Chapter Sixteen
They boarded the train for London on a very fine spring day. Grace was nervous. She felt this journey was going to change her life in ways that she could not imagine.
She had done something that Michael might not be pleased about, but she knew she had to do it. There was a doctor residing in London who specialized in injuries to the head, and despite Michael’s insistence that he was finished with doctors, she had made an appointment. If he was angry, then so be it, but she was not going to leave any stone unturned.
However, going against Michael’s wishes made her nervous. She just knew she was standing on the precipice of something big, something that would make her dig deep and find a strength that she previously had not been aware she possessed.
Just like Tarik had warned her about.
The train station at Hadley Springs was not overly crowded, and the ride into town was pleasant. It had been a long time since Grace had visited London. While she much preferred living in the country, she did enjoy infrequent trips into the bustling city. And the prospect of a new wardrobe was enticing.
The trip took a few hours, and then they were disgorged upon London, with all of its noise and sights and sounds. The train station was quite a bit busier than the one they’d just come from. She was thankful for Tarik, who cleared a path for them, forcing his way through the crowd who parted before him, surprised to see such a tall, dark-skinned man in their midst.
Michael leaned heavily on his cane. Twice his leg gave out and he stumbled. His face was gray, his lips pressed tightly together. Though Grace stayed close, ready to catch him should he fall, he moved through the crowd. A bit inelegantly, but that was all right.
Tarik took charge of their luggage and hailed two cabs, ushering Grace and Michael into one while Tarik and Jenny, Grace’s maid, rode in the other along with the luggage. Once the door closed behind them and the noise was muffled, Michael let his head fall back and blew out a breath.
“I’d forgotten how loud London is,” he said. “And busy. So many people, and they all seem to be in a hurry.”
When one spends his entire life in the country, she thought, London was a shock to the senses. It was the reason she could take it only so long before she was ready to return to her slower-paced life.
They were scheduled to stay in town for a week. How was Michael to survive an entire week if simply walking across the station drained him? Once people discovered Michael and Grace were in residence, they would come calling. There would be invitations as well. Grace’s anxiety rose with each thought. How in the world were they going to do this?
Traffic was horrific. Carriages clogged the main roads, causing everything to come to a standstill. Michael kept his eyes closed, discouraging any discussion. Grace looked out the window but hardly noted the scenery because she was too worried about the upcoming week.
It took much longer than necessary to reach their townhouse in St. James. Relieved to be out of the confinement of the carriage, Grace fluffed her skirts and looked up at the butler and the housekeeper patiently waiting in the doorway for them. Tarik and Jenny arrived, and Tarik began instructing the servants on what to do with the luggage. They seemed a bit surprised to find the tall man issuing orders, but they jumped to do his bidding.
Together Grace and Michael walked up the steps. They were greeted by the staff, who exclaimed delight at seeing Michael for the first time since his return. Then they were shown to their bedrooms, where Grace helped Jenny unpack.
A knock on the door revealed the butler with a tray full of mail. “These started arriving a few days ago,” he said.
Grace bit back a sigh. Invitations nearly spilled off the tray. There was a mound to go through, and she was so tired that she didn’t even want to think about them, but to ignore them would be rude and definitely noted by the ton. If Michael wanted to keep up appearances, then they were required to appear at one of the events, at the very least.
And so it began.
—
The next afternoon Michael found Grace at her desk in her suite of rooms with her head in her hands, surrounded by stacks of letters.
“What are these?” He pulled a letter toward him and turned it around to see that their names were written on it.
She lifted her head and sighed. “Invitations.”
“Ah.” He tried his best to hide his reaction. When he’d decided to travel to London, he’d given a passing thought to the invitations they would receive, but like he had said to Grace, he couldn’t avoid it forever. At some point in the future, he would have to take his place in Parliament, and that would mean traveling to London. He preferred to take his first trip now, when there were fewer pressures on his shoulders. And Grace could be beside him.
They’d made love a few more times since that time in the glass house, and Michael had discovered something about himself. When he was making love with Grace, he felt more like himself than he had since his injury. She made him feel complete, whole, like a man. In bed, pleasing Grace, he needn’t remember words, he didn’t forget, he simply acted, and it was a wonderfully freeing feeling. So much that he wanted to remain beside her all night long.
She smiled up at him, but he could see her weariness. The last few weeks were taking a toll on her. She worried about him. He could see it in the looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t aware. She tried to protect him from outside forces, and while there were times he was grateful, there were also times he felt smothered. More often he was just plain angry. He should be the one protecting her. Not the other way around.
“It seems that an earl returning from the dead is very popular,” she said with forced lightheartedness. “Our calendar will be quite full if we accept everything. I was thinking that we should attend a few small dinner parties. Maybe a musicale or two.”
He winced. “Not a musicale, I beg of you.” The thought of sitting through the screeching singing, or worse, the obnoxious musical instruments, was torture. High-pitched noises grated on the inside of his brain.
“I thought the smaller musicales would be better. Fewer people. Fewer conversations.”
