Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  As he took the seat to which his aunt indicated, Gabriel had the distinct feeling the headmaster had called him to task. “What should I do?” he pleaded. The three women who shared the room with him had always served as his counselors. Even when he was a child, he had saved his toughest decisions for the Three Roses’ input.

  “I have nothing against Austin,” Lía began, “but I would hate to see him walk away with half of what Renard accumulated through hard work and diligence. This title was little more than an afterthought before our brother took the reigns.”

  “Moreover, Lord Isaacs will inherit from the English side of the family.” Lyn said aloud what they all were thinking.

  “How do I prevent Isaacs from taking what belongs to our family?” Gabriel asked the silence that loomed among them.

  Bel assumed the lead. “First,” she summarized what they knew, “you must take a wife. Preferably, before Christmastide.”

  “That is a mere matter of weeks, Aunt,” Gabriel objected.

  Bel leveled a deadly glare upon him. “You have postponed your duties long enough,” she insisted.

  Lyn ventured, “What is the hurry, Bel? In reality, in order to secure the title and half of the holdings, Gabriel has months before he must marry.”

  Bel reasoned, “But if the boy marries immediately, there is the slim chance he could bring the lady to child before the deadline.”

  Gabriel thought to object, but his aunt’s granite gaze kept him silent.

  Lía persisted, “Even if Gabriel beds his wife day and night for weeks, there is no guarantee the lady will conceive. I recall quite clearly how long it took you and Lord Damon…”

  “My life with my late husband is not part of this discussion,” Bel snapped.

  “But it is,” Lía assured. “Not a half hour prior, you were prepared to ask Gabriel about his sexual encounters.”

  Gabriel groaned and sank further into the chair. “Heaven forbid!”

  “As you insist with this line of conversation,” Bel said sarcastically, “Lord Damon and I enjoyed a loving relationship.”

  “Someone please burn that image from my memory,” Gabriel pleaded as he buried his head in his hands.

  Bel snorted her contempt. “Typical of a man to think he has a monopoly on the bedroom,” she said sweetly to irritate her nephew. “I believe you object too much, Godown. You are beginning to sound like an Englishman.”

  “I am an Englishman,” he protested without looking up.

  Lyn corrected, “An Englishman with a Frenchman’s disposition.”

  “Is this how all women speak when they speak honestly?” he asked, half in curiosity and half in pure embarrassment.

  “Of course, Lía said matter-of-factly. “The subject of what happens in the bedroom is not purely a male’s prerogative.”

  “Yet, this conversation veers from what we must really know before we may make a decision?” Lyn maintained.

  “And that would be?” Gabriel asked cautiously. This encounter had taken a bizarre turn.

  Lyn sat straighter. “We must determine if there are any women of your intimate acquaintance who could be with child already.”

  Shock kept Gabriel from storming from the room. “You–you want,” he stammered, “to know if–if I have fathered any illegitimate children?”

  Lyn softened her tone. “Not exactly.” She looked to her sisters for support. “It seems to me that before Gabriel chooses a bride in order to claim half of Renard’s inheritance, he should first determine if any of the boy’s recent encounters have produced an issue. If so, the lady should be his first choice as a wife.”

  Gabriel said contemptuously, “I assure you, Aunt, none of the women involved should be the next Marquise of Godown.”

  “Not even to save your father’s legacy?” Lía charged.

  Gabriel swallowed hard. Never before had he questioned his liaisons. He had always assumed the women with whom he had discreetly sought sexual favors were separate from his family obligations. Now, he recognized the folly of believing any facet of his life did not impact the others. “I would do anything to honor my father.”

  “Then you will visit each of your amours and first determine if any of the lady’s are with child,” Lyn declared.

  Lía reasoned, “You would only need to consider any encounters in the previous eight or so months.”

  Gabriel frowned. “What a revolting situation!” he hissed. “You expect me to revisit past relationships to determine whether I am to be a father? What would you propose I say to the ladies in question?” he argued.

