When it came to the heart of the matter, Alex’s actions might have contributed to Chatham’s assessment. In being so plain with the marquess yesterday about his relations with Grace, even though he had auspicious intentions, he might have furthered the man’s impression of his daughter. And that, Alex realized, was the true source of his anger. Not that Chatham had called Grace a whore—but that he had played a part in creating such an impression.
He was a rake. A brute. Strong enough words to describe what he’d become didn’t exist.
How could he possibly deserve Grace now?
But he couldn’t allow her to be with anyone else. Alex may have hurt his honor already, but he couldn’t allow her virtue to suffer. He would marry her. He would find a way to convince Chatham, and he would marry Grace.
The park was beginning to fill with people, so he slowed Sampson to a canter. Devil take it, he must have been out longer than he realized.
Alex turned Sampson around and began the return journey to Grosvenor Square. He hoped beyond hope he wouldn’t encounter someone he knew. He was in no mood to make polite conversation.
Two riders approached, and he cursed beneath his breath before he realized those riders were Sir Jonas and Derek.
“Have you finished with your sulk then, Alex?” Sir Jonas called out. “And where did you lose your hat? The dowager will die of shame if she discovers you’ve been out in public without your head properly covered.”
“My hat?” He touched the top of his bare head, shocked to feel nothing but his own hair. “Devil take it, it fell off earlier and I let it fall.” But his friend was right, his mother would be thoroughly scandalized if she heard of the matter.
The three men looked about to find it. Derek took off after a moment toward what Alex could only make out to be a black spot on the ground, a rock or something of the sort perhaps. That rock turned out to be his hat. Derek rode back with the beaver hat in his hands and handed it over. “Now your mother won’t be forced into scandal by your behavior, as long as the gossip mill doesn’t give you away.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Mama would be most appreciative.”
They rode together at first in silence. Alex was glad for the company because their presence prevented someone else from stopping him for conversation. But his pensive mood continued.
Despite his part in Chatham’s view of Grace as a whore, and discounting his feelings toward a man who could think such a thing of her, there was yet another problem Alex must overcome.
“Will Chatham allow me to marry Grace after I attempted to kill him?”
“What was that?” asked Derek.
Alex jumped. He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud, so Derek’s response was unexpected.
“I—I just—well, do you think he will? Allow me? To marry Grace, that is? I mean…I don’t know what I mean.” He paused to find the answers within himself. “I did strangle him, you know. That’s not an easy thing to overlook.”
They neared Grosvenor Square and slowed their horses, so they could have a few more moments to speak in private. Sir Jonas sent a questioning glance across to Derek, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
“What?” Alex asked. “What do I not know?” Dread settled in his stomach.
“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Sir Jonas said. “Come on, they’re waiting for us inside. No reason to put this off any longer.”
“Put what off?”
But Sir Jonas and Derek dismounted and moved up the stairs.
A familiar carriage was parked outside the house. Try as he might, Alex couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.
“Put what off?” he called out again, in a futile attempt at finding some answers before he walked into—well, he had no idea what he might be walking into. As had become something of a habit, he received no answer. Sir Jonas and Derek were already well inside the house, thoroughly ignoring him.
Alex cursed as he landed on the street and handed his reins to the groom. It was horrid enough to have his own siblings keep information from him, but to have Derek and Sir Jonas go along with it was beyond the pale.
Alone, he climbed up the stairs of Hardwicke House and entered through the front door. Who were their guests? No point in delaying the inevitable.
Spenser greeted him as he entered. “Lord Alexander, your presence has been requested by His Grace in the downstairs salon.” The butler reached for his hat and coat even as he executed a perfect bow.
“Thank you. I’ll attend him immediately.”
Derek and Sir Jonas had already made their presence scarce, whether by a request for their presence in the downstairs salon or by having been granted some other reprieve. He moved through the familiar halls toward the salon with a sense of fate hanging over his head.
One of Peter’s liveried footmen opened the doors and ushered him inside. The room was full to bursting at the seams. His entire family was present, save Richard. Derek, Sir Jonas, and Gil were there as expected, since they were all more like family than not. Chatham stood near the window looking out into the gardens.
They all turned to face him upon his entrance. The memory of where he had seen the carriage outside before washed over him as he saw Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington seated near Gil by the fire. Alongside them sat Grace, her two icy eyes gazing at him, filled to the brim with unshed tears.
Grace was there. In London. In his home.
His body begged him to rush over to her, pull her to him, and wipe away her tears. The sight of her, even with the upset clear upon her face, rejuvenated him after spending so many days away from her. He took a breath and allowed himself to relax for the first time since he had left her in Bath.
And then he remembered himself. “Lady Grace, Sir Laurence, and Lady Kensington, it is wonderful to see you in London.” He bowed to them and forced his feet to remain rooted in place.
A warm smile spread across Lady Kensington’s face. “Lord Alexander, how lovely to find you here. You left Bath so suddenly and took our Lord Rotheby with you. And then when we returned to Somerton, we didn’t find you there. I was greatly disappointed, I must say. But we’d hoped, when we decided to visit London, we might find you here.”
