His Saving Grace

by Heather Gray

  Grace cast a worried glance at Rupert. Why haven't we heard from Thomas? Her concern for her husband had steadily increased. Whether it was the pregnancy or the isolation of Northumberland playing tricks on her mind, she continued to hear his voice at times, usually as she was drifting off to sleep. Positive Thomas had spoken to her, she would sit up to find she was alone in her chamber. She hadn't told anyone but Rupert of her imaginings.

  I don't want everyone to look at me with pity. Or worse, compare me to Thomas's great aunt who was sent here after losing her mind.

  While everyone around her cheered in celebration of the war's end, Grace worried her lower lip.

  I'm afraid that one of these days I might start answering back when I think I hear his voice. Where, oh where, is Thomas?

  Chapter Fourteen

  July 1815

  Three weeks passed. No word had been returned from the War Office, not even an acknowledgement of Rupert's inquiry. It had been more than two months since the last letter she'd received from Thomas and over four months since he'd gone away. Grace couldn't help but think back to the time they'd spent together after being wed. Parts of it had been so contentious, and parts of it had been pure wonder.

  She was sitting out in the garden enjoying the fresh air, her hand resting gently on the slight swell of her abdomen. Lord, I'm so afraid. Where is Thomas? In truth, she was choking on her fear. She had heard tell that pregnant women were more emotional, but she believed she would have felt this way even if she weren't with child. Thomas had told her they still had years of marriage ahead of them, and she'd believed him. The lack of letters wore on her, making her feel sluggish and hollow. She tried to be strong, but each day of silence brought her closer to the brink of hysteria.

  She'd worn a puce dress today because it reminded her of Thomas. It wasn't yet obvious to a casual observer, but as the babe within her grew, her previous dresses had become uncomfortably binding. When she'd sent Margaret into Newcastle to obtain more material for dresses, she'd told her to be sure to include puce. It was a small thing, but it made her feel that she was honoring her husband's wishes.

  As the fragrance of flowers wafted on the passing breeze, she recalled Thomas's words. You are a strong, brave, and wonderful woman. I am honored to call you wife. Don't let my absence take your sparkle away. I will believe you are here reading the newspaper and getting involved in things other women wouldn't dare. Promise me you will continue being you.

  "I promise," she said softly, sadly.

  "Promise what?" came a man's voice from her left.

  "Great. Now I'm imagining things in broad daylight. I'm going to end up confined to my room if word of this gets out."

  A rugged man with far too much facial hair and startling blue eyes sat down beside her on the bench. "What sorts of promises are you giving out today?"

  "I was promising my husband, who's not here by the way, that I would continue doing my best to get into trouble." Grace refused to look at the man beside her. He's not real. If I ignore him, he'll go away.

  "I'm sure your husband would appreciate such a promise. Men rarely like obedient and subservient wives."

  At least when I imagine I hear Thomas's voice, he's saying all the things I want to hear.

  "That's a lovely dress you're wearing. I like that color on you." The hairy ruffian from her imagination seemed intent on having a conversation with her.

  Should I tell Rupert about this? Maybe he'll tell me it's not so unusual…

  A commotion came from the right, and she saw Rupert approaching, his black hair flying as he ran. "My goodness. I've never seen him move like that," she said.

  "I have," the man replied, "but it involved guns, gambling, and a very persistent innkeeper's daughter."

  When Rupert came to a screeching halt a short distance away, he simply said, "Your Grace."

  "I'm not doing anything wrong out here, Rupert," she told him. When she glanced up and saw Rupert's puzzled expression, she asked, "Is there a problem? Am I needed inside?"

  The voice from beside her said, "She thinks she's come unhinged and is having a conversation with an imaginary man."

  Grace, assuming she alone could hear the man, refused to dignify his remark with a response. "Rupert, is anything wrong?"

  "I—I got word from the groomsman we had a new arrival. I went to check and found Hero in our stable."

