by Bree Wolf
Turning round, Grant fixed his mother with a pointed look. “You will fix this,” he told her harshly, for once not concerned with upsetting her. She had done enough, and he would see her wrongdoings rectified. “You will have a correction printed, and you will do it today.”
His mother’s lips thinned, and she lifted her chin in defiance. “Your cousin is correct.” She spat the word. “If you do not marry her, she will be ruined. Do you truly intend to do this to her? You are a perfect match. She is a duke’s daughter, and you the new Earl of Wentford. You need to provide an heir to carry on the family name and title. It is your duty to—”
“I do not care!” Grant snapped. “I do not care what you think is my duty. I will not marry her.”
Fury burned in his mother’s eyes as she stared at him. “How can you be so unreasonable? I—”
Before she could continue, a knock sounded on the door, closely followed by Jensen, their butler, who bowed formally and then said, “Lady Hartridge and Lady Elizabeth are here to see you.”
Pierce paled at the mention of the woman he loved, his eyes closing in agony as he took a step back.
Grant put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, offering comfort as much as he could. “Please show them inside.”
Jensen disappeared and returned shortly after with Lady Hartridge and Lady Elizabeth.
While Lady Elizabeth looked about as pale as Pierce did, her mother wore a self-satisfied smile upon her face that only began to falter when her eyes fell on Grant’s mother, taking note of the thunderous expression upon her face. “Good morning,” she greeted everyone, her gaze moving from his mother to him and then to Pierce. “I hope we have not arrived at an inconvenient moment.”
“In fact,” Grant addressed her, “I believe the moment is quite convenient indeed.” He pointed at the paper. “We have just made a very unsettling discovery. Do you have any knowledge of this?”
Lady Hartridge’s smile faltered for good. “How can you be upset?” Her gaze flitted to Grant’s mother, clearly hoping for assistance in this matter. “First Elizabeth, now you. Has the world gone mad?”
For a brief moment, Grant closed his eyes and sought to order his thoughts. “There is no time like the present,” he mumbled to himself and then straightened and looked around the room at the people assembled there. “I want to make something perfectly clear to all of you, most of all to you.” He looked at his mother and Lady Hartridge, standing side-by-side and exchanging slightly concerned looks. “While you are our mothers, you have no right to run our lives and decide for us. I will not accept your interference and it will end today. Am I understood?”
Grant did not wait for a reply, knowing that his mother would rather die than admit a fault or an error on her part. Instead, he turned to look at his cousin and Lady Elizabeth. “I apologize to you both for what happened as well as the agony you must’ve gone through.” He let his gaze move to Lady Elizabeth. “I think we are both in agreement about what we want, are we not?”
A deep sigh left her lips, and a smile came to her face. “We are. We are.” Relieved, she turned to look at Pierce, the smile upon her face widening.
In response, Pierce seemed to be ready to faint with joy. His eyes began to glow as the woman he loved looked at him in a way that clearly made his knees go weak. They stepped toward one another, their hands reaching out, then holding on.
Again, a knock sounded on the door, once again, followed by Jensen. “I apologize for the intrusion,” their butler mumbled respectfully. “However, there is a Miss Bottombrook here to see you.”
Grant’s heart leapt in his chest. “I will be there immediately.”
Jensen cleared his throat. “I apologize, my lord. However, Miss Bottombrook is here to see her ladyship.”
Grant’s feet pulled to a sudden halt as he stared at Jensen. That, he would not have expected. Perhaps though, he should have. After all, Nessa was like no one else he had ever met.
Chapter Sixteen – Miss Bottombrook Stands Her Ground
With sweaty palms and a no doubt dangerously increased heart rate, Agnes stood in the entrance hall of Grant’s imposing townhouse. Her gaze swept over the marble staircase as well as the wide arched doorways leading into multiple directions. She spotted servants hurrying to and fro, their footsteps light, almost imperceptible. It was a place unlike her own home, and it only served to remind her of the differences between them, of the obstacles standing in their path.