“I apologize for leaving Bath so quickly, ma’am, and for taking Gil with me. I had pressing business matters to attend.” What a piddling excuse.
“Oh goodness, don’t trouble yourself over such a silly thing.” Lady Kensington waved her handkerchief in a dismissive gesture. “We’re delighted you’re here. I know our Gracie has missed you dreadfully.”
The color rose in Grace’s cheeks and she looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Could it be true? Had she missed him?
Her reaction rekindled his hope, but one very large impediment still stood in his way—the Marquess of Chatham.
Alex’s obstacle chose that particular moment to clear his throat. “Pardon my interruption, Lord Alexander, but might it be possible to have a private word with you? There is something I wish to discuss.”
He glared over at Chatham. The man had had the audacity to call Grace—the woman Alex loved, the woman he intended to marry, the woman he would give his life to honor and protect—a whore in his presence, and now he wanted to speak in private?
Lady Kensington beamed up at Alex and squeezed her husband’s hand.
Without Chatham’s permission, he couldn’t marry Grace. He had to speak with the bastard again.
Peter spoke up. “You may use my private library if you wish. I believe that will suffice your needs, Lord Chatham.”
With his glare still in place, Alex nodded and led the marquess from the salon to his brother’s library. His body shook with fury. The man had to be the cause of Grace’s tears; there simply was no other explanation.
He ushered Chatham inside and waited for the doors to close before taking a seat behind Peter’s large oak desk. He wanted to assume an air of authority. He wanted it to be clear he was the one now in charge, not the marquess.
; Alex waved a hand toward an empty wing chair facing the desk. “Please, have a seat. And tell me, what would you like to discuss? Though I must warn you, if you haven’t yet offered my mother and sisters an apology for your earlier language, I doubt I’ll be very open to hearing a word you have to say.”
Chatham cast his eyes away, a faint shimmer visible in the corner of one from the sun descending outside the windows. “Oh, I’ve offered my apologies. And I believe you’ll have your mother to thank, shortly.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. You see, the dowager is the one who convinced me to have a change of heart toward you.”
“Mama did?” How on earth could the woman have managed such a feat when he could not? And a ‘change of heart’ meant what exactly? Alex rubbed a hand against his eyes, hoping to clear the fog settling over his thoughts.
“She did. Well, I should clarify. It’s more Grace I have changed toward than you. I’ve been a neglectful father. I hope to remedy that.”
“Just how do you propose to cease neglecting your daughter? And what, pray tell, does any of this have to do with me?” He moved his hand from his eyes to his temples and rubbed against the pounding blood there.
“I…well, I insist you marry my daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Grace hated showing signs of weakness, and the tears she was unable to push back would more than qualify. Sitting in the salon of Hardwicke House near her aunt and uncle, surrounded by Lord Alexander’s family and friends, she berated herself for her vulnerability.
And then he walked into the room.
Lord Alexander glanced about as the door closed behind him. Grace stilled when his gaze settled upon her, and wished more than ever that she was strong enough to hide her tears.
His gaze remained on her for several moments. He pulled in a deep breath of air. His eyes changed before her, from frantic and bothered to relaxed and calm. And still, he watched her.
After another long moment, he broke his stare and included Aunt Dorothea and Uncle Laurence in his gaze. “Lady Grace, Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington, it is wonderful to see you in London.” He bowed to them and her aunt spoke to him.
Grace paid no attention to her aunt’s words. Without a doubt, the woman would effuse Lord Alexander with a barrage of admonitions and unsubtle hints geared toward accomplishing what Grace’s father had just informed her would happen.
Hence, the reason for her tears.
She had tried so hard over this time since they first met each other to convince Lord Alexander to stay away. However much she may love him, and she had now given up all hope of convincing herself otherwise, he deserved better than her—a ravished woman, due to give birth to another man’s child.
He deserved a lady with her virtue intact. A lady who felt at home in society. A lady he loved, not one he was forced to wed for honor’s sake.
Honor be damned, alongside myself.
Another wave of tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the wave of Aunt Dorothea’s handkerchief through the air. “We are delighted you are here, though. I know our Gracie has missed you dreadfully.”
Grace blushed more fiercely than she could ever remember blushing before at her aunt’s words, replacing the tears she would have otherwise shed. How could Aunt Dorothea embarrass her in such a way, and in front of his family, no less? Lord Alexander’s eyes returned to hers and she looked away, unable to face him.
Then her father cleared his throat. “Pardon my interruption, Lord Alexander, but might it be possible to have a private word with you? There is something I wish to discuss.” She dared not look up to see Lord Alexander’s reaction. Lady Charlotte had already informed her of the events at this afternoon’s tea.
After several moments, the Duke of Somerton spoke. “You may use my private library if you wish. I believe that will suffice your needs, Lord Chatham.”
Nothing more was said, but Grace’s father followed Lord Alexander from the room.
Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the sounds of someone sniffling. Grace didn’t recognize the sniffles as her own until the women of the Hardwicke family surrounded her.