  Gawking at Rupert, she asked, "Hero?" He nodded. Then, still not convinced of her own sanity, she asked, "Is there anyone sitting next to me?" He nodded again. "Who sits beside me?" she asked.

  "His Grace," came his reply.

  Taking her fan, she walloped her husband on the arm as hard as she could. "How dare you scare me so? I've had no idea where you were or whether you were alive or dead! The War Office would tell us nothing. The newspaper said the war was over, but you didn't come home!"

  "Now that you've hit me, do you think I can have a hug?" Thomas asked.

  Grace jumped up from the bench and faced him, hands on her hips and said, "You are not getting away with it that easily! Where have you been, and why could I not reach you?"

  "If I promise to tell you everything after the evening meal when we retire for the night, can I have a hug? Maybe even a kiss?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rupert shaking his head as he walked away. Calling out to him, she asked, "Rupert, you swear he's here?"

  He didn't turn back around to look at them, but his call of, "Yes, Your Grace," could not be missed.

  Dashing away the tears flowing down her cheeks, she said to her husband, "I missed you."

  Thomas, no longer needing to stay out of reach of her fan, rose to join her. He pulled her into his embrace, held her tenderly, and said, "I missed you more than you'll ever know. Wherever you go for the rest of your life, I will be there. No matter where it is, my home will always be in your arms. You, my dear," he said, gently brushing the loosened tendrils of her black hair away from her face, "will always be God's special gift to me, my saving grace." Then he leaned and captured her mouth with his own, his beard a reassuring tickle against her skin.

  Of course he's real. I never would have conceived of giving him facial hair!

  ****

  That evening over dinner, served in the formal dining room out of deference to her husband, Grace learned that in addition to speaking English, he also spoke French, German, and some Russian. If that hadn't been surprising enough, he explained he'd twice before used his skill with languages to assist the Duke of Wellington with special diplomatic missions behind enemy borders. Not willing to let him have the corner on shocking news, she waited until he took a bite of dessert, a fluffy confection of cake and pudding, then told him, "I'm increasing. The doctor thinks the babe will be born around Martinmas."

  Thomas's sudden intake of breath led to choking. Grace jumped up and hit him repeatedly on the back as hard as she could manage. The footman had stepped out, so she called out, "Rupert! Rupert! His Grace is choking!" Both the footman and Rupert came running into the dining room. Rupert grabbed Thomas from her and pounded him on the back hard enough to crack the ribs of a lesser man.

  "Can you breathe yet, Your Grace?" Rupert yelled, continuing to hit his back.

  Thomas finally managed to jump away from Rupert. He stood with his back to the table and said, "I'd be able to breathe splendidly if you'd stop hitting me so hard!"

  Casting his eyes from the duke to Grace, Rupert asked, "Is everything all right then, Your Grace?"

  Trying to hide her laughter behind a hand, she answered, "Everything's fine, Rupert. I informed His Grace he's to be a father. Who could have known it was possible to choke on pudding?"

  Signaling for the footman to precede him, Rupert retreated from the room, shaking his head much as he had that afternoon when he'd left them in the garden.

  Spinning to face his wife, Thomas said, "There was no need to call Rupert in. Do you realize how strong he is?" Wincing as he rolled his shoulders, he said, "I think I'm
worse off now than I was before."

  No longer bothering to contain her mirth, Grace laughed. "The look on your face was priceless, you know. I shan't ever forget it."

  "So we're going to be having a child, are we?"

  "Someday," she said impishly. "I believe we'll start with a babe, though, if that's acceptable to you."

  Thomas pulled her close into an embrace. "I thought I noticed something different this afternoon. In fear that you'd missed me so much you'd taken to overindulging in sweets, I decided I shouldn't remark."

  She punched him half-heartedly in the arm and said, "You surely know how to charm the ladies. It's no wonder they were all throwing themselves at you in London."

