Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  *

  Grace remained by his side throughout the supper. A small family affair, even Worthing’s son Daniel dined with the adults. It pleased Gabriel how easily Grace engaged the boy in conversation. It boded well in defining the type of mother she would be with their children. When she promised the boy a game of chess on the morrow, Gabriel slid his hand under the table and squeezed the back of hers. Yet, Grace surprised him by interlacing her fingers with his. They remained thus for several minutes, and Gabriel found it quite satisfying to have her express a connection between them. After spending a month imagining Miss Haverty had thought his touch repulsive, Grace’s purposely seeking his touch soothed his bruised soul.

  He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Lord Worthing will accompany me in my pursuit of a special license? Will you be comfortable remaining at Linton Park alone in my absence?”

  Grace glanced to both the right and to the left to secure their privacy. She lowered her voice. “Lady Worthing and the Countess are all that is kindness. I promised Lady Linworth I would encourage Lady Worthing to spend more time in rest for her upcoming confinement.” Gabriel raised his eyes to meet Worthing’s. His friend closely watched Gabriel’s interactions with Grace. Worthing may have agreed to assist him, but his friend was not totally convinced Gabriel had made a proper choice. “The Countess has sent for the local dressmaker. She says I require proper bride clothes.”

  Gabriel smiled when she frowned. Evidently his lady considered the expense. “Order as many dresses and gowns as you please, my Dear. As my marquise, you will require a complete wardrobe.”

  “I could not, my Lord!” she gasped.

  Gabriel wished they were alone where he might convince Grace with a kiss or a dozen kisses, if necessary. He did not understand the impulse to do so, but, evidently, his attraction to the woman had never subsided. “I insist. Permit Lady Linworth to guide you. You may as well succumb to their female tenderings. I can assure you my aunts will never take your refusal seriously.”

  *

  Grace had risen early to see Lord Godown off. Lady Worthing had mentioned her husband hoped to be on the road before eight. Therefore, Grace had sneaked downstairs at seven in anticipation of Lord Godown’s departure. At half past seven, she heard the two gentlemen and a lady’s voice in the main foyer.

  Stepping from the small drawing room, she encountered Lord Worthing with his arm wrapped about his wife’s waist and accompanied by Lord Godown. When he noticed her, the marquis smiled. “My Dear, I did not expect to see you this morning.” He hurried to greet her. Grace noted Lord and Lady Worthing continued into the morning room. Lord Godown caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You are a pleasant surprise.”

  “I could not have you leave without wishing you a safe journey, my Lord,” she said softly.

  “Could I not convince you to call me ‘Gabriel’? In less than a week, we will be joined forever,” he said teasingly.

  Her eyes fluttered closed in a long, slow blink. “I shall set my mind to in your absence, my Lord.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “It is likely the closest I will come to a concession from you. I will count the moment as a victory.”

  “I shall not permit you many of them,” she said haughtily, but she softened immediately. “Please promise me you shall take precautions. That you will return well,” she insisted.

  Gabriel lifted her chin with his fingertips. “It sounds as if you are concerned. That you would miss me, Grace.”

  “No more teasing, my Lord,” she declared. “I have never wanted anything but your health and well-being.”

  Gabriel backed her into the darkened room. “Well, my Dear, I want more than simply your health and well-being.” He caught her chin in his palm and raised it. “I want this.” His mouth claimed hers. A possession. When she moved closer, Gabriel slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. The kiss deepened, and Grace laced her arms about his neck. It was how he remembered her kiss. Only better. Need. Desire. His body pressed against hers. Finally, he forced himself to break the kiss. “I must practice restraint a few days more.” His thumb caressed her swollen bottom lip. “You look delectable,” he whispered into her ear. “The thought of you waiting for me will speed my return. Thank you for coming to me this morning. We will do well together, Grace.”

  “I shall do my best to lessen your disappointment, my Lord,” she said honestly.

  “No regrets, Grace. From neither of us.”

  *

  Mrs. Randall, the local seamstress, and several of her assistants had arrived early with multiple samples and fashion plates to tempt Grace’s sensibilities.