  Lyn countered, “As you have been at Gossling Hill for some time and prior to your recent residence you misled us by escorting the former Miss Aldridge about Town, I am assuming the number of encounters is low.”

  “I am grateful you do not consider me a complete lecher,” Gabriel said sarcastically.

  Bel interrupted, “Of course, we are assuming there is no one in your recent history.”

  Gabriel matched his aunt’s intensity with his own. He realized she wished to know of his mysterious Scottish benefactor, but he would not speak of Grace Nelson to anyone. Moreover, he had protected Miss Nelson from the possibility of an unwanted child. “No one,” he said adamantly.

  “We will not ask how many or who,” Lyn declared. “Just know we expect you to do the right thing. Meanwhile, we will put our heads together to create a list of appropriate choices. If your venture proves futile, then we will assist you in choosing a bride that brings honor to the title. If you so desire, an early marriage could still produce the necessary issue prior to the deadline.”

  Lía announced, “We should consider a younger bride. A healthy delivery is more likely with a girl recently experiencing her Come Out.”

  Gabriel grumbled, “Could you, at least, consider someone who will not bore me within the first week of our joining.”

  Bel declared, “You have had more than ample opportunities to find a bride who meets your qualifications. Instead, you will settle on one who meets your late father’s.”

  Chapter Ten

  For three days, Grace had avoided Lord Spectre. Her retreat to her chambers had not deterred the man. When he overindulged in her brother’s best brandy, the man had attempted to force his way into her quarters. Fortunately, she had locked the door and had moved furniture before the portal. Spectre had abandoned his efforts in order to rejoin the card game below; yet, Grace had found no rest the first evening.

  Nor had she known a wink of sleep on the second night. Taunted by her brother and another man’s voice Grace now recognized as Spectre’s, the mysterious lord had pounded on her door several times before turning away. However, the man’s parting words had totally unnerved her. “Your brother has a master key, Miss Nelson. When I am truly prepared to have you, a simple lock will not deter me.”

  On the third day, she had received a confirmation from Mrs. O’Boyle. The lady had located a let room Grace could use until time for her to report to her new position. Mr. Soames had risked Geoffrey’s ire by bringing Grace the employment agency’s letter. Tonight, after her brother and his consorts had filled their brains with enough drink to dull their responses, she would sneak from the house. It was a bit over a mile to the village and the mail coach, but the real danger rested behind Foresthill walls. She did not worry that Lord Spectre would turn toward Mercy. Sir Lesley’s interest protected her sister from Geoffrey’s acquaintances. The baronet would pay Geoffrey for the guarantee of Mercy’s innocence. Besides, she knew without a doubt Lord Spectre’s attention to Grace came from Grace’s connection to Lord Godown.

  Grace was not certain of Geoffrey’s connection to the dangerous Lord Spectre. Were they simply gambling associates? Had Geoffrey held some culpability in the attack on Lord Godown? If so, she would never forgive her brother.

  She had not told Mercy of her plan to leave earlier than expected. It would be better if her sister truly held no knowledge of her whereabouts. When she left Foresthill this t
ime, Grace would likely never return. Only Mercy had kept her coming back. Soon her sister would be Lady Trent or she would be from the house and on her own. Either way, Grace would likely never see Mercy again.

  Deep in her thoughts, the hard shove against the wooden frame of her chamber door caught Grace off guard. In the next instance, Lord Spectre stood in the open doorway. “Your brother was most accommodating,” he slurred as he held the key ring aloft.

  Grace stood stiffly. Her brother had betrayed her. “Geoffrey is more accommodating to his associates than he is to his family,” she declared coldly.

  Two long strides brought Lord Spectre before her. “You have played a dangerous game,” he hissed.

  Suddenly, his speech and his vision cleared, and Grace wondered if it had all been pretense. Her hand dropped to her side before she raised it slowly. “As have you, my Lord.”

  She knew the exact moment he recognized her intent. “Well…well,” Spectre chuckled. “I believe Geoffrey has underestimated your resourcefulness, my Dear.” He took a half step backward, and Grace countered with a forward one. Surprisingly, although she could barely breathe, her hands appeared steady. “It is a fine gun,” he said with another shuffle step in retreat. “But I wonder if you have the mettle it takes to pull the trigger.”