She was trying to protect him again, but he couldn’t hide from society forever. When he’d chosen to return home, he’d known what he was getting into. What he hadn’t known was how difficult it would be or that his brain was injured far more than he had assumed.
Of course an earl who had returned from the dead would be popular. His attendance at any social event would be the talk of the season, and the person hosting the event would rise in everyone’s estimation.
“No balls?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I wasn’t certain if you would want to attend a ball.”
“I would rather attend a ball than a musicale or a small dinner party.”
She looked at him in confusion. “I thought it would be the other way around.”
“There are many people at a ball. I can circulate without having to engage in deep conversations. Whereas at a musicale or small dinner party, I will have to know everyone’s name and be able to say it on cue. I’m afraid that might be beyond me.”
She looked down at the invitations. “I never thought of it that way.”
He tapped a stack of invitations. “Accept a few to the biggest balls.” He turned to leave but stopped and turned again. “Grace?”
She lifted her head. He hated to see the pinched look on her face. Knowing he was the cause of it nearly destroyed him.
“Yes?”
“Please stop worrying about me.”
“I can’t.”
—
While Michael met with his solicitors, Grace had her own appointment to keep. She had told her husband that she was meeting with her modiste. Instead, she sat in a surprisingly well-appointed office in Clapham and waited for the man before her to speak.
“I must confess,” said Sir William Montgomery, “that I was afraid you had not given me adequate time to carry out my investigation.”
He was a handsome man. In his late twenties, with dark blond hair and the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Not at all what she had expected from an investigator.
“Surprisingly,” he continued, “it wasn’t difficult to find the information you requested.”
After Nigel threatened Michael’s claim on the earldom, Grace had not been able to stem the tide of her worries. So she’d taken it upon herself to contact Sir William, an investigator with Scotland Yard and a man known for his discretion. In the weeks since Michael’s return, she had discovered an inner strength that had surprised her—just like Tarik had said she would. She had not forgotten Nigel’s threats, and she was determined to be armed with information, at the very least, should Nigel make any more accusations.
She leaned forward in her chair, eager to learn what Sir William had unearthed about her brother-in-law.
“It seems,” he said, “that Lord Nigel Ashworth has a few blemishes upon his record.”
“Blemishes?” Her heart pounded in excitement. What new lows had she stooped to that she was excited to discover Nigel had blemishes? Whatever that meant.
“It seems he likes to frequent…” Sir William turned red and he coughed into his hand. “Er…well…”
“I assure you, Sir William, you cannot shock me. Please do tell.”
“Lord Nigel likes to frequent bawdy houses.” He dipped his head and stared hard at the papers in his hand.
“Bawdy houses,” Grace repeated. “It’s not unusual for a man to enjoy such…entertainment.”
He swallowed loudly. “True enough, my lady, but these houses aren’t the respectable ones that the nobility frequent. These cater to…the baser…proclivities.”
Poor Sir William. Grace feared his reddening face would burst into flames. She had the impression that he wished to be anywhere but here.
“Baser proclivities,” she repeated. What did that mean? She wasn’t about to ask the poor man. Instead, she would unleash her imagination and keep her thoughts to herself. Whatever these proclivities were, they appeared to be bad enough that Sir William thought it important to tell her. “What is the name of this establishment?” she asked.
His head snapped up in alarm. “My lady, I don’t think—”
“Please, sir, don’t believe that I would actually appear on their doorstep. However, I do need to be armed with the appropriate information.”
He sighed. “Polly’s Palace of Pleasure.”
Grace tried hard not to let her lips twitch in the smile that wanted to form. Polly’s Palace of Pleasure? Was the man serious? “And this place is appropriately inappropriate that it could cause a scandal if it were to become known?”
“Yes, my lady.” He pressed his lips together as if refusing to say more on the matter. Grace was very curious about this place. What went on inside that even Sir William would not speak of it? “It’s not uncommon for a man to step out of his marriage to find…comfort in another woman,” she said, unsure that this bit of information was enough to silence Nigel.
Sir William cleared his throat and mumbled something.
Grace sat forward. “Pardon me? I did not hear what you said.”
“I said that this is a most inappropriate conversation.”
Her lips twitched again. “Please be assured that no one but you and I will be aware of this conversation.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “I refuse to go into sordid detail of that…establishment’s activities. Not with a woman of quality. Believe me when I say it is unseemly, and that is all I will say on the subject.”
Grace’s brows furrowed. Now she was intensely curious. Sir William said something under his breath that began with “bloody” and ended in “women.” She didn’t ask him to repeat himself but merely waited for an answer.
“Sir William—”
“No, my lady. I will not.” His lips thinned, and a mulish expression settled on his face.
She could point out that she was the one paying for the information, but she had a feeling that mattered little to him. For now she let the matter drop. Maybe she could find out some other way, if just to assuage her curiosity. “Is that all you unearthed?” she asked instead.
“No, my lady. There is more.”
More than Nigel frequenting a house of such ill repute that Sir William would not speak of it?
“It seems he has debt.”