The dowager sat on the sofa next to Grace and placed her arms around her as one of her daughters, Grace was uncertain which, passed her a handkerchief.
“There, there sweetheart,” the dowager said. “Lie down and rest.”
The arms about her tugged gently until she lay across the sofa with her head on the older woman’s lap. The sisters patted her and held her hands, and someone brought a cold compress to place against her head.
“He’ll treat you well, Lady Grace,” Lady Sophia said. “Our brother is a good man. Certainly better than Lord Barrow.”
Lady Charlotte cut in. “But why are you so distraught, Lady Grace? Don’t you want to marry Alex?”
“Leave her be, Char. Let her cry until she’s finished. It’s never a good idea to interrupt a good cry—you ought to know that as well as anyone.”
“Girls, please be quiet,” the dowager interrupted. “We’re overwhelming her, I’m afraid.”
Gentle hands stroked her hair and soothed her spirit. Somehow in her crying jag, the tears had become sobs that bordered on hysterics, but now returned to simple tears. And then Grace remembered where she was and who she was with. Dear Lord, she had become a maudlin watering pot! She shot up from her prone position to sit straight, and glanced around the room.
The Duke of Somerton had left, along with Lord Neil, Sir Jonas, Lord Sinclaire, Lord Rotheby, and even Grace’s aunt and uncle. She was alone with the three Hardwicke women—women over whom she had just bawled like a baby.
Women who would soon be her family.
“Oh goodness, I must apologize for such unbecoming behavior. How terribly rude of me.” She fumbled with her gown to straighten it and wiped her tears with the handkerchief she had been given.
“Nonsense,” said Lady Sophia, the one with the reddish-blonde hair. “You’ll be our sister soon, so we’ll treat you as our sister. And if you can’t cry with your mother and sisters, who can you cry with?”
“Oh, but I’m mortified because you will be my family soon. We’ve hardly met, and I’m behaving like a fool.” Her eyes cleared, and a rather large wet patch appeared on the front of the dowager’s muslin. Grace eyes widened to the point she thought they would pop out of her head. “Ma’am, I’ve ruined your gown!” She tried to mop up the mess with her handkerchief, but it was so full of her tears that she only made the matter worse.
Lady Somerton placed her hands over Grace’s to still them. “Never mind that, my dear. Now, Grace—may I call you Grace?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Now Grace, why don’t we discuss what has you so upset? Don’t you love my son?”
“Mama, what a silly question,” said Lady Charlotte. “Of course she loves Alex. Didn’t you see the way she looked at him?”
“Charlotte, please allow her to speak for herself.” The dowager squeezed Grace’s hand.
She wanted to speak the words aloud to someone, anyone. But she feared that once they were said, her heart would break even further than it already had.
But fear had controlled her for far too long.
“I do love him, Your Grace.” And the tears burst forward again like a broken dam.
“Of course you do, sweetheart. So tell us, what is all this about?”
“I can’t marry him.”
“Why ever not? Alex wants to marry you, you love him. What’s the problem?”
Grace looked up at Lord Alexander’s sisters before she answered. “I can’t answer that question in front of your daughters. Your Grace, they would be scandalized. You would be scandalized.” She took a calming breath. “No, I cannot answer at all.”
Lady Sophia sat on Grace’s other side, forcing her closer to the dowager, and reached up to smooth a few escaped strands of hair behind her ear. “I can assure you that living in Town during
a Season is more than enough to guarantee none of us shall be scandalized in the slightest. You can’t shock the Hardwicke women.”
Grace looked around at the other ladies who all nodded their heads in eager assent. “Very well. I have—” She broke off when another tear fell down her face. Lady Charlotte took one of her hands and held onto it.
She steeled herself to go on. “I have been ruined, ma’am.”
The words were out. She couldn’t take them back. Grace waited for shocked looks, expecting the women to pull away in disgust. But none of that happened. They continued to hold her, to stroke her, to comfort her.
The dowager spoke first. “And is Alex aware of this?”
“Yes, ma’am. He is aware.”
“Then it hardly signifies. He still wants to marry you.” Lady Sophia held a stern look and regarded her with knowing eyes. “But there’s more, isn’t there? Something you haven’t told Alex, from the looks of it. What have you not told us?”
How could Lady Sophia tell? Grace wracked her mind to find something she could tell them so they would stop asking questions. But she most certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.
The dowager duchess held up a hand, stopping the conversation. “That is enough for now, girls. Grace has only just met us. She’ll have to learn to trust us, and we’ve done nothing yet to earn her trust. Why, we’ve berated her while she was in the midst of a crying spell.” She placed her hand over one of Grace’s for just a moment. “Look at me, sweetheart. Whatever it is, whatever is bothering you, it will be all right.”
“I wish I could believe you, ma’am.” But how could anything be all right?
~ * ~
“You insist I do what?” Alex asked, almost choking on the words.
“Marry Grace. And you will do it. You admitted to me yesterday you had done more than merely compromise her in public, so you have no alternative.” Chatham looked more grim and determined than Alex had seen him in their few meetings to that point.
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