Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  Gabriel pointed out the obvious. “You have survived, Grace. So will your sister.” Unfortunately, his attempt to console her had done little to allay his wife’s fears.

  “When Lady Linworth ordered her son’s wife to the lady’s bed, we felt it best if we return to Staffordshire,” Aunt Lyn explained as they shared a cup of restorative tea in his aunts’ favorite drawing room. Later, in private, he would remind Grace, as the estate’s mistress, she should set the tone for the gathering. His wife was accustomed to permitting others to take the lead.

  “And what of Lord Lexford?” Gabriel asked distractedly. He had discovered a small mole on the back of Grace’s neck he had failed to explore previously.

  Pennington clarified, “Lexford has sent Mr. Hill to Lexington Arms to prepare the estate for his return. It has been some three months since the viscount has slept beneath his own roof.”

  Grace said tentatively, “Mr. Hill’s departure will be a sad turn for Lady Worthing’s lady’s maid.”

  Gabriel noted for the others’ benefit, “My wife holds a tender heart, especially for those who are unduly separated.” He explained, “Lord Lexford’s man, Mr. Hill, has courted Lady Worthing’s maid Hannah since last April. Mr. Hill will not take the separation well.”

  “Why does not Mr. Hill declare himself?” Aunt Lía asked. “Surely Lady Worthing would release her maid.”

  Gabriel said, “Mr. Hill vowed to serve Lord Lexford for ten years after the viscount saved Hill from certain death. Some two years remain on their agreement. Mr. Hill will never break his word to Lexford. No matter how he feels about the maid.”

  Lía declared, “An honorable man who serves an honorable man.”

  Lyn changed the subject. To Grace, she said, “We thought we might show you where the best areas are on the estate to gather greenery for the house. That is, of course, if you hold no objections. You are Lady Godown, after all.”

  “I suspect Lady Godown may wish to rest today. Perhaps tomorrow might be a better day,” Gabriel said as he noted Grace’s dismay.

  Lyn answered, “Of course, we simply wish to make your transition easier, my Dear.”

  Grace murmured, “Thank you, Lady Hyatt. That is most kind.”

  Later, in their joined chambers, Gabriel assisted Grace in lacing her dress for the evening meal. “My aunts mean well,” he said as he grazed his lips across her shoulder blade. His tongue had explored that delectable mole he had spotted earlier. Whenever he was near her, Gabriel felt the need to touch her.

  “I realize they do,” she said over her shoulder. Gabriel was well aware of how she watched their intimacies in the mirror, and he hoped she found the image as sexually stimulating as did he. “It is just…”

  Gabriel raised his head to watch her in the mirror’s reflection. “It is just what, my Dear?” he said encouragingly.

  Grace turned in his arms. “May I speak honestly, my Lord?”

  “I would have it no other way.”

  She bit her bottom lip, but with a slight tilt of her chin, she said, “I wish to please you, my Lord. Your family has opened its arms and has given me a home, but I have nothing to give in return. Not a dowry. Not a proper connection. Absolutely nothing. And I so wish it were different.” A tear escaped.

  Gabriel brushed it away with his thumb. “You do please me, Grace. And my aunts sing your praises.” He caressed her cheek.

  “Yet, it is not enough. I wish to be the finest Marquise of Godown. For you never to hold regrets regarding our union.”

  “Despite our sometimes heated disagreements, I have never regretted one moment of our relationship.”

  Grace leaned into him. “Nor I, my Lord. Each moment is precious.”

  Gabriel kissed her forehead. “Then no more worries, my Dear. You are my marquise, and we will carve out a life together. One with a few pitfalls, but mostly we will know a completeness.” He reached in his pocket and brought out a black velvet pull string bag. “To demonstrate how much you please me, I thought you might enjoy these.” He turned her palm up and emptied the bag’s contents into her hand.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she gasped.

