Lord Greyton's Fall From Grace (Lords of Avalon Novella Series)

by K. R. Richards

  1

  LORD GREYTON’S FALL FROM GRACE

  By K. R. Richards

  Lords of Avalon Novella Series

  Novella 1

  Copyright © 2012 by K. R. Richards

  This book is dedicated to my dear friend, Wanda Cadle. Wanda has helped me edit the Lords of Avalon Series and has supported me every single step of the way on this journey.

  I look forward to our periodic caffeine and Cheesecake sessions while I’m working on a book and our Margarita and Mexican Food Celebration Nights upon the completion of each book!

  I am specifically dedicating Lord Greyton’s Fall from Grace to Wanda because she was the very first one to tell me that she wanted to know more about Owen and Grace after she read Lords of Honor. So here it is Wanda!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Excerpt from Book 2 of the Lords of Avalon Series,

  Lords of Honor

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Hartland, Devon, June 1830

  Grace Brackenridge saw Owen Darrington, Viscount Greyton, the moment he stepped into the ballroom. Her heart soared. She hoped he would attend! Lord and Lady Middlebrook’s Summer Ball was certainly the largest and most anticipated social event of the year in the Hartland peninsula area. Lord Greyton escorted his sister, Lady Elizabeth, and his aunt. Charles Inwood, Viscount Silverley, entered behind Owen and his family. He escorted his mother, Lady Stanbridge, and his two younger sisters, Lady Tuesday and Lady Wednesday. Matthias Halfknight, Viscount Sinclair, completed their party.

  Grace hadn’t had the chance to see or speak to Lord Greyton since her return from London two weeks before. She had spent the last year in London at her Aunt’s home. Grace hadn’t met a man in all of London who intrigued her more than Owen Darrington, Lord Greyton. They had known one another since childhood. For as long as she could remember, Owen Darrington was the man of her dreams. Her father hoped she would find a husband in London, but she did not wish to marry any of the men she met there. She wanted to marry Owen. Grace had not seen or spoken to him in over a year. She was determined to speak to him tonight.

  Owen and his party congregated near to where her father spoke to one of his cronies from Bideford, Lord Marston. She was tempted to join her father, however, she knew Lord Marston would ask her to dance and she did not wish to dance with him.

  Instead, Grace stayed with her friend, Meg, in a circle of Mrs. Bell’s friends. She could not continue to glance in Owen’s direction, so she remained where she was and tried to participate in the conversation with Meg’s mother’s acquaintances.

  After a time, Mrs. Bell turned from the circle to greet the gentlemen who were approaching them. “Lord Silverley, Lord Greyton and Lord Sinclair, we’re happy to see you gentlemen this evening!” Mrs. Bell added with less enthusiasm, “How nice, you’ve brought your lovely sisters along.”

  Grace turned around to greet the newest additions to their party and nearly bumped into Owen he stood so close to her.

  “Miss Brackenridge, I am happy to see you again. You’ve been away from Devon for a long time,” Owen greeted the beauty whom he was always fond of. The moment he set eyes on her he knew he must speak to her. The year had been kind to Grace, indeed, though he knew her to be three and twenty; she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He thought of Grace often during the long months of her absence. He would think at times perhaps he should have courted her; for he realized once she left Devon for London, how very attracted to her he was. He feared at times she would return to Devon either engaged or as another man’s wife.

  He was very pleased to find she returned to Hartland unmarried. She looked particularly lovely in a well-fitting gown of icy pink silk. Her golden-brown hair gleamed in the well-lit ballroom and her large, dark-brown eyes captivated him as always.

  “My Lord.” Grace gave a quick curtsy to Owen and the newcomers and smiled. She greeted the other gentlemen and Lady Elizabeth, Lady Tuesday and Lady Wednesday. The young ladies, all long time friends, chatted happily.

  A couple came to join their growing circle.

  Grace smiled when she recognized her girlhood friend. “Lady Burrow! How wonderful to see you again. I did not know you were in Devon.” Grace extended her hand to greet her dear friend.

