Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  Despite her weary conditions, Grace was on her feet. “Of what do you accuse me, my Lord?”

  “Grace,” Gabriel said through gritted teeth. “This is not the time to discuss this,” he warned.

  On wobbly legs, his wife stalked away from him. “Why not, my Lord? Do you fear your associates might discover how you have driven me from your home? Or that you think I carry another man’s child? Do you suppose I have sold myself to the Ghost Lord or is it the Baloch with whom I have shared my favors?” she said bitterly. “I suspect you should see to your family, Lord Godown. I shall remain here until I assure myself of the Roses’ safeties. Then I shall give you the freedom you request.” She pointedly turned her back on him.

  “Grace,” he pleaded, but she did not turn to him.

  Henderson returned with her case. “Everything is set, my Lords,” he said as he placed her trunk on the table. “A physician has been secured. He will arrive momentarily.”

  Gabriel watched as his wife hitched the wet blanket closer before she unbuttoned his coat and allowed it to drop to the floor behind her. Herding Henderson before them, he noted how Swenton and Lowery slipped from the room. Grace’s shoulders rose and fell in a silent sob.

  “Do you wish my assistance in changing into something warmer?” he said lamely.

  Sarcasm laced her response. “I am quite practiced in seducing men into coming to my aid. I shall manage, my Lord.”

  “Grace, you know I did not mean what I said.” He wished to reach for her. To comfort her. Yet, he knew she would refuse his efforts.

  Something in her had snapped, and the pain showed clearly on his countenance. The same pain his heart knew. “That is where you err, my Lord. You do mean it. With each of your attacks, you rip my soul to shreds. You punish me for the perfidy Miss Templeton practiced and for Miss Haverty’s actions. I am guilty of being a woman, and in your estimation, all women are deceivers. Because I recognized your loneliness in Scotland, I allowed you to see mine. I permitted you liberties because I could not imagine a more perfect moment, and as a governess, I knew quite well I might never experience such wondrous joy again. Unfortunately, because I succumbed to your seduction, you assume I will accept other men in intimacy.”

  Gabriel paced the room. “Damn it, Grace. Look how you have had to live. Disguising your beauty behind spectacles and a starched appearance. You have been denied your birthright. You have lost your family and your place in Society.”

  “I have never complained, my Lord. Other than one moment of weakness in Scotland, I have never sought what other women take for granted.”

  Swenton appeared at the door. “Godown, we must leave. The boats are waiting.”

  Gabriel bent to retrieve his coat. “Tell the physician I wish to speak to him when I return,” he instructed.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I shall secure the man’s services for your aunts well being.”

  “Promise me you will not leave until we finish this conversation,” he said softly.

  “The conversation is at an end, my Lord.”

  Swenton cleared his throat. “Godown.”

  “Yes, I know.” Swinging the coat over his shoulder, he followed his friend into the night. He did not turn to look at her. He knew she would leave him. Despite what he had always professed, he had not embraced happiness when it had appeared before him. Instead, he had driven it from his door. Had beaten it as one might beat a dusty Holland cover. No matter what came his way, Gabriel would forever remember this moment and the way his heart clutched at his chest.

  *

  “Where be the other one?” a stout man with a scraggily beard demanded.

  The aunts had arranged Grace’s gown and shoes to appear as if their niece saw to her personal needs behind a screen. Anyone who looked closely would know the difference, the Roses had agreed as soon as women discussed their bodily functions men turned away. The toe of one shoe and the hem of Grace’s skirt tail showed from behind the screen.

  “Our niece’s stomach has taken a turn for the worst,” Lyn announced. “I imagine it comes from a combination of the ship’s gentle rocking and her condition.”

  Lía said boldly, “I recall when you carried your first child, my Dear. Your head remained in the chamber pot for nigh on six weeks.”

  Although it was a Banbury tale, Lyn still blushed from her sister’s familiarity. Bel asked innocently, “Would you like me to retrieve my niece?” She stood purposely. “Of course, I cannot guarantee our dear Grace will not cast her oats all over the floor.” She moved as if to assist Grace to appear before the man.