  Grace edged closer. “There is only one means to discover the reality. I could be of the nature to want to see you dead. Or I could be angry at the world for placing me in such a situation, and, therefore, I would choose to turn my anger on you. Either way, at this distance, I am likely to hit something. Possibly your heart.” Grace swallowed a steadying breath. “Are you willing to see if I have the necessary resolve, my Lord?”

  “I could call upon your brother to join me,” he said with a smirk. “You could not shoot both of us.”

  Grace returned his self-satisfied smile. “That is true. Combined, the two of you could easily overcome my best efforts, but believe this, Lord Spectre, that I shall shoot you the moment you raise your voice in summons. With any luck, you will be dead before Geoffrey negotiates the stairs.”

  “Godown has found a brilliant ally,” he said as he stepped to the door. “When next you meet the gentleman, tell him this is not over. Not until I see him dead.” With that, he stepped through the open portal.

  Grace waited until she had head his retreating footsteps on the hall’s carpet before she closed the door and locked it. Although she did not expect Lord Spectre to return, she would take no chances. She placed two chairs before the door. Automatically, she collapsed into the second one. As relief rushed through her veins, she placed the gun on her lap.

  What had just happened? Lord Spectre had admitted he intended to kill the man Grace respected above all others. She might never see Lord Godown again, but she must find a means to warn him. She now possessed another reason to stay away from the marquis. Her family associated with the man who attempted to kill Lord Godown. She would not lead Lord Spectre to Gabriel Crowden’s door. And Grace refused to be used by Spectre to entrap the marquis. She held no doubt the Marquis of Godown would lay down his life to save hers.

  At three of the clock, Grace slipped through an unlocked patio door. Mr. Soames had promised to lock it behind her when he came on duty in the morning. Earlier in the day, her parents’ trusted servant had managed to transport her meager belongings to the gatehouse. As she ran toward the decaying apple orchard, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, shrouding her face from recognition. Maneuvering the mist and the blackness, Grace prayed to escape Lord Spectre and Lord Godown. To be beyond the grasp of each man–in every aspect.

  *

  Gabriel looked up to see Aidan Kimbolt’s approach. He had spent much of the afternoon with his aunts. The Three Roses had relented, at least, somewhat. They had allowed him to explain what he sought in a wife. Much to his chagrin, he found himself describing many of Miss Nelson’s finer qualities. He still could not reason out why the woman remained steadfastly in his heart. He must be the biggest fool God had ever created. “Evening, Lexford,” he said in greeting. “Please join me if you hold no other plans.” He gestured to the chair across from his.

  “I am surprised to find you at White’s.” His friend placed his gloves on an empty chair. “I expected you to be wooing the eligible ladies at the Cranfords’ ball this evening.”

  Gabriel frowned. “I have received a reprieve from the bridal search.” In reality, he had reluctantly agreed to call upon the first of the four women who could possibly have conceived a child of his issue. The Roses were not happy when he had announced his destination. It said something of the desperation his family felt if his aunts agreed to accept whomever he chose for his marquise. “Even Clarrissa Chamberlain,” Bel had said grudgingly when Lía had pressed her.

  Gabriel had chosen Clarrissa for his first “encounter” because he knew it unlikely the woman had ever considered children. He also knew in Clarrissa’s world, women went to great lengths to avoid unwanted pregnancies.

  “Are you not the lucky one?” Lexford said. “I cannot imagine your taking to the venture well.” The viscount motioned for a servant to bring them a fresh bottle.

  Another server brought Gabriel’s meal. “Why would I not enjoy the process? Dancing with beautiful women? Having my choice of Society’s best?”