  The two women kissed one another’s cheeks and smiled.

  Her husband, the Marquess of Burrow, spoke with the gentlemen who moved to the side of the ladies’ circle.

  “Lady Elizabeth, how are you dear?” Lady Burrow, her chestnut colored hair arranged in an ornate coiffure befitting a Marchioness, greeted Lord Greyton’s younger sister in the same manner. She moved on to greet Charlie’s sisters.

  “My dear friends, I miss you all so much! You all look so happy.” Catherine, Lady Burrow, smiled genuinely at her girlhood friends.

  “What brings you from Bath, Lady Burrow?” Lady Tuesday Inwood, who had the same sandy hair and blue eyes as her brother, Charlie, asked sweetly.

  “Come now, Tuesday, I refuse to be formal amongst such dear friends. My mother is ill, and I felt I must come to spend some time with her. Lord Burrow was kind enough to set aside his business for the next week and join me.”

  Grace thought for the briefest moment she saw sadness in her friend Catherine’s eyes. Seconds later, Catherine smiled a particularly brilliant smile. Grace forgot about the moment as the ladies eagerly proceeded to catch up on one another’s lives.

  After a time, Owen came to stand by her side. Grace felt his presence as well as his gaze upon her. She looked up into familiar dark blue eyes which resembled sapphires. Dressed impeccably in black trousers and a finely cut coat, his sable hair was well-trimmed and neatly combed. His waistcoat was a fine, dark green silk brocade. He wore a winking ruby pin in his cravat. “I hope I have not arrived too late, Miss Brackenridge. Please tell me there are dances remaining on your card for me.”

  “I have several dances remaining, and they are yours if you wish, Lord Greyton.”

  “The next is a waltz. I am hoping it is not taken.” Owen smiled down at her.

  Grace did not know what it was about Owen’s smile that affected her so. It started with a warm feeling that began in her belly that soon spread throughout her limbs. “It is taken by you, Lord Greyton.” Grace smiled up at him. Owen seemed particularly interested in her tonight, and she would in no way discourage his interest. Her father wanted her married. Grace had long dreamed of marrying Owen.

  “Lord Silverley, my husband has deserted me. No doubt he has found the card room. I insist you dance with me, for I love a waltz.” The Marchioness of Burrow turned to Charlie.

  Grace noted Charlie looked somewhat surprised, possibly even irritated. Perhaps he intended to dance with someone else? Yet he nodded and offered his arm to Catherine. Grace wondered at his reaction. She remembered Charlie and Catherine always getting along before she married The Marquess of Burrow.

  Grace took Owen’s arm. He led her onto the dance floor.

  She smiled up at him as the waltz began. It had been at least two years since she danced with Owen. As they whirled about the floor, Grace was reminded what an accomplished dancer he was.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Grace!” He finally spoke. He was mesmerized by the beauty he held in his arms. Not only was Grace beautiful, she was smart, gentle and kind, and sh
e had a wonderful sense of humor. He knew all this to be true, for they grew up together in Hartland. They played together as children. Her absence had affected him more than he realized, he reasoned. Having fully expected to hear of Grace being engaged or married, he had prepared himself for the disappointment such news would bring. But here she was, the same gentle lady, unmarried and smiling up at him. He was so thankful at that moment to be holding Grace in his arms.

  “I’m so happy to be back home in Hartland, Owen. Father hoped I would return to Radley married, but I did not. I am happy to be home. I missed Devon very much.” And you! She dared not say it, but the words and emotions were there, in her heart.

  No man she met in London was comparable to Owen in her opinion. Though for some years, although Owen always treated her with the utmost respect and kindness, he hadn’t seemed particularly interested in her in the romantic way. Until tonight. Indeed, he did seem interested.

  “I’m happy you came home, Grace, and that you are unmarried.” He meant it. Owen couldn’t keep his eyes from Grace’s beautiful face. Her beauty was classic. Her features were lovely and delicate. Her skin was creamy and flawless. It was her large, liquid brown eyes and long dark lashes that mesmerized him.