“I believe Lord Blackbourne is aware of Nigel’s debt and is taking care of it.” Michael had mentioned something about Nigel and Clara running up some small debts at the haberdashery and modiste.
“This he may not be aware of.”
“Oh?” Even more intriguing, Sir William was proving to be a wealth of information. Money well spent, in her opinion.
—
Michael’s meeting with his solicitor was not nearly as arduous as the meeting with Roberts had been. Part of it was due to Grace’s brilliant idea for him to take notes as they spoke.
Michael had come up with his own style of shorthand that he could decipher. There were occasions when he read back on his notes and didn’t understand what he’d written, but those were happening less often. He felt so much better about himself now that he could handle a simple business meeting.
With relief, he had left the meeting with the knowledge that his estates were being handled adequately and his attention was not needed here as much as at the Blackbourne estate in Hadley Springs, where decisions sometimes needed to be made on a daily basis.
He was beyond exhausted. He got that way when he had to think too hard and for too long. He’d never known that one’s brain could actually hurt, but his did, and quite frequently, at that. Sometimes the effort of even simple thoughts was almost beyond him. Along with the fatigue, he had lost some of his ability to walk. He had to rely heavily on his cane and on Tarik, who had waited for him, possibly understanding what an ordeal the meeting would be and what it would take out of Michael.
When he entered the townhouse, the butler met him with the news that her ladyship was entertaining in the drawing room and requested his presence.
The last thing he needed was to be paraded in front of a gaggle of women who wanted to take a gander at the back-from-the-dead earl. He wanted to cry off but pictured Grace’s pinched face this morning and knew he wouldn’t. She’d done so much for him that he could not deny her this.
He shot Tarik a long-suffering look. Tarik merely shrugged and wandered off.
Michael pasted on a smile and opened the door. He was confronted not with a group of simpering women but, rather, his brother and sister-in-law. Grace’s smile was strained and her face pale as she stood to greet him. “My lord, look who has come calling.”
Nigel rose as well, but his wife—Cora? Caroline? Damn, he couldn’t remember the woman’s name—looked over the selection of biscuits and chose another one.
Michael nodded to his brother. “Nigel. To what do we owe the honor? I thought you were in Scotland.”
“Clara and I had business to conduct in London and discovered you and Grace were in town as well. We thought we would visit.”
Clara! That was her name, and on the heels of that thought was another: He did not believe for a moment that Nigel and his wife were here as a courtesy. “That was…nice of you.”
Nigel settled back in his chair as Michael sat in the one closest to Grace. Her shoulders were rigid and her smile false. She was on edge, and Michael felt a spurt of annoyance at Nigel for causing Grace discomfort. He wanted to reach over and put his hand over hers, but he kept to himself and offered her a small smile instead.
“Nigel and Clara and I were discussing the festival before you arrived. I told them we were opening the grounds again. As we have always done in the past.”
Michael bit back a smile at Grace’s pointed words. Clara shot Nigel an anxious look as she bit into another scone.
“You were?” He looked blandly at his brother.
“In truth,” Nigel said, “Clara and I came for a reason.”
>
Michael raised a brow and forced himself to appear calm when he was on alert. His soldier’s instincts were still honed, and he didn’t like what they were telling him now. This was a frontal attack, and Michael was not prepared.
Nigel cleared his throat and sat forward. “I was rash during our last conversation.” He laughed nervously. “In truth, it was a shock to see my brother, who I thought was dead, standing in the middle of my drawing room, and I did not act appropriately.”
“My apologies for not giving advance notice,” Michael said.
Nigel waved his hand in the air as if it were of no importance. “That is neither here nor there. I wanted to apologize for the things I said.”
Michael considered his brother. It had to be difficult being the third in line to the earldom. Yet Michael had been second in line and had done fine with his choice of career in the military—up until that last battle.
Nigel had had a decent practice as a solicitor. And then he had lost two brothers in the space of a few months and become the earl. He’d been ill equipped for it, as his solicitors and Roberts had pointed out. And just as quickly, the earldom had been taken away from him.
Nigel was his brother, and Michael would like to believe that he was being sincere.
“Apology accepted,” Michael said. Although he was not happy with the way Nigel had treated Grace, but now was not the time to bring that up. Michael’s head ached, he was exhausted, and they had a ball to attend tonight.
Beside him, Grace was so rigid that he feared she would shatter if touched. Clara reached for another biscuit, her gaze darting between Nigel and Michael. Michael wondered if she even dared to breathe.
“We will be leaving for Scotland in a few weeks’ time. We will spend the summer there before I resurrect my career as a solicitor.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Michael said. “Where will you be staying in the meantime?”
Nigel hesitated. Clara stopped chewing to watch them. Grace didn’t move. Michael got the impression that all of them were waiting for him to extend an invitation for Nigel and Clara to stay with them. And he got the impression that Grace was hoping he wouldn’t. He had no intention of spending his time in London entertaining his brother. He was willing to give Nigel the benefit of the doubt, but he was not equipped to have houseguests even if they were family.
His Saving Grace Page 15