“Then your decision should be swift. If that is all you desire, then you ought to answer me now, before my father dies and I lose that which you desire.”
Grace’s breath shook on the way out, and she stopped the words she meant to say. Edward could be a fisherman and she would still love him.
Anger rose inside her at his assumptions of her character. She was not a fortune hunter; she was an advocate of love in a marriage, and that was why she feared marrying him. She could not decipher what was truth and what were lies. She was surrounded by an abundance of both.
“When may I expect your decision?” he grumbled.
Grace’s mind raced with fear and hesitation. “In three days,” she blurted.
“Three days?”
“Yes.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “You do enjoy torturing me.”
She scowled. “No.”
“Do not deny it.” His words were slower and he walked toward her, filling the space between them.
Grace stepped back fast, clattering directly against the wooden door. She had forgotten how trapped she was. Her heart pounded as Edward stepped closer, tipping his head down.
She searched for her strength, but it was gone, stolen by the look in his eyes as he stared down at her, by the touch of his hands as they wrapped around her upper arms. “I would like to offer you one more thing to consider,” he said.
She swallowed, looking away from his eyes. Her voice came more quickly than she intended. “I do not think that is necessary, actually, because I have all the information I require, and—”
Her words were stopped by Edward’s lips as they captured hers, his kiss deliberate and slow as he took her face between his hands. She had scarcely recovered from the shock before Edward pulled back for air, his nose pressed against her cheek.
Before she could stop them, her hands clutched the collar of his shirt, pulling his lips back to hers, first reluctant, then eager, kissing him until she couldn’t breathe. He pressed her back against the door, his kiss growing deeper, firmer, more determined. He kissed her as if he would never kiss her again, a notion which Grace was now strongly opposed to.
Edward pulled away, as if by great effort, tracing his thumb over her cheek. She stared up at him in shock.
His eyes grew heavy as they roamed her face. “I hope you will consider that when making your decision.”
He took her hand in his, bringing her fingertips to his lips one last time before stepping away.
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, her lips tingling from Edward’s kiss.
“We ought not to return to the ballroom together,” he said as he backed into the dark hallway. “We will raise suspicion.”
Grace nodded, unable to speak.
He smiled as he turned around, retreating into the hall without another word. He simply walked away, leaving Grace to sort through the torrent of emotions within her.
She brought her hand to her lips, leaning back against the wooden door. Her legs shook as she struggled to make sense of her racing thoughts. Among them, one thing was certain. That kiss had given her much to consider.
Chapter 17
Edward had not seen Grace return to the ballroom all evening. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weston usher their eldest daughter into the hall in search of her. Eventually he had seen the sweep of Grace’s pastel yellow skirts as they passed the doorway, along with her family, in departure.
He spent the rest of the evening with his thoughts far from the party, but rather on how perfectly Grace had felt in his arms, how it had felt to kiss her. The warmth and softness of her lips would not desert his mind, the intensity of emotion her kiss had awakened within him. He had never experienced a kiss that affected him so greatly. He had been completely undone by her.
How could he wait the three days she required to make her decision? He didn’t want a single day to pass without seeing her. He wanted to find her again tomorrow, gather her up in his arms, and kiss her all over again, whether she planned to marry him or not.
On the ride home from Pengrave, Henry remained silent, apparently sensing Edward’s deep contemplation. When they arrived at Clemsworth, their butler greeted them solemnly.
Henry stepped through the door first, removing his hat as the butler spoke in a hushed voice. “Lord Coventry requests your immediate presence,” he said. The urgency in his tone sent a heavy stone of worry to settle in Edward’s stomach.
He exchanged a look with Henry as they walked quickly toward their father’s bedchamber. Edward stopped in the doorway first, his heart dropping as he saw his father, with his mother at his side, looking more grave than he had ever appeared before.
Edward stepped into the room, stopping at the foot of his father’s bed.
“All my affairs are nearly complete,” his father rasped. “But I thought it prudent to bid my two sons farewell. I will not live to see the sun rise.”
Edward swallowed hard against the strange grief that gripped him.
His father’s eyes found his. “Before it is too late I must confess something to both of you, especially Edward.” His breath rattled. “I am pleased to have seen a change in you, Edward, witnessed by your mother on my behalf. Such changes I believed would require drastic measures to attain.” His voice was slow and clipped, difficult to understand. “I did attempt to have my title and the estate of Clemsworth transferred to Henry, but the law would not allow it. After that, I chose a different plan. From the beginning, I confess, this disinheritance has been impossible.”
Edward could not stop his jaw from dropping. Disbelief pounded in his skull. “You mean to say you tricked me?”
“Your mother desired that you marry, and I knew nothing short of a disinheritance could motivate you to such an endeavor. At my passing you will still assume my title and all properties aside from the estate promised to Henry in Worthing.”
Edward laughed in disbelief. “How can this be true?”
He glanced at his mother to affirm the words his father had spoken. She stared at her husband in surprise, apparently oblivious to his scheme.