  “No!” He lurched as if considering how displeasing such an action might be. “Leave her be.”

  “I should check on her nonetheless,” Bel said dutifully. “The poor child suffers so.” Bel stepped behind the screen. “There. There. Now, my Dear.”

  The man frowned when a gagging sound came from behind the wooden frame. His face flushed a beet red, and he reached for the door’s latch. “I will be bringin’ ye some bread and ale in a bit.” Then he was gone.

  Bel reappeared. She sucked on her index finger while her sisters stifled their laughter behind cupped hands. “You were always the boldest of we three,” Lía declared.

  “Just a bit of drama,” Bel said softly as she resumed her seat. “Every minute we delay Benjamin Talbot from discovering Grace’s threat brings us another minute closer to rescue.”

  Lyn said concern, “Do you suppose our dearest child is safe?”

  Bel declared, “Godown’s wife is a strong one. Our brother Renard must be celebrating his son’s choice. Lady Godown will fill Gossling Hill with future generations.”

  “Will Godown see his way clear to come to terms with his wife?” Lía asked uncomfortably.

  “The boy loves her. The world sees his regard. Only he does not believe it possible.”

  *

  Grace had held herself in some semblance of composure until her husband’s footsteps indicated his retreat. Then she collapsed. Dropping to her knees. Her body wracked with sorrow. The physician found her there.

  “Come, Lady Godown.” He assisted her to a nearby chair. “Are you injured?” he asked gently.

  Grace shook her head in the negative, but her sobs continued uncontrollably. The man removed the blanket to examine her chest and her arms. Yet, still the tears flowed. “Can you tell me where it hurts?” the physician said with frustration.

  “Here.” Grace grasped the wet shirt above her heart. “It hurts here.” She tapped a finger to her head, which throbbed before trailing it first to her throat, where she could not swallow, to her heart, which refused to beat, to where her child lay quietly waiting to meet his father. And with each point, she said bitterly, “It hurts here.” Through a stream of tears, Grace confessed, “My husband does not love me.”

  The physician appeared lost. “It will be well, Your Ladyship. Men rarely know how to go about with women.” He began to examine her with more earnest. “Permit me to treat your cut and scrapes, and then I will send Mrs. Harrison, the blacksmith’s wife to you. The lady will assist you to dress. Perhaps, a light meal might do you well.”

  Grace stared off. She held no knowledge of what the man said. All she knew was she had to leave before Lord Godown’s return. She could not survive another emotional encounter with her husband. It was not healthy for the child she likely carried. She would permit the physician his duties. Then she would dress, write a letter of farewell to His Lordship’s aunts, and put as many miles as she could between herself and Lord Godown. Loving him as she did, distance would be her only salvation.

  *

  Gabriel watched the activity on the ship, but his mind and his heart remained in the warehouse where he had left his wife behind. Neither Swenton nor Lowery said anything, but he had noted how they eyed him suspiciously. They had heard his wife’s accusations, and they knew his deepest shame. Yet, he would announce his tribulations to the world if it would return him to Grace’s good wishes.
r />   “We are ready to board the ship,” Swenton said softly from behind him.

  Recalling what Talbot had threatened to do to Grace, Gabriel’s ire rose quickly. “You and Lowery can have Jamot; I want Talbot. The man will curse the day he touched my family.”

  Surprisingly, they had managed to maneuver their small boats along side the ship before the alarm rang out. Immediately, three dozen men set to climbing ropes and scaling the ship’s sides. Lowery led the forces on the leeward side, while he and another dozen men followed Swenton on the starboard. Two Realm ships blocked the exit from the harbor, and Swenton had arranged for the local authorities to guard the docks in case any of the culprits escaped.

  Total chaos reigned by the time Gabriel swung his leg over the lip of the railing and dropped to stand upon the Sea Spray’s deck. A quick glance told him no Englishmen fought the Realm’s forces, and he wondered if Talbot had escaped; however, a moment later, the man appeared from below deck. Sword in hand, Gabriel thrust at the first of the Chinese shipmates who charged him. The man went down. At least, a dozen more stood between him and where Benjamin Talbot fought with Henderson.