  “I agree, Mrs. Randall,” the countess said as she sipped her morning tea. Lady Linworth and Lady Worthing had appeared at Grace’s door with the seamstress in tow. The countess and the viscountess had made themselves comfortable while the strangers assisted Grace from her clothes and took her measurements. “The cream colored silk with the copper ribbon plays well against Miss Nelson’s skin tones.”

  “The cream must be finished by Thursday,” Lady Worthing instructed. “Which others would you like as part of your trousseau, Grace?” Lady Worthing had insisted they should recognize each other’s Christian names.

  Grace sighed deeply. Her new acquaintances saw nothing amiss regarding Grace’s ordering, at least, a dozen gowns; yet, Grace remained uncomfortable with spending Lord Godown’s fortune. “The green and the royal blue are both lovely,” she said wistfully.

  “Grace,” Lady Worthing chastised, “the marquis would expect his wife to be dressed for the Festive Days.”

  The idea of being presented to His Lordship’s family in her meager dressings brought a faint blush to Grace’s countenance. She swallowed hard, “I would appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Mrs. Randall.” She smiled at the woman for proper measure.

  The countess stood to bring the fittings to a close. “Mrs. Randall, we will have the cream, the blue, the green, and a proper traveling dress in the brown velvet this week. Of course, His Lordship would gladly pay the extra if you wish to employ several more to fill the complete order.”

  Mrs. Randall nodded her understanding. “I doubt it we could finish all twelve even with the additional girls, but I will deliver as many as possible. The remainder may be delivered by the end of next week.”

  The countess gestured to the door as she gathered the women before her. “You have always excelled, Mrs. Randall. We are blessed to have you in Linton.” The seamstress curtsied to Grace and to Lady Worthing, and then led her assistants from the room. The countess glanced to where Lady Worthing remained seated. “I plan to check on the earl and then speak to Mrs. Bentley regarding the evening meal.”

  “What of Lord Lexford?” Lady Worthing inquired.

  “The viscount and Mr. Hill are discussing Lord Lexford’s return to Lexington Arms. He has promised to ride out with Daniel a bit later today.”

  Lady Worthing smiled knowingly. “Tell His Lordship I remain grateful for his many kindnesses.”

  With the countess’s exit, Lady Worthing struggled to her feet. “Permit me to assist you with your laces,” she said as Grace slid her most serviceable gown over her head. Grace had always considered herself tall, but Eleanor Kerrington was some two inches taller than she. Grace turned her back to the viscountess and slid her arms into the sleeves. “Oh, my,” Lady Worthing said in surprise. “It appears we have irritated a scar on your shoulder with the fittings.”

  Without thinking, Grace said, “It is a relatively new mark.” She glanced at the redness before covering it with the fabric. “It will heal soon enough.”

  The viscountess appeared worried. “What could have caused such a mark? It is as if you suffered a burn. Please tell me the Brants did not inflict some sort of punishment upon you.”

  Grace turned to distract Lady Worthing’s attention. She said as reassuringly as possible, “Nothing of the sort, Lady Worthing.” She still could not master calling the viscountess Eleanor. “I am often
a bit clumsy. I dropped the hot iron when I attempted to do something more elegant with my hair.”

  Lady Eleanor studied Grace’s countenance carefully. Despite the girth she hoisted about with each unsteady step, the viscountess appeared indomitable. She favored Grace with a stare that spoke of disappointment. “Grace, Lord Godown is important to my husband,” Lady Worthing said softly. “Lord Worthing’s relationship with the marquis has thrust us into extraordinary circumstances. As their wives, we are expected to come to some sort of bonding. I would wish we could be more than simple acquaintances. I have lost both my parents and beyond Thornhill and the duchess, I have no family to speak of. Lady Yardley is a cousin, but Berwick is so far removed. I had hoped with your being in Staffordshire…”

  Grace caught the woman’s hand. She did not know if she would want Eleanor Kerrington as her special friend, but the viscountess’s words had touched Grace’s heart. It had been years since anyone had considered her more than a shell. “I would enjoy that also,” she said earnestly. “However, I have no skills on how to proceed.”