“Do you realize the torture you have forced me to endure? The heartache and desperation?” Anger rose in Edward’s chest.
“And it has left you a changed man,” his father said. “A more determined and focused one, I daresay. One who has found a purpose once more, who will run this estate and care well for my wife and daughter, and even a wife and children of his own.” He paused to cough, the movement wracking his frail body.
Edward’s mind spun. He thought of the days he had spent in desperate pursuit of a marriage with Grace. Still, he could not view the time as wasted. With his father’s revelation, Edward examined his heart. He found that he still loved Grace, and he still wished to marry her. There was no question, no doubt. In a strange way, he was grateful his father had lied to him. If not, he would have never come to know Grace as he did.
“Thank you, father,” Edward said, surprised by his own choice of words.
His father smiled, just a brief upturning of his mouth. A rare sight, the last smile Edward would ever see on his father’s face.
Edward, Henry, and their mother waited in Lord Coventry’s room until he died, a few short hours later. Juliet had already given her farewell and had been sent to bed, too young to witness death. In the early hours of the morning, Edward finally made his way to his bedchamber, dazed and too tired to think clearly. His father’s death had struck him more deeply than he had expected.
As exhausted as he was, he found it difficult to sleep. His heart stung with grief, battling with the relief he felt at his father’s trickery. Edward would keep his inheritance.
He had always thought it strange that his father had surpassed the laws of primogeniture. He should have realized it was nothing but a lie. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, processing the last several hours and all that had occurred, trying to understand the grief in his heart.
The next several days would be filled with burial preparat
ions and mourning. He prepared himself for the gloom that awaited him—including the prospect that Grace’s answer would come as another rejection.
But now he had the wealth she sought, the title, the property, all with certainty. Surely that was enough for her to accept him.
His heart ached as he finally drifted into a restless sleep.
Chapter 18
The death of Lord Coventry came as little of a shock to the people of Brighton. All except for Grace.
When she had received the news three days before, she had spent much of the day in her bedchamber with guilt writhing in her stomach. Edward had not become engaged. That meant he would lose his inheritance, all because Grace had been too stubborn—too afraid. She wondered why she had not heard the gossip of his disinheritance. But of course, she had not ventured outside of the house in days.
Today, she lay on her bed with a book opened in front of her. Every time she attempted to read, the words spun off the page, becoming lost in the array of more important thoughts that begged for attention. She owed Edward her answer today. Her three days were spent. But since his father’s death, he was no longer required to marry. Would he rescind his proposal? Surely he would. How could he even look upon her after she had caused him to lose his title and fortune?
The moment she had left the ball three nights before, she had made her decision.
She would marry him.
She would dare to trust him, a risk she hadn’t been willing to take until that night. She had planned to tell him the next day, but his father had already died.
He would never have her now.
Harriett’s voice came from the doorway, gentle and quiet. “Grace.”
Her eyes lifted.
Harriett stood halfway in the room and half out, a smile on her lips. “There is someone here to see you.”
Grace’s heart leapt. She studied Harriett’s face, searching for a clue of who it might be. Could it be Edward? The very idea set her hands shaking, the memory of their kiss still burning in her mind.
“Uncle Cornelius,” Harriett said. “He wishes to speak with you.”
Disappointment and relief dropped through her at once. Grace dragged herself to her feet, fixing the tie at her waist before venturing out the door. The air in the second floor hallway was clear and crisp, unlike the stuffy, hot air of her bedchamber. She descended the stairs, forcing a smile when she saw her uncle at the base, grinning as he always did.
When she reached him, her uncle gripped her fingers in his gloved hand. “Do not be angry with Harriett, but she has told me in great detail of your plight.”
Grace shifted her gaze to her sister, who looked away guiltily.
“Uncle Cornelius can always be trusted,” Harriett said. “You know this.”
Her uncle cleared his throat, a pleased smile on his lips. “It does not require much intelligence at all to see that Lord Ramsbury is in love with you. At my dinner party he could scarcely keep his eyes away from you.” Uncle Cornelius chuckled, leaning on his cane, one he carried strictly for fashionable purposes. “It doesn’t matter that he has lost his inheritance. If he was in love with you before, he will be in love with you still. Love’s not Time’s fool,” he said, quoting the very passage Edward had meant to share with her the day of his second proposal.
Grace smiled, her throat tight with emotion. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out, even to the edge of doom,” she added in a soft voice. “Do you truly believe it?”
Her uncle nodded. “I loved my wife from the day I met her until the day she passed on.” His eyes twinkled with something bright, hopeful, and lasting. Love.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Find him, tell him you still wish to marry him. Your three days are nearly spent, are they not?”
Grace turned to Harriett, raising one eyebrow. “It seems you did tell him every detail.”
She bit her lip. “I suppose I did.”
Releasing a heavy breath, Grace rubbed her hands on her skirts, terror rising up her spine. “Perhaps… perhaps I may wait until tomorrow. This is a very difficult time for his family, and he will not wish to be interrupted. There are funeral services to be planned.”