  “They were my mother’s,” he said as he reached for the strand of pearls to drape them about Grace’s neck. As he watched the awe playing across her countenance, Gabriel knew his own contentment. When he had proposed to Miss Haverty and placed his mother’s ruby ring on the woman’s finger, he had cringed at seeing the red stone on Miss Haverty’s hand. Yet, as he permitted the pearls to caress Grace’s neck, Gabriel easily imagined his mother’s approving smile.

  Grace’s tears returned. Softly, she said, “They are exquisite, my Lord. I have never observed a necklace so well matched.”

  Gabriel fastened the clasp. “My father purchased them in Paris as an engagement gift for my mother long before Napoleon thought to take control of France.”

  “I am honored, my Lord.” Spontaneously, she threw her arms about his neck in affection, and Gabriel laughed in surprise. The fact his wife openly displayed her emotions was quite satisfying for a man who craved the affection he had lost to a youthful indiscretion.

  If only those exquisite moments could have lasted. Somehow, he had permitted his guard to slip away, and when Grace’s betrayal came, his heart had failed to recognize its vulnerability to the siege before the onslaught. He had overheard his Aunt Bel and Grace in what appeared to be a moment of contention. It was several days after his family had come together to celebrate Christmas at Gossling Hill. Curious about his bride, cousins and distant relatives had joined the Roses, Grace, and him for a true family tradition. Although a bit nervous with the recognition, Grace had performed admirably.

  Gabriel had watched carefully as she won over each of them. His wife had instinctively learned to divide and conquer. She found time during his family’s brief stay to speak to the men on politics and the war, as well as on hunting. Her knowledge of the Honour of Clitheroe Annual Hunt had quite literally taken several of his cousins by surprise.

  With the women, she had spoken of literature and art and of music. When she performed for the group, Grace’s expertise on the harp had pleased him greatly. And with the children, she was simply the indulgent, yet stern, ex-governess. His wife knew how to entertain children–a fact he would have appreciated more if he could look forward to her presenting him with a child of their own.

  However, three days before the local Twelfth Night celebration at the Hyatt estate, his satisfying marital journey came to an end. “Tell me what?” he had said as he stepped through the adjoining door to Grace’s chambers.

  *

  “Grace, what in the world are you about?” the dowager duchess asked as she joined Grace for afternoon tea in the marquise’s sitting room. The dowager duchess had promised to provide Grace with background information on whom Grace would meet at Lord Hyatt’s celebration. Grace had wanted desperately to make a grand showing. “To please His Lordship,” she had explained to Lord Godown’s indomitable aunt. Fortunately, the dowager duchess had readily volunteered to assist Grace in the matter.

  Lord Godown’s aunts had been all that was kindness, and Grace did feel a bit more comfortable in the role her marriage had thrust upon her; yet, she still wished for an unattainable perfection. She could not abandon the feeling of unworthiness she experience whenever she compared her life to the superior situation into which she had married.

  She looked up to smile at Godown’s Aunt Bel. “I am letting out the seams of this gown.”

  The dowager duchess joined Grace before the tea setting. “Is that not one of the gowns Mrs. Randall supplied you?”

  Grace placed her sewing to the side. “Yes, and I do so wish to wear it to Lord Hyatt’s celebration.” She did not say she thought the color and the cut might please Lord Godown. Before members of the community, Grace wished to make an acceptable showing. “Either Mrs. Randall’s employees made an error in the gown’s cut or perhaps I should not indulge my delight in Mrs. Greer’s salty bread fresh fr
om the oven.”

  The dowager duchess’s eyebrow rose. “So the gown is too tight?” she said suspiciously.

  Grace returned the teapot to the cozy. “Have I done something to displease you, Your Grace?”

  The dowager duchess smiled easily. “Certainly not, my Dear. Just recall you employ several reliable seamstresses who will make the adjustments to the gown for you.”

  Grace nodded her understanding. “Yet, I so love to see to my own needs. Is it a terrible flaw to be so independent?”