Still, Agnes would take this leap with him…if he still wanted her to.
“All will be well, my dear,” her father said softly beside her. His pale eyes held hers, and he offered her a nod of reassurance.
Agnes inhaled a deep breath and then turned around when footsteps came hurrying toward her. She spotted Grant, his face taut, his eyes yet luminous as they fell upon her.
Instantly, Agnes felt herself relax. He did not betray her, did he? This had not been his doing! She had not misjudged him!
A cacophony of voices followed on Grant’s heels. No doubt, multiple people were assembled in the drawing room, heatedly discussing…something. Agnes could not help but think that it pertained to Grant’s engagement.
Even the mere thought made her stomach turn.
“Nessa,” Grant exclaimed, rushing to her side and reaching for her hands. He offered her father a quick greeting before his eyes once more settled upon hers. “I take it you have seen…the paper?”
Agnes nodded, waiting for him to say something, to explain.
Grant's teeth gritted together and he muttered a silent curse. “I’m deeply sorry,” he told her ardently, “and I urge you to believe that I had nothing to do with this. My mother took it upon herself to publish this announcement, no doubt hoping it would sway me into proposing to Lady Elizabeth, which I have no intention of doing. Ever.” His gaze held hers, and she could see an almost desperate need in his eyes, the need for her to believe him for it seemed he was as shaken by this development as she was. “Do you believe me?” His voice was no more than a whisper, and Agnes could feel his hands tense upon hers, making her think that he truly feared she would walk away from him.
To Agnes’ utter surprise, she found herself beginning to feel…calm. All of a sudden, there was no doubt or fear or insecurity. She looked into Grant’s eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. Why she suddenly knew so, she did not know nor care. “I believe you.”
His shoulders slumped in relief and he pulled her against him, the deepest joy upon his face. “I admit, I was concerned you might not.” He gazed upon her longingly. “Do you truly?”
Agnes nodded, then willed a stern look into her eyes. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Never.” A deep smile came to his face, and then he suddenly surged forward and placed a kiss upon her lips. “I’m sorry, I could not help myself.”
Agnes felt herself turn red. However, casting a quick glance at her father, she saw that he was engrossed in a piece of artwork, his back turned. From experience, Agnes knew that he was in all likelihood merely pretending to be engrossed. But she was grateful.
“Truth be told,” she said, reminding herself why she had come, “I am here to speak to your mother. I believe it is time we met.”
The grin that stretched across Grant’s face was utterly endearing. It held pride and joy, and it warmed Agnes from the inside out. “You’ve come to meet the dragon? You’re braver than I thought.”
Agnes chuckled, feeling most of her apprehension slipping from her. “Do you truly call your mother that?”
“Not to her face.”
Nessa shook her head at him, still smiling. “Will you lead the way?” Accepting Grant’s arm, Agnes followed him across the foyer. Her father joined them, seemingly completely at ease as he leisurely strolled across the marble floors toward the drawing room.
Inside, Agnes found herself confronted not only by Grant’s mother, but also by Lady Elizabeth, a matronly lady she presumed to be Lady Elizabeth’s mother, Lady Hartr
idge, as well as another young man. He and Elizabeth stood close together, their hands linked, something utterly devoted in their eyes as they gazed upon one another, completely oblivious to the other people in the room.
“As you can see, you are not the only one brought here by today’s paper,” Grant told her, casting a sharp look at his mother, who stood at the other end of the room with Lady Hartridge. “My cousin, Pierce, was deeply upset, thinking that I’d betrayed him. Lady Elizabeth was equally taken aback to read of an engagement she had not given her consent to. Only our mothers seem to find some delight in this issue.”
Agnes could feel the dowager countess’ gaze upon her. It had narrowed significantly upon her entrance, her nose crinkling ever so slightly as though she smelled something rotten. Agnes knew instantly that the woman disliked her far more than she had anticipated. Still, she had come this far, she would not back down now.