  The way she felt in his arms this night seemed so right. In years past he remembered being satisfied with a mere kiss from Grace. He realized at that moment he wanted much more than stolen kisses from this woman. He felt a peace settle over him at that moment.

  He spent his adult years searching for that thing that would fulfill him. He had never known exactly what it was he searched for. He now guessed the fulfillment he had been searching for had been right under his nose all along. It stood before him in the form of Grace Brackenridge; a young woman who lived not five miles from Roseland Abbey, and whom he now held in his arms. He could picture Grace in his mind at that moment, at Roseland with him as his wife. Truly this was the first time in his life he ever contemplated marriage. The thought overpowered him. Not in an overwhelming way, but a warm, happy, even peaceful way.

  Grace happened to glance beside them to see Charlie and Catherine whirl by them. They were both frowning, appeared quite unhappy and spoke in hushed, serious tones.

  She returned her gaze to Owen and smiled when she realized he was studying her. He returned her smile. It was a slow, lazy smile that made her tingle all over.

  When the dance ended, Owen kept Grace’s hand upon his arm and led her to the refreshment table. They talked to Charlie who was now joined by Grace’s friend, Meg. Grace noted that Catherine had rejoined Tuesday and Wednesday.

  After some jovial conversation, the pair of couples decided to step out onto the veranda. At Charlie’s suggestion, they walked along the garden path which became darker the farther they went. After a time, Charlie and Meg turned down a different path.

  Grace found herself alone with Owen.

  “Grace?” Owen stopped walking.

  “Yes, Owen?” Grace stopped and looked up into his eyes.

  “I wish to court you, Grace. Is that acceptable to you?”

  “Yes!” Grace breathed. “It makes me very happy actually.” She smiled.

  “I wish to call on you tomorrow at Radley.”

  “I will look forward to your visit, Owen.”

  Owen’s expression grew serious. “I missed you Grace.”

  “I missed you too, Owen.” It was why she had not married any other after all.

  “I stole a kiss from you once when you were eighteen, do you remember?” he asked her.

  Grace nodded. “Yes, even though it was five years ago, I do remember.” She had never forgotten. In truth she played the scene over and over in her mind since that time.

  “Will you let me kiss you now, Grace?”

  Grace boldly stepped toward him. She would not miss the opportunity she had dreamed of. “I will. I would like you to kiss me, Owen.”

  Owen’s large hands moved to her shoulders. He eased Grace gently toward him and covered her lips with his. The kiss began sweet and tender; and though he tried to keep himself reined in, passion flamed between them and he deepened the kiss and probed the warmth of her mouth with his tongue. She responded!

  Grace felt heat travel through her body and limbs. She did not remember the kiss of five years before being quite so passionate. She did not remember clinging to Owen desperately and responding so hungrily, or pressing herself against his hard muscular body. In truth she felt she might die at that moment if she did not get closer to him.

  “You are so beautiful, Grace. Dear, dear, Grace,” Owen whispered breathlessly in her ear before his lips trailed a path down the curve of her neck.

  Owen’s lips returned to hers once more. He kissed her thoroughly and deeply before pulling away. “Grace, we best return to the ballroom. I fear our presence will be missed. I will call on you at two tomorrow. I insist upon having two more of your dances tonight.”

  Grace was trying to collect herself after such a wondrous experience. Never had she been kissed like that. “Yes, we should return. I have a country dance and another waltz that I saved for you, Owen. Two o’clock tomorrow shall be perfect. I look forward to your visit.”

  He grinned as Grace presented him with a dazzling smile.

  As they neared the path where Charlie and Meg turned off they heard Charlie’s voice, though raspy and deep, “Sweet Jesu, Meg!”

  Grace cocked her head and looked at Owen. Charlie sounded as if he were in pain.

  “Charlie, we need to get the ladies back inside,” Owen called out.

  “A few more minutes…meet us near the veranda.”

  Grace thought Charlie’s voice still sounded strained, yet she heard a giggle from her friend Meg.