  Thomas took her hand and began to move toward the door. "I think it's time we retire for the night. It's been too long since I've played lady's maid for a beautiful woman." As they walked hand in hand toward the grand staircase, he asked, "Have you been doing some redecorating? It seems that some of the statuary is not where I remember it."

  Grace's laughter echoed throughout the castle before she told him, grinning, "I decided to take a more minimalist approach."

  Epilogue

  February 1816

  William Robert Stanbury, the next Duke of Stafford, was two months old. He'd come along in December, about a month after Martinmas. He was strong and healthy.

  Margaret and Elsie returned to Stafford with the duke and duchess, along with the footman. Elsie continued as Grace's lady's maid and was grudgingly accepted by the other staff. Margaret, thankful for the fresh start in a new place, took on the role of nursemaid to the young heir. Whenever Elsie wasn't seeing to Grace, she was often found in the nursery with Margaret and the babe.

  Rupert remained at Castle Felton. Thomas had officially appointed him as steward to oversee the tenants and land. The village had suffered some neglect by his continued absence from the far northern estate over the past years, and Thomas wanted to put that to rights. His father had once told him any duke worth his weight took good care of his tenants and his family. Thomas aimed to do a better job in the future, and appointing Rupert, the perfect man for the job, was the first step.

  Once Napoleon was safely away on his island of exile, the Duke of Wellington pulled some strings to get Thomas released from his military commitment. Thomas would have served out his year had it been required, but Grace was grateful to the duke for discharging her husband so he could stay close to her. It had been important to her that he be nearby, even if downstairs, when she'd labored to bring their son into the world.

  "How are you this afternoon?" Thomas asked as he entered her salon and spied his lovely emerald-eyed wife.

  "I am well, husband. How are you?"

  Thomas didn't answer, but instead handed her a newspaper. "I'm going to be tied up all day with parliament and won't be back until long after dinner. I thought you might find this of interest."

  "You are going to tease me then and not tell me what exactly I will find of interest in the newspaper?"

  "It wouldn't be proper for me to speak to a woman about the goings-on in other people's marriages, certainly not that of Lord Byron and Lady Anne. If, however, you read about it yourself," he said with a shrug and a wink, "then there's nothing I can do about that."

  "You know if Rupert were here, I'd yell to him that you're choking."

  Before Grace realized what he was up to, Thomas snatched the newspaper back away from her and skipped out of reach. "Are you sure you want to threaten me with a beating, dear wife? Wouldn't you rather…?"

  Rolling her eyes, she asked, "What am I going to have to do in order to get the newspaper back?"

  Thomas gave her a deep bow and said, "Give me a kiss and tell me I'm the most amazing man you've ever met."

  Grace popped up onto her tiptoes and gave her husband a light kiss on the cheek. Then, grabbing the newspaper from his grasp and running, she shouted behind her, "You are the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

  The duke and duchess's laughter could be heard throughout their townhome as she fled and he pursued. Their London butler, Frederick, shook his head while the maids went about their business as though this were an everyday occurrence, which, in truth, it was.

  About The Author

  Aside from her long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather's greatest joys in life are her relationship with her Savior, her family, and writing. Years ago, she decided it would be better to laugh than yell. Heather carries that theme over into her writing where she strives to create characters that experience both the highs and lows of life and, through it all, find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

  More from Heather Gray

  Chapter One

  Larkspur, Idaho Territory

  April 1878

  Sarah had noticed a number of new faces in town over the past few days, and it was beginning to make her more than a bit uncomfortable. The new faces were all men. Sure, men outnumbered women in every frontier town, but Sarah had seen more than a dozen new men and had heard rumors that Mrs. Ginty’s boarding house was full-up, which had never happened before. Larkspur was a small frontier town in a territory sparsely populated, and Sarah had never before heard of Mrs. Ginty having to turn away customers.