Not with Grant by her side.
Escorting her across the room, Grant stopped in front of the two matrons. “Mother, Lady Hartridge, may I introduce Miss Agnes Bottombrook as well as her father, Mr. Bottombrook.”
Grant's mother looked Agnes up and down, a distasteful sneer coming to her lips. “It is a pleasure,” the dowager countess snarled.
Agnes lifted her chin. “Is it?” she asked bluntly. “I must admit, you do not look pleased at all.”
While an endearingly delighted smile spread over Grant’s face, the dowager countess looked as though she would choke any moment. “You—how…how ill-mannered of you to address me in such a way!” Her gaze snapped to her son. “Why would you bring such a person into my home, Wentford?”
Agnes turned and found Grant smiling down at her. “She is here, Mother, because I intend to marry her.”
The dowager countess’ jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious?”
“What about my daughter?” Lady Hartridge exclaimed, her cheeks suddenly aflame as she began to fan herself with her open palm.
“If I am not at all mistaken, Lady Hartridge,” Grant said in a rather condescending tone, “your daughter will most likely receive an offer of marriage before the day is out.”
Agnes glanced over her shoulder at the other couple in the room. Although they were a bit more tentative, hesitation lingering in their gazes, they, too, looked very much in love.
“Wentford! You cannot mean this!” His mother’s gaze snapped back and forth between the happy couple and her son, completely bypassing Agnes as though she were not even there. “You cannot let him marry her! He is nothing, and she is Duke Hartridge’s daughter. She is the perfect match for you.” She looked at Lady Hartridge, who seemed equally shocked and indignant. “After everything I’ve done, this is how you repay me? I found the perfect woman for you, and you—”
“Yes,” Grant interrupted, and Agnes could feel his hands tightening upon hers. “Yes, Mother, you did find the perfect woman, but not for me. For Pierce. I believe they shall be very happy.” Again, his gaze lowered to look upon her. “I, on the other hand, have found the perfect woman for me myself. I never truly expected to find her, but then suddenly there she was and I knew. I simply knew.”
Agnes sighed, hearing his wonderful words, spoken in such a devoted way and in front of his mother no less. He truly meant what he said, did he not? He truly loved her! A part of Agnes could still not believe it and, yet, she was willing to risk it. Because the truth was, she loved him as well, and it seemed a far greater risk not to accept his hand.
“Nessa,” Grant addressed her, holding her hands gently within his own. His eyes glowed, and Agnes could see that, in that moment, he saw nothing and no one but her. “Will you marry me?”
And here it was, the moment of truth. Never had Agnes expected to find herself faced with such a one. But perhaps, more than she had thought had changed in the course of a single week. She had changed as well. She was no longer Agnes, the old spinster who believed herself worthless, but still clung to who she was with everything she had, unwilling to bend to anyone else’s will.
No, Agnes was no longer.
Now, she was Nessa. Still an old spinster, but that did not matter because now she was in love. To be married. Soon, she would be a wife. She no longer cared that she was older than Grant. She no longer worried that he did not truly love her. She no longer wondered if she was making the right decision because she knew that she was.
Yes, that old part of her life would be over. Was already over. From now on, she would seize the day. She would be daring and dauntless. She would laugh and smile instead of worry and frown. She would reach for her own happily-ever-after and she would claim it no matter what.
Nessa returned Grant’s smile with a matching one of her own, one she felt to the very tips of her toes. “Yes, I will marry you.”
For a moment, Grant blinked as though he had not truly expected her to accept him. Then, however, he all but yanked her into his arms, a shout of joy leaving his lips before they claimed her own in a kiss that made the dowager countess rush indignantly from the room.
Nessa could not have cared less.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” came her father’s voice, joy and delight ringing within it. He stepped forward and embraced her, holding her tight as he had countless times before. “I’m so happy for you, my dear.” Then he turned to Grant. “Welcome to the family, my boy.”