  With renewed vigor, Gabriel challenged each of those in his path. A jab. An uppercut. A sword to a prime point. High and low. He struck. Parried. Swung his arms wide. Fought for Grace. For his aunts. Fought for an end to the torment. To the loneliness. Fought for the family he had lost. For the years away from his mother’s arms and his father’s pride. For an answer to the question that haunted him forever: Why had the Templetons singled him out?

  “Aaaht!” he screamed as he delivered another lethal blow. The training he had received from the British government had been the best money could purchase. The ship’s crew fought well, but they were never a match for the combined force of the Realm. Within minutes, only a few skirmishes remained. Delivering a debilitating blow to the windpipe of his enemy, Gabriel found himself facing off with the man who had designed his anguish.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When the man had returned with the bread and ale, it had taken him only moments to discover their perfidy. “I knows it to be so,” he grumbled as he shoved Bel from where she set herself to block his view. “Where be she? The young one?” he demanded. “Lord Spectre will not be happy.”

  Bel set her shoulders in an aristocratic stance. “I fear neither my sisters nor I know the whereabouts of our niece.”

  He growled, “We be seeing how them fine manners impress His Lordship,” he said as he caught Bel’s elbow and dragged her toward the door. He made a great show of locking her sisters in the room, and for a moment, Bel wondered if she would see them again. Then she heard their calls from the other side of the door. They would fight for her. As the man tightened his grip upon her arm to lead her to Benjamin Talbot, Bel recognized two distinct sounds: her sisters pounding on the door for release and a scuffle on the deck. Grace had known success. With a satisfied smile, the duchess permitted the foul-smelling Englishman to direct her toward the sound of the melee.

  *

  Grace glanced about the empty warehouse. She had dressed in her most serviceable wool gown for warmth, but also as a final act of defiance. She would not take with her the gowns created for her by Mrs. Randall. Nor would she accept the lovely strand of pearls that once belonged to Lord Godown’s mother. She did pack the small gifts of endearment her husband’s family had given her as tokens of their respect: a beautiful comb for her hair, a hand-painted fan, and a music box. It was only those items, which held personal remembrances of Gabriel Crowden that she had chosen to leave behind. Grace placed the two letters she had written on the table’s middle: one expressed her gratitude to the Roses for their support; the second a farewell to Lord Godown.

  “The carriage is waiting, Ma’am.” Her husband had assigned one of those in training to see to Grace’s needs.

  She retrieved her cloak and followed the young man from the room. Only the trace of tears and a wistful look over her shoulder told the world this was the last outcome she would have chosen for her life.

  *

  Gabriel warily eyed the man who had named him as his enemy. It was odd: He recognized the gentleman whom Grace had identified as Benjamin Talbot, but Gabriel held no memory of the lord prior to this moment. He would have known the man’s connection to Grace because of Gabriel’s spying on Foresthill, as well as from her sketches; yet, to his knowledge, Gabriel had never encountered Talbot before this moment.

  “Ah, the great Lord Godown!” Talbot sneered as he shifted to a defensive position.

  “You have the advantage, Sir,” Gabriel answered. He switched his sword from his right hand to his left. With the Realm, he had learned to use both hands equally well. Realizing an attack from the left would place Talbot at a disadvantage, he set himself in an offensive stance.

  Talbot’s smirk spread across his countenance. “You know my name, my Lord.”

  Gabriel said sarcastically, “Would that be Jonah Wright, Lord Spectre, or Lord Talbot?”

  “The first two have served me well upon occasion. The third holds its inaccuracies. You see, Godown, I am not a lord.”

  “Then Mr. Talbot, it is.” Gabriel noted how Lowery and Swenton had placed themselves in strategic positions. If Gabriel failed, his friends would apprehend Talbot. Gabriel edged a bit further to the left in an attempt to draw Talbot into the open. “So, Mr. Talbot,” he said evenly, “would you care to explain what offense I have offered you?”

  Talbot snorted in contempt. “You know exactly what offense you have given, Godown.”