  Her Grace shook her head in denial. “You must find a balance, my Dear. I am certain you do not wish to displace a member of His Lordship’s staff in order to claim your freedoms. Perhaps you could permit Lord Godown’s staff to save face by tending to your needs while finding private pleasure in your music or in the manner in which you organize Godown’s household. Redecorate a few of the rooms and set the women to sewing new drapes and table covers while you claim time to indulge yourself in your own way.”

  “Would Lord Godown object to my rearranging some of the rooms? After all they reflect his mother’s influence.”

  The duchess gestured to the quickly cooling tea, and Grace poured them both a cup. Accepting the drink, Her Grace said, “From what I know of Godown’s hopes for his marriage, my nephew would celebrate your claiming Gossling Hill as your home. As much as Godown reveres his father, Gabriel has no delusions he will ever be Renard. My nephew has lived a different life from his father.”

  They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before the duchess asked, “Would you accept a personal inquiry?”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Grace said honestly.

  The duchess sat her cup and saucer on a side table. “This refers to your gown.”

  Grace frowned. “It is no great bother for me to permit one of the maids to make the adjustments.”

  The flick of the duchess’s wrist cut short Grace’s protest. “I am certain you shall act appropriately, my Dear,” Aunt Bel declared. “Yet, I have another observation if you shall permit it.” Grace nodded her agreement. “When was your last monthly?”

  Grace thought carefully. “I cannot recall,” she murmured. Her expression conveyed her frustration. “There has been so much turmoil of late: Lord Averette’s quick withdrawal from Scotland, my returning to Lancashire to find my sister’s future in jeopardy, and, of course, Lord Godown’s troubles.”

  “Then it was before you met my nephew in Scotland?” the dowager duchess asked guardedly.

  Grace understood the duchess’s implication immediately. “It cannot be, Your Grace!” she protested.

  “The dowager duchess assumed a serious mien. “Grace, I shall not judge you. You would not be the first woman to succumb to Godown’s charms, and I am under the persuasion my nephew has reciprocated. Gabriel is more taken with you than he will ever admit. I also know His Lordship expected to die. Gabriel would want to know life in such a time; he would want to know you before he met his Maker.”

  Grace listened intently. Was there truth in the duchess’s assumptions? Was there hope Lord Godown might actually care for her? “And I expected to spend my life as an upper servant,” Grace said softly.

  The dowager duchess said tentatively. “Then there is a possibility you carry Gabriel’s child?”

  Grace gasped, “But His Lordship said…”

  The duchess finished, “Said that he would prevent just such a scenario.”

  Unconsciously, Grace’s hand splayed protectively over her abdomen. “Could it be true?” she said in disbelief.

  “Some three months,” the dowager duchess contemplated aloud. “Likely too soon to know for certain. But some probability exists. Any nausea? Unusual food cravings?”

  Grace’s apprehension increased. “Should I be doing something special to protect the child?”

  The duchess assured, “You have a houseful of people to assist you. You shall not harm the child by eating Mrs. Greer’s salt bread.”

  Grace’s face lit with happiness. “A child would please His Lordship greatly. I would finally be able to give him the contentment he seeks. Yet, perhaps we should wait to inform Lord Godown. I would not wish to disappoint him.”

  The duchess protested, “You must tell him, Grace.”

  *

  “Tell me what?” Godown said as he stepped through the adjoining room door to Grace’s chamber. Gabriel noted how his wife flushed with color as she sprang to her feet. A brief curtsy and a stammered denial from Grace annoyed him. “If there is nothing of import, why do you and my aunt appear to be in opposition?” he asked as he approached both women.

  Although he knew her uncomfortable with his accusation, Gabriel found Grace’s suddenly stiff shoulders and raised chin admirable. “I assure you, my Lord,” she said tersely, “the duchess and I are not at odds.”