  Lady Worthing pulled her toward a nearby chaise. Holding hands, they sat together. “You begin by speaking the truth. Find someone in whom you can place your trust.”

  Grace’s gaze dropped to where the viscountess two hands encased hers. They shared a poignant moment of communion. Grace bit her bottom lip. For the first time in many years, she had the opportunity to belong. When she had accepted Lord Godown’s proposal, she had thought of how their joining would resolve his issues for his estate and how it could save Mercy and how she would no longer have to toil for a living, but Grace had never considered how truly different her life would be. In a tremulous voice, she said, “A bullet grazed my shoulder.”

  Lady Worthing gasped. “A bullet?” She gave Grace a sharp look. Testing the idea, Her Ladyship said, “A bullet meant for Lord Godown?”

  Grace’s eyes narrowed. “You know of the attacks on His Lordship?”

  Lady Worthing flushed with color. “Lord Worthing and I keep no secrets, and I honor that idea to our marital success. I would advise you to keep your heart open to Lord Godown after you speak your vows.

  Grace thought of His Lordship’s previous accusations, and she had her doubts whether he would ever believe her. Her voice was the merest thread when she said, “It was foolish of me. Yet, after what Lord Godown and I shared in Scotland, I had to be certain he was safe. And then I had met a man who had threatened to do Lord Godown harm.” Grace did not explain her brother’s connection to Lord Spectre. The viscountess would likely tell Lord Worthing, and Geoffrey would be in more difficulty than his gaming debts. Instead, Grace rushed through the details of how she had called at Lord Godown’s home to deliver her sketches and how His Lordship had chased her into the park. “When I saw the man raise his gun to Lord Godown, I could do nothing but to place myself between his assailant and His Lordship.”

  Lady Worthing’s eyes had misted with tears. “It is as I suspected. You are in love with the marquis?”

  Grace looked away. “It would not matter if my emotions were engaged. His Lordship desires no attachments.”

  Lady Worthing moved a stray wisp of hair behind Grace’s ear. “I believe your Lord Godown does not know his own mind, but soon he will.” In the way of women who are increasing, the viscountess massaged her own back. “Speak the truth to your future husband. Say the words over and over until he knows them by heart.”

  Grace reached for a pillow to place behind the lady’s back for support. “Do you keep no secrets from Lord Worthing?” she teased. Lady Worthing opened her mouth to confirm her earlier assertion, but then a schoolgirl giggle escaped. Suddenly, Grace realized how young Eleanor Kerrington was. Lady Worthing was a young woman who had had responsibility thrust upon her at too young of an age. “You do have a secret,” Grace encouraged.

  Lady Eleanor smiled largely. “You must promise to never tell another soul,” she said through another round of giggles.

  Grace permitted herself a moment of pure abandon. Seeing the elegant Lady Worthing relaxing against the chaise’s loose pillows in complete mirth spoke of all they both had missed. If even a fraction of what Sir Louis Levering had declared in a mad rant before the Prince Regent was true, Lady Eleanor Worthing had endured a sorted childhood. The viscountess had known pain and degradation, but through her resiliency, Lady Eleanor had found happiness with Lord Worthing.

  Grace envied the duke’s sister, and a part of her wondered if she could ever know such happiness. Could she make Lord Godown see her? He had once. In a crowded Scottish inn yard, His Lordship had held her close and had looked deeply into Grace’s eyes. He had recognized the loneliness and the despair. Before she could shutter away the notion, Lord Godown had exposed the looming loss, which forever plagued her soul, and she had seen a like heartbreak in his eyes. They had known each other in that instant. Yet, somehow, every reality had twisted that knowledge into something sordid and hurtful. Shaking away the impossible dream, Grace said, “I promise.”

  “You must never speak of this to Lord Godown,” the viscountess demanded.

  “Never. If we are to be friends, we must keep each other’s confidences,” Grace assured.

  Lady Worthing sat forward and whispered, “I once kissed Viscount Lexford.”

  Grace gasped, “You jest!”

  The viscountess shook her head in denial. “It is true. Lord Lexford assisted in my rescue from Sir Louis, and as part of the masquerade, we had to pretend an intimacy.”