  Gabriel shook his head in denial. “I know nothing of the sort. What would bring you to the point of making an attempt on my life? The only reality of which I am aware is whatever you perceive as my perfidy has something to do with Gardenia Templeton and to Lady Godown.” Gabriel hated to place Grace’s name into the mix, but he had to discover the truth if his marriage was to survive.

  Talbot must have read Gabriel’s unease because he said, “Ah, the lovely Miss Nelson. I am surprised you have chosen the baron’s sister for your wife. The lady is not your usual fare, but then perhaps that particular fact was the lady’s appeal.”

  “How would you know of my taste in women?” Gabriel accused.

  Talbot gestured with the gun he held. “Because I have made it my business to know everything about you.”

  “And what do you know of my wife?” Gabriel said evenly. From the first moment Gabriel had learned of Grace’s possible pregnancy, he had wondered if she had known this man intimately.

  Talbot’s eyebrow rose in a challenge. “Baron Nelson freely shared his drink, his wealth, and his family.”

  Gabriel’s heart stopped beating. On their journey into Lancashire, Grace had confronted Geoffrey Nelson regarding her brother’s lack of regard for her and her sister’s safety. At the time, Gabriel had wanted to question his wife about what had happened, but after Grace had received word of her sister’s disappearance, she had been too distraught to share the details, and he had avoided the truth. He had feared he would learn his suspicions would prove faithful.

  A familiar voice said from the opening to the lower decks. “Do not believe him, Godown. Grace fought off Talbot’s advances.”

  Gabriel nearly groaned in defeat. His imperious Aunt Bel stood majestically at the opening. Behind her was a rough hulk of a man with a pistol pointing at her head.

  “Keep the Duchess quiet. Even if you must kill her,” Talbot ordered.

  The man nodded his understanding. “Aye, my Lord.”

  Gabriel’s attention remained on Talbot. This man held the answers to Gabriel’s questions. Somehow, he must extract the truth from this man’s lips. “Do not do anything foolhardy, Tantine,” he warned. He observed how Swenton edged closer to the opening. Gabriel addressed Talbot, “May we return to my previous offense, Mr. Talbot. It appears we have been distracted.” Gabriel worked hard to keep his tone nonchalant.

  “Then you wish to hear no more of my relationship w
ith Lady Godown?” Talbot taunted.

  Gabriel’s grasp tightened on his sword, but he said with confidence, “Any such tales are best spoken by Her Ladyship,” he declared. And for once, he had meant the words he had spoken. Immediately, regret had filled his heart. He had accused Grace of the worst possible betrayal; yet, his wife had offered his aunt an explanation the Duchess obviously believed. Believed enough to speak out even when imminent danger lurked beside her. When this was over, Gabriel would listen to Grace’s version of what had transpired between his wife and Talbot, and no matter what she shared, he would find it in his heart to forgive her.

  “That is ill,” Talbot said with ease. “And I had hoped to regale you with delicious stories of deception.” He stepped boldly forward. “For now, it is of no import. Once I dispose of you, then Lady Godown will require a consort who understands her needs.” He gestured to his minion. “Bring the Duchess here, Sells.” Gabriel watched in disbelief as Talbot’s man shoved Bel toward his master. Gabriel cursed under his breath. He wished to face Talbot without interference. Before Gabriel could react, the would-be Lord caught Bel about the neck. Effectively using the Duchess as a shield, Talbot ordered, “First, send your associates away. This is between the two of us, Godown.”

  Gabriel did not turn his head. Yet, he instructed, “Lowery. Swenton. Withdraw.”

  Lowery made a show of taking several steps backwards. It was a ploy they had used often in tight spots. One member of the group created a diversion while the others placed themselves in positions to attack. From his eye’s corner, Gabriel noted how Swenton had circled behind a coil of rope before slipping into the opening. Gabriel was certain Talbot had not seen the light-footed baron because the man told Sells to fetch Bel’s sisters.

  “Aye, my Lord,” the scoundrel said with alacrity as he disappeared through the opening. Swenton would see to Talbot’s underling.

  Gabriel could concentrate on the man who held Bel in a stranglehold. He shifted his weight further to the left. “We continue to avoid the truth of our connection, Talbot. So much so I begin to suspect you have created a point of contention from your imagination,” he mocked.