  He admired his wife’s tenacity, but Gabriel would not tolerate her insolence. “Then perhaps I should ask my aunt if she agrees,” he said with a smirk.

  “Godown, I shall not participate in this purposeful struggle,” his Aunt Bel declared as she started toward the door leading to the exterior passage. “Your father used to play these games, and I despised them from my dearest Renard also.” She paused at the door. “As Mama always reminded my brother: A man receives what he most wants if he uses honey instead of vinegar. You would do well to remember that particular fact, Gabriel.” With that warning, his aunt swept from the room.

  Gabriel watched her go before returning his attentions to his wife. She remained immovable. “Despite my aunt’s caution, I am a very curious man. I would know the gist of your conversation.”

  Long minutes passed before Grace said, “The duchess considered my letting out the seams of one of my new gowns a task below the Marquise of Godown’s role.”

  Gabriel studied Grace’s countenance carefully. His wife spoke the truth, but not the entire truth. “Admittedly, the duchess would express her disapproval of your assuming menial tasks, but I doubt she would consider your faux pas something in which I should be made aware.”

  His wife’s defeat became apparent. She sat heavily. “I should not raise your hopes,” she said softly.

  He had thought to sit across from her, but something about his wife’s demeanor told Gabriel what she would share would change his life. “I suspect you should tell me quick.” Even in his most private dreams, he would never have anticipated the words that escaped from his wife’s lips.

  “I may be increasing.” For a brief moment, his heart celebrated, but then he realized it was too soon for Grace to know whether she carried his child. Immediately, anger flooded his soul. “Whose?” he demanded.

  Evidently, his wife had anticipated a different response because it took a few elongated seconds for her to react to his accusation. Disbelief clouded her facial expression. “What mean you by whose?” she declared angrily. She rose quickly. “I have known only one man, my Lord.” Grace’s hands knotted in fists at her waist.

  “Yet, we both know I took precautions the one time we were together in Scotland.” His own hands fisted. To strike out at someone would give Gabriel great pleasure. How could it be? After all he had sacrificed to keep a deceitful woman from foisting another man’s child on him, his wife had done just that. He grasped the chair’s back so hard his knuckles turned white.

  “You would stand there and accuse me of the ultimate betrayal,” she rasped between sobs. “After the intimacy we have shared?”

  “I do not hear your denials, Lady Godown,” Gabriel charged.

  “Why should I deny such idiocy?” Grace declared. “You have already found me guilty.” She grabbed the gown she had mended and tossed it on the bed.

  Gabriel strode purposefully toward the windows. He stared out over the winter garden. “I will not have it, Grace,” he said coldly. “You will not cuckold me. And if this speculation proves true, and you bear a male child, I will refuse him the title.”

  A loud sob escaped her lips. “You would deny your o
wn child.”

  He could not turn to look at her. He had gone against the logic each of his friends had offered, and now he would know a life of shame. The few weeks of bliss had evaporated like the morning fog. “I would never deny my child, but I would deny your child my family’s title.” He turned on her angrily. “I want you gone from this estate by week’s end. Speak to Mr. Thomas, and he will make arrangements for your residence at one of my smaller estates. If the child is a female, I will permit your return.” In dismissal, he strode toward his chambers.

  “If I leave. If you send me away, I will never return,” Grace declared defiantly to his retreating form. “I shall know the love of a child–something that will forever be denied your sorry soul.”

  Gabriel turned menacingly. “Do not tempt me, Grace. Your offense could easily earn me a divorce. I have weathered one scandal, another will be of no significance.”

  Surprisingly, his wife stood her ground. “Divorce me then. Send me and the child from your life. Even then, I shall be richer than you, my Lord.”

  Gabriel paused. How had this conversation gotten so far from his control? “I have business in Town,” he said evenly.

  “Then this is farewell, my Lord,” she said through a stream of tears. “May God protect you, Gabriel.”

  Once again, he had alienated himself from all he held most dear. “Farewell, Grace.”

  *