  “Come Grace,” Owen wrapped his large hand about her upper arm and pulled her forward on the path.

  “Owen, Charlie sounded odd, what were they doing?” Grace asked.

  Owen stopped. They were still well hidden in the tall hedges. “Shh, Grace.” He placed his finger on her beautiful, rosy lips, still swollen from his kisses. “Don’t think about Charlie and Meg. Think about us.” He lowered his head and kissed her again.

  In Owen’s arms, with their tongues entwined, Grace did forget all about Charlie and Meg.

  Owen danced a country dance with Grace and another with his sister, Libby. They now stood in a large group that included, Owen and Libby, Charlie and his sisters, Matthias, Grace, Meg and her mother, Mrs. Bell, as well as Lady Burrow. Grace’s father stopped by their circle to pay his addresses and afterward excused himself to withdraw to the card room.

  Owen found he could scarcely keep his eyes off of Grace as she spoke with his sister Libby and Charlie’s sister, Tuesday. The next was a waltz, his waltz with Grace.

  Just before the waltz began, Lord Marston approached the group.

  “I hope you saved your last waltz for me, Miss Brackenridge.” He bowed stiffly before Grace.

  “I – I am sorry, Lord Marston, I did not. All my remaining dances are taken.”

  “Perhaps next time we meet, Miss Brackenridge,” Lord Marston’s frosty tone reflected his unhappiness with the situation.

  Lord Marston bowed and turned to leave, but not before his angry gaze rested first on Grace and moved next to Owen.

  Owen’s hand instinctively went to Grace’s elbow. “I believe this is our waltz, Miss Brackenridge,” he drawled as he smiled down at her.

  “It is, Lord Greyton.” She smiled happily as she gave him a nod.

  Owen led her onto the dance floor. “Grace, Marston seemed angry. Do you often dance with him?” Owen asked with concern. He did not like the menace the man clearly showed toward them both.

  “No, never if I can help it. He is one of my father’s friends, and I must say I find his company quite uncomfortable.” At Owens look of alarm, she hastily added, “He is always a gentleman, I assure you, Owen, but there is something about the man I do not like.”

  Owen nodded. He could not say much. He had n
o real claim to Grace, even though at this moment he felt he did. He fully intended to be able to lay claim to Grace soon. He decided to forget about Marston and gave his full attention to the beauty in his arms.

  They sought refreshment once again after their waltz, and meandered onto the veranda. There was no sign of Charlie and Meg, though Grace saw them exit the French doors while she and Owen were finishing their punch.

  Owen refrained from taking Grace into the dark gardens. He did not trust himself to only kiss her this time. He wanted far more. And he knew he would have to offer for her and marry her before he could have all that he wanted. He leaned back against the veranda railing and studied the beautiful woman before him.

  “Will your father allow you to take a ride in the phaeton with me tomorrow?” He added hastily, “With your maid of course.”

  “I believe he will, Owen. That sounds lovely.”

  “I thought we would venture to the quay.”

  “Wonderful! I haven’t been to the Quay since my return. I so missed the North Devon coast while in London.”

  There was no one else about on the veranda. The last dance was underway. Grace was lovely anytime, but in the moonlight, she resembled a goddess; her golden brown hair reflected the light from the lanterns, her eyes were dark and luminous. Her rosy lips drew his gaze. He straightened and stepped closer to her. He gazed into those dark eyes. “Grace, may I kiss you again?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a slight nod as she took a half step closer to him.

  The kiss they shared was tender and gentle. They each savored and drew it out. Until Charlie and Meg’s voices could be heard coming from the garden path.

  Owen and Grace quickly stepped apart. Grace saw Charlie place Meg’s hand upon his arm.

  She smiled to herself. It seemed she was enamored of Owen, and her friend, Meg, appeared to be enamored of his best friend.

  “I think I should return you to the ballroom, Grace.”

  “Very well, Owen.” She smiled as she placed her hand on his arm. Charlie and Meg entered right behind them.