  Lexford lowered his voice. “It is just that we all agreed…all those years ago. When we thought we had known our last days on this earth that if we survived…”

  Gabriel clearly remembered that terrifying night. The shelling had come steadily, and they had thought they would each die before dawn. Lowery had been the first to speak of wishing to know love before he met his Maker. And one by one, they had agreed if they survived, they would seek love above all else. Of course, that had been before his father’s will had changed everything. Now, he required a wife. One either already carrying his child or one who would tolerate his constant attentions to secure the Crowden line. He had pointedly reminded his aunts a girl fresh from the schoolroom might find a “randy” husband appalling.

  Lía had countered with how women of good breeding knew their duty and would not refuse him. The image of taking a compliant, but uninterested, wife over and over, against her wishes, had dampened any hopes Gabriel might have held about a marriage of convenience.

  “We did,” Gabriel said, at last. “But let us be reasonable, Lexford. How could each of know love?” They had had this conversation previously, but his friend persisted, and although he knew reality would have its way, he allowed himself to cling to the dream of knowing a woman, who would see him as the center of her universe.

  “Yet, Kerrington and Fowler and Wellston have succeeded.”

  Lexford looked so hopeful Gabriel despised the idea of allowing the truth to reign. He said, “I think many of us will see that particular prayer to fruition. But I shall not be among the numbers. Without going into detail, I must marry soon to save my family’s title.”

  “When did this come about?” Lexford asked with real concern.

  Gabriel refused to tell anyone the whole story. Instead, he said, “It has been a recent revelation.”

  Luckily, the viscount had the good sense to swallow his curiosity. “Well, if we are not to dance the night away at the Cranfords’, where might we be off to this evening?”

  “I am planning to make a call at Lady Minerva’s Parlor Room,” Gabriel said triumphantly.

  Lexford’s smile widened. “What a way to drown the bridal blues!”

  “Would you care to join me? I mean, if the Duke is not expecting your early return.” Gabriel found Lexford’s company exactly what he required to drive away his thoughts of the Godown title, the Three Roses’ ultimatum, and Grace Nelson’s disloyalty. His friend had a fierce constancy that was equal to, if not greater than, his affable personality.

  Some two hours later, and more drinks than he could recall, Gabriel and Lexford staggered through the private door leading to Lady Minerva’s Parlor Room.

&
nbsp; “Ah, my Lords,” Minerva called as she greeted them at the door. “It has been too long since either of you has graced our fine establishment. Please come in.” She gestured to a servant to bring them champagne.

  Lexford said, “Not so long as to no longer be welcomed, I hope.”

  Minerva caught the viscount’s arm and maneuvered him toward her waiting “girls.” She snapped her fingers, and two of the ladies reached for him. “You are always welcome at Minerva’s, my Lord,” the raven-haired vixen said as she laced her arms about Lexford’s neck.

  The last Gabriel saw of the man, the viscount walked stiff legged toward the private quarters. “And what of you, Lord Godown?” Minerva returned to his side. “What pleasures do you seek?”

  “Clarrissa,” Gabriel said sternly. Suddenly, the drink no longer dulled his senses. He had responsibilities to his family. To his father. “If she is agreeable, I would spend time with Clarrissa.”

  “Of course, Clarrissa is agreeable,” Minerva assured. The house’s mistress motioned the blonde to join them.

  Clarrissa smiled knowingly at Gabriel. There was a time he found the lady’s smile beguiling. Tonight, he felt nothing but pity. This woman had sunk so low she sold her favors to a variety of gentlemen. “Good evening, my Lord,” she said sweetly. “I am pleased you have returned to London.”

  “Would you accept my company this evening?” Unwillingly, Gabriel thought of Grace. She would spend a miserable existence in another’s service, but it was still better than Clarrissa’s existence. In Scotland, because Miss Nelson had said she wished he had danced with her at the Prince’s party, Gabriel had made a silent vow to dance with the wallflowers at each of the balls he attended. Now, because of the existence Fate had dealt Grace, he looked at women differently. They had so few choices in Society. It was as if Grace had made him a better person. How could that be? He despised her Janus face.

  “I would be honored, my Lord.” Clarrissa reached for Gabriel’s hand. “Should I have cook send up the usual fare, Lord Godown?”