  New people in town can sometimes mean good news. Businesses certainly like having more customers. It can mean trouble, too, though, when the newcomers start to outnumber the homegrown townsfolk. Sarah had heard tell of towns where ruffians had swarmed in, taking over the town and practically holding the locals prisoner by sheer force of number. A small shudder overtook her at the thought of such brutality.

  Sarah’s papa had well trained her how to take care of and provide for herself, but ever since he passed away, she had no one to protect her should the need ever arise. Sighing, she forced her loneliness back down, beating it into submission by sheer force of will.

  Keeping her eyes directed down, Sarah walked from the small house she had once shared with Papa. She was heading to the stage office for a long day of work and, with all these new people in town, did not want to make eye contact with the wrong individual. The workday hadn’t even yet begun, but Sarah couldn’t wait for the day to be finished. This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it, Sarah quoted in her mind as she reminded herself to be grateful. She was looking forward to sharing a meal with her dearest friend tonight. Dinner with the Smiths held much more appeal than another long day at the stage office. Visiting with Minnie and her folks was always delightful. Sarah also hoped Minnie’s father, who was mayor of Larkspur, might be able to shed some light on the flood of strange men showing up in town.

  Sarah heard a commotion to her left. Before she could even raise her eyes to see what was going on, someone came barreling out from the mercantile and plowed right into her. Sarah’s feet flew out from under her, and she landed out in the street, far from the boardwalk on which she had a moment ago been walking. Before she could take stock of the situation to determine if she’d landed in mud or manure, at least a dozen hands were reaching out to help her up. Frightened by all of the men crowding in around her and not sure of their intentions, Sarah scrambled to her feet and backed up from the growing crowd. She did not recognize a single face from the group that continued to step closer to her.

  As she scurried backward, Sarah ran right smack into a wall. She didn’t remember a wall being there in the middle of the street, but sure enough, she was trapped between the wall behind her and the wall of men walking toward her.

  “Pardon me, gentlemen, but I think you have frightened the lady here.” Sarah stiffened as she heard the wall behind her speak. Her head whipped back and up. With the sun shining right into her eyes, she couldn’t see the face of her rescuer, but his voice was confidently calm, loud enough to carry to all of the men who had been reaching toward her without actually sounding as though he’d raised his voice. “Miss, are you okay?” It took Sarah a moment to realize the talking
wall was speaking to her.

  “Y-y-yes, thank you.” Sarah struggled to get the words out past a suddenly dry and scratchy throat.

  “That was quite a fall you took. Are you sure you are alright?”

  Glancing down at her dress, Sarah saw that, thankfully, she had landed on a dry patch of dirt and, though dusty, was not covered with mud or worse. She knew she would be sore later, but she was still in too much shock right now to feel the effects of her fall into the street. Thank goodness a horse or carriage had not been riding by at the time – she could have been badly hurt!

  “Yes, sir, thank you. I am fine and must be on my way now.”

  Sarah considered the path up Main Street toward her destination and saw what now appeared to be more than twenty men standing around ogling her. Completely beside herself with discomfort at the situation, she tried to take a step back only to be reminded of the talking wall behind her.

  Without removing her eyes from the crowd of men, she spoke to the one behind her. “Pardon me, sir, but could I be so bold as to request your assistance in a small matter?”

  There was a smile behind the man’s voice, Sarah was certain of it, as he softly answered, “I will accommodate you if I can, Miss. With what do you need assistance?”

  Sarah felt the hint of a shiver she knew could not be attributed to the weather. It was either fear because of the men in front of her… or something else because of the man behind her. Not wanting to dissect her feelings quite yet, she uttered, “I need to pass these men to get to the stage office. I find that…” Sarah tried to think of a delicate way to say she wasn’t sure if she’d make it there safely if she went alone.

  Before Sarah could even take a full breath, though, or find the correct words, she felt herself lifted by the waist and placed back up onto the boardwalk. The talking wall immediately joined her and offered his arm to her. Sarah tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, still not knowing the man’s name.