was how she thought of her life. Before. And now they were in the after.
“They work hard,” Michael went on, spearing a piece of his potato. “They deserve to make merry. What are you worried about, Grace?”
Grace hesitated. “It will be a much larger crowd than at the church that first Sunday.”
His head jerked up, and he leveled a hard look at her. “Do you not believe I can handle the festival?”
The accusation made her want to squirm in her seat. “I…”
He put down his fork and carefully placed his napkin beside his plate. For a long moment he stared down at the table.
“Michael…” Grace wished she could start this conversation anew. She’d had no intention of questioning his abilities. She’d only been worried about him.
Michael held up his hand, and she stopped. A dreadfully long silence followed in which she could vaguely hear the servants talking in the kitchen.
Finally, Michael met her gaze, his eyes flat. “You are right to question me, of course. I’m…I didn’t react well in church that first Sunday. I was unprepared. But I will be fully prepared for the festival. I can’t hide from them, Grace.”
“I’m not suggesting you hide.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing her.
“Fine. Maybe I was suggesting that you hide.” She looked away.
“Gracie, look at me. Please, Gracie.”
She pulled her gaze back to his. She’d expected to see anger, but it was conspicuously absent.
“Thank you. I know you worry about me.”
She tried to smile, but it wobbled so that she feared it didn’t resemble a smile at all. “I just want…” She laughed feebly. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Things to be the way they used to?”
She shook her head. “There is no going back, just forward.”
“I wish I had your positive outlook.”
She looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times. “I just want you to be happy, Michael. You don’t seem happy anymore.”
When the silence stretched, she looked at him. He was studying her pensively. “I try, Grace, but most times it’s beyond me. I’m at my happiest when I’m with you.”
“Are you?” The question had passed her lips before she could stop it. “I feel as if you try to avoid me most of the time.” He averted his gaze, and her heart dropped. “I’m here to help you, Michael.”
“I’m unsure if anyone can help me with this. I’m afraid this is who I am and who I will always be.”
“Then we need to find ways to cope with it, but avoiding me, closing me out, is not a way.”
A corner of his lips lifted in a sad attempt at a smile. “I love you.”
Taken aback, she blinked. His words soaked through her broken and bruised heart, giving her some hope, little though it may be.
“I now know why my soul remembered you when my brain couldn’t. You are my strength, Grace.”
“Oh, Michael. You always know what to say to quiet me.”
He laughed, and it was such a beautiful sound to hear. “We will host the last day of the festival, as is befitting our stations as the earl and countess of Blackbourne. I will not hide from my duties, and neither will you ask me to hide.”
“Of course, my lord.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “I will let the committee know, the next time we meet.”
Chapter Fourteen
Late that night Grace stood in the middle of her bedroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She smoothed the white fabric of her nightgown over her slim hips. She’d always wished she had more of a figure. A tinier waist and more rounded hips and bosom would have been nice. Instead, she was cursed with a slim build and smallish breasts. But Michael had never minded. He’d always told her she was perfect just the way she was.
Maybe with childbirth, her hips would have widened just a bit and her breasts would have been a little more plump. But there had been no babies, as much as they had tried and hoped and prayed. It had always been a disappointment for both of them that she had not become pregnant.
Michael had told her that he was happy to spend the rest of his life with just her. He’d joked that it didn’t matter anyway, since William was the one who had to carry on the title.
Well, now it was up to Michael to carry on the title. And he didn’t seem at all interested in resuming the physical side of their marriage. Oh, they’d kissed a few times, and it had stirred her senses. She thought it had stirred more than Michael’s senses. She’d felt his erection and known he was excited. But he never acted on it and always behaved as if nothing had happened after they kissed. And he’d not requested his husbandly rights, much to her disappointment.
She didn’t just want a child to carry on the Ashworth name and the earldom. She wanted to make love to her husband.
When they moved back to the manor house, she’d decided that if they were to resume that part of their relationship, then it would have to be up to her to instigate it. And yet that first night, as she’d lain awake and told herself to go to him, another part of her had talked her out of it. He was tired. He was still injured. What if he didn’t want her anymore?
What if he didn’t want her? What would she do? She knew enough about men to know that they became excited easily and that kissing could lead to certain physical reactions. Men weren’t as in control of their bodies as they liked to think.
What if the erections she’d felt were nothing but a physical response to kissing a woman? That was the only reason she could think of for him not wanting to come to her at night.
&n
bsp; But tonight would be different. She needed an answer, whether it be aye or nay. She needed to know if Michael wanted her.
She drew in a deep breath, took one last look at her reflection, determined that there wasn’t much she could do with things that Mother Nature hadn’t given her, and walked to the connecting door that led to Michael’s room.
She knocked softly but heard no answer, so she pushed the door open slowly. The room was dark, the fire in the grate banked for the night. To her relief, Tarik was not there. Her request that he have his own quarters had been honored.
Michael was lying in bed, but when she stepped into the room, he turned to his back and sat up. “Grace?”
She stopped, suddenly so nervous that she wasn’t sure she could speak. This was silly, being nervous in front of her husband. It wasn’t like this was her wedding night and she was an untried virgin. They’d been married for five years, for heaven’s sake.
“What’s wrong, Grace?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
The question cut her to the quick, but she refused to back down even though an excuse was on the tip of her tongue. I just wanted to check on you or something equally inane.
“I, um…” Being a siren had never been one of her strengths, but she boldly moved forward. Well, maybe not boldly. Her feet moved her in the right direction, and before she knew it, she was sitting on the side of the bed.
Michael watched her with what she could only determine was wariness.
“I miss you, Michael.”
“I missed you, too, Grace.”
“No. I miss you. I miss sleeping next to you, being with you. I miss us.” Why was this so difficult? He was her husband. They’d talked about this before. And her conversation at dinner had emboldened her. She felt as if she had knocked down a few barriers between them. He’d told her that he loved her. That had to mean something.
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