  “Were you ashamed?” Grace asked in curiosity.

  Lady Eleanor smiled again. “On the contrary. I felt nothing but relief. I had prayed for an angel to rescue me, and there was Lord Lexford.”

  “His Lordship does not resemble any angel I could imagine,” Grace said on a rush of air.

  Lady Eleanor leaned closer. “Lord Lexford does not kiss like an angel either.”

  The snort of laughter burst from Grace’s lips. “Oh, my!” Grace wiped the happy tears from her face. “I imagine the viscount has a bit of the devil in him.” She made a valiant attempt to control her composure. “Have you kissed others besides Lord Worthing and one of his closest associates?” Grace taunted good-naturedly.

  Lady Worthing swallowed a deep steadying breath. “I do not suppose the steward’s son when I was ten counts.”

  Grace grinned widely. “No more so than the vicar’s son on my twelfth birthday.”

  Lady Worthing hoisted herself to a standing position. “Come, Grace,” she said as she extended her hand. “The countess has deemed I must seek my bed for several hours each day as part of my upcoming confinement, and I require your excellent company. We have more secrets to share.”

  *

  “We were fortunate today,” Kerrington remarked as they shared a meal in a private room at a Durham inn. On the London Road, they had met a Durham resident who had assured them the Archbishop remained as a guest of the Bishop of Durham, and they had turned their mounts north rather than south. “I thought Canterbury had departed long ago. Surely he means to be in London for the Festive Days.”

  Distracted by his thoughts of Grace, Gabriel mumbled, “I am pleased Durham agreed to intercede on my behalf.”

  Kerrington sat leisurely into the chairs’ cushions. He studied Gabriel carefully. “You have not been yourself all day. If you are having second thoughts…” he began.

  Gabriel interrupted. “No second thoughts,” he said adamantly. For more than a year, well before any of the Realm had claimed a new life, Gabriel had thought about what marriage would bring him. How a wife and children would fill the years of loneliness. On the Continent, Gabriel had thrived on the adventure, but nothing had made him feel more alive than had Grace’s kiss. In a darkened sitting room, he had found a taste of contentment, and all he wanted now was to return to Linton Park and take up where he left off. “I am satisfied with my choice.”

  “As you say,” Kerrington sounded uncertain.

  Gabriel for
ced evenness into his voice. “Shortly after having Lady Eleanor’s acquaintance, do you recall telling me that in her countenance–in your Ella’s eyes–you saw the reflection of your children? That if it were possible you would swallow the lady whole and finally breathe the breath of life?”

  Kerrington lowered his fork. “You feel the same for Miss Nelson?”

  Gabriel could not respond. Only a nod of affirmation passed between them. Instead, both men returned to their meals. Men did not easily analyze such intense feelings. When Kerrington had taken Gabriel into his confidence on that fateful evening, Gabriel had envied his best friend’s happiness, and at that moment he had silently vowed to replicate it.

  *

  Mr. Zachary knocked lightly on the door to the sitting room Rosabel shared with Aristotle Pennington. The man had returned to the country with her when she and her sisters had abandoned London’s thin Society for the Festive Days. She and Pennington had become more intimate, and the man had decided they would marry before summer. Bel had yet to tell him she preferred an earlier date. “Come,” she called to the closed door.

  Godown’s butler offered the obligatory bow. “Excuse the interruption, Your Grace.” He advanced several steps into the room. “Mr. Sanders has returned, Ma’am. He has brought you a message from Lord Godown.” Zachary extended the silver salver.

  Bel removed the letter. “Thank you, Mr. Zachary.” She turned the message over in her hand. “Please tell Mr. Sanders once he has had the opportunity to freshen his things he is to make himself available.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He meant to depart.

  Bel gave one last order. “Please ask Lady Gibbons and Lady Hyatt to join Mr. Pennington and me for tea.”

  “Immediately, Ma’am.”

  Pennington chuckled. “You were born to rule a great house, Bel. I will keep that fact in mind in my search for a proper estate.”

  Bel gave him a coy smile. “As long as it has a large master suite, I shall be content.”