A deep smile claimed Grant’s face. “Thank you very much, sir.”
“Maynard,” her father insisted, that endearingly mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Family has no need for formality.”
Grant nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. Nessa could not remember ever having seen him this happy which, of course, struck her as a bit of an odd statement considering that they had only known each other for a mere sennight. “I’m glad you see it that way, Maynard. Please call me Grant.”
Her father nodded, smiling at them both. “So, I suppose the seventeenth marriage proposal is the charm?” He grinned at them and then walked away, pretending to find something fascinating outside the window.
Nessa and Grant laughed both. “It would seem so.” Grant nodded in agreement, his eyes seeking hers. “Did I not tell you from the beginning that resistance on your part would be futile? That it would only strengthen my resolve?”
Nessa rolled her eyes at him. “How could I have possibly taken you seriously? You walked up to me out of nowhere and spoke of marriage. Anyone would’ve thought you mad. Be glad I did not have you committed.”
Laughing, Grant pulled her into his arms. “Never stop,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. It sent a shiver down her back and made her wonder what other delights they might find in each other’s arms. “Do you hear? Never ever stop.”
“Stop what? Teasing you? Vexing you? Baiting you?”
His arm settled more firmly around her. “All of the above,” he whispered before dipping his head and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips. “Always be you. Always speak to me with the same directness you have these past few days. Always.”
Nessa smiled. “If you insist, but know that I shall remind you of your request once you grow tired of it and begin to complain.”
“I’m certain I never shall.”
Nessa sighed. “What about your mother? She clearly does not like me nor want me as your wife.”
Grant nodded, the smile upon his face dimming a little. “I’m sorry for how she behaved. I know things will not be easy, but I will speak to her and make her see that it will be in all our interests to get along. We will find a way. I promise you.” Again, his fingers trailed along her jaw until they slipped into her hair, holding her to him. “I shall never let you go again. Never. You are mine as I am yours, and we belong together. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Nessa smiled up at him. “Only a fool would.”
Epilogue
Wentford Park, 1805 (or a variation thereof)
Less than a fortnight later
“Have I strayed into a dream?”
<
br /> “If you have,” Nessa replied in answer to her husband’s question, “then so have I.” Her gaze swept over the many guests in attendance today. Her wedding day. Their wedding day. She saw smiling faces and glowing eyes, heard laughter and cheerful voices of friends and family alike. She saw not only her father, tears in the corners of his eyes, but also her beloved cousin, a bright smile upon her face as she stood with her own husband upon the terrace of Wentford Park. Somewhere among the guests, she spotted Grant’s cousin, Pierce, now betrothed to Lady Elizabeth, their wedding planned for later this summer, a match meant to be just like their own.
Nessa breathed in deeply, savoring the moment, trying to hold on to this feeling of utter joy.
Not even the dowager countess’ sour face could taint her happiness. Yes, Grant’s mother had repeatedly tried to change her son’s mind, but to no avail. Ultimately, she had accepted defeat and, despite her declarations to the contrary, had attended their wedding.
Perhaps not all hope was lost. Perhaps it would simply take a little time for them all to come together as a family. Perhaps anything was possible.
Nessa liked to believe so, especially today.
The sun shone brightly, touching upon the vibrant green of the vines climbing the southern wall of the large estate. The brown sandstone seemed to sparkle in the sun, and flowers bloomed everywhere in every color imaginable. Bees added their own music to that of the orchestra situated on the other end of the terrace and, in the distance, Nessa could hear the soft gurgling of a nearby brook.
“Will you dance with me?” Grant asked, holding out his hand to her. “I shall never forget that first dance with you. Never. And I’m looking forward to many more.”
Nessa slipped her hand into his and followed him to the pavilion that had been set up in the center of the extensive lawn gently sloping down from the terrace. “Our first dance was less than a month ago, in case you have forgotten,” she teased him, unable to help that occasional feeling of disbelief that came over her whenever she recalled how little time had passed since that first day.