“Even more the reason for you to go today,” her uncle said. “Give him a reason to smile, my dear.”
She stared at the floor, her heart racing. “I cannot simply arrive on the front step of Clemsworth alone, intruding on their family during such a delicate time.”
“Where else do you expect to find him?” Uncle Cornelius asked. “But if it will ease your fear, I will send your Aunt Christine to accompany you by coach.”
Grace puzzled over the idea before slumping against the banister in a most unladylike fashion. “I am being absurd. I cannot go. He will never want me after I have caused him to lose so much. How could he?”
Her uncle’s gentle demeanor shifted to one of severity, a look she had never seen cross his normally exuberant and smiling face. “You must go! Harriett and I will accompany you there if we must, won’t we, Harriett?”
She nodded, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.
Grace struggled to breathe as she looked out the window, the distant sea visible under the morning sun. “Aunt Christine will suffice,” she muttered.
Uncle Cornelius did not conceal his glee as he placed his hat atop his head. “I will fetch her now and return shortly.” He disappeared through the door.
As promised, he arrived within minutes with a disgruntled Aunt Christine at his side. She fanned her face from the exertion of the swift walk. “If I am called upon to chaperone again I will be forced to take up a cane,” she huffed.
Harriett squeezed Grace’s arm, the last bit of encouragement she needed before her uncle ushered her into his coach, the one that had conveyed him here, and sent the coachman in the direction of Clemsworth. Grace’s insides twisted with fear as they traveled, her gaze fixed out the window. What would she say to Edward? She practiced her words in her mind, but none of them seemed right, none eloquent enough to convey the message she intended to speak.
How inappropriate it would be to drop herself on the doorstep of Clemsworth, the estate she had caused Edward to never be allowed to call his own. Even with her aunt in tow it would be extremely rude to impose on the family during their grief.
Short minutes later, the coach stopped on the drive in front of Clemsworth. Grace stayed in her seat, trying to calm her breathing. Edward was expecting her today, she reminded herself. She had promised that she would tell him her decision. He wouldn’t be surprised to see her, would he?
Aunt Christine crossed her arms over her ample chest, raising both brows into her cap. “Why are you delaying? I am not keen to stay in a hot coach all day. I am positively roasting,” she said, withdrawing her fan again.
“I need just a moment to—” Grace looked out the window, shocked to see Edward walking across the neat lawn, straight toward her coach. Her heart jumped in her chest like a startled cat.
Aunt Christine slumped against her cushion, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back. “I will be here until you are finished. Mind your reputation, dear.”
Grace hardly comprehended her aunt’s suggestion. The coachman opened the door, offering his hand to let Grace out. Already she felt her face burning with shame. The beauty of Clemsworth had never struck her as much as it did now. It was as if the beautiful stone, immaculate gardens, and clear windows whispered to Grace of her cruelty for causing Edward to lose them.
When her feet touched the grass, she looked up. Edward had stopped in front of her, his expression surprising. She did not see hatred or malice, but only apprehension. He was dressed in mourning, the black a sharp contrast to his blue eyes.
She lowered her head in a bow of greeting, willing her cheeks to cool. What could she say to him? Nothing would be enough.
“I have been waiting for you to arrive,” he said, drawing an audible breath. “Shall we take a walk around the gardens
?”
Grace lifted her gaze, her brow contracting. Why did he wish to walk with her? On her way to Clemsworth she had prepared herself for the possibility that he would throw her off the property in anger. His eyes grew softer, more calm as he took her hand, guiding it to his elbow.
She gathered her composure, glancing up at him as they walked over the grounds toward the back property. She felt safe beside him, an overwhelming sense of belonging. She did not feel that he housed any anger toward her at all.
When they passed the back corner of the house, the gardens bloomed straight ahead, colorful and bright, giving her the courage to speak.
“I—I express my sincere condolences for your loss,” she said, her voice weak and full of shame. The loss she spoke of implied more than his father’s death. “How difficult it must be to lose your father and your living.” She choked on a surge of guilt. How could she tell him now that she wished to marry him, when she could have told him before and prevented his second great loss? She couldn’t do it.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
She pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. “It is my fault,” she whispered. “My indecision has brought this fate upon you.” She shook her head. “I cannot expect you to forgive me, and I cannot expect that your offer is still available to me… ”
Without warning, he stopped walking as they passed a large hedge. His eyes stared into hers, careful, unyielding. “You would consider marrying me even without my inheritance?”
She inhaled deeply, seeking reassurance in his eyes. She realized with surprise that his offer still stood, visible in every line of his face, in the admiration and hope that burned there. “Yes,” she breathed. Sudden tears stung her eyes. “I love you, Edward. And I am sorry, so very sorry. You have lost so much because of me.” She dropped her hand from his arm, covering her face. “I have torn this beautiful home from you because of my indecision and stubbornness.” She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “Where will we live?”
Romancing Lord Ramsbury Page 18