The fluttering wings in Grace’s middle churned harder, threatening to expel her supper. She drew in a deep breath and scolded herself for such silly behavior. It was probably a written apology from the duke—no more, no less. “Do bring it in, Mrs. Flackney,” she told the kindly matron who had minded their household for ages. “I am still awake, but I fear Gastric has me pinned.”
The housekeeper hurried into the room, handed her the note, then nodded and left just as quickly as she had entered, softly closing the door behind her.
Grace unfolded the small slip of paper that appeared to have been torn from the corner of something else. It was written in graphite, smudged, and the script was messy, as if done in haste. As Grace made out the words, an ominous chill touched her to the bone.
“Gracie? You have gone dangerously pale. What does it say?” With Gastric much calmer and no longer a threat, Serendipityscooted in beside Grace and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Joy, Merry, and Felicity drew in close as well.
“He belongs to another and will only be the ruination of you and your family,” Grace whispered before choking on the malice behind the words. She clutched a fist to her chest, coughing and wheezing to draw in air.
Joy rushed to the bellpull, yanked it hard, then hurried to the door. “I can’t wait till they come up. I’ll be back with Mrs. Flackney shortly. She can tell us who sent that threat.”
Grace nodded and waved her on, then crumpled and gave in to something she rarely did—tears.
Chapter Eight
Clad in anannoying walking dress that snagged on every bramble and blade of grass, Grace plodded along the old fence line that kept the cows from straying into the crops and grazing them down to nothing but stubble. Gastric stayed beside her while her other hounds trotted up ahead, noses to the ground, snuffling for something exciting to chase. As she meandered along, she snapped off the tops of the tallest grasses and imagined shoving them up Lady Longmorten’s nose—the author of the odious threat to stain not only Grace’s standing amongst thetonbut her sisters’ reputations as well. For if one Abarough sister fell, they all fell. Even Chance would be somewhat marked by any gossip about his sisters.
The sad thing was, nothing the horrendous woman had said in her hastily scribbled note was untrue.
“And there’s the rub, Gastric,” Grace informed the sweet dog hopping alongside her.
His only response was a happywoof.
Oh, to be a carefree canine.She looked to the south, wondering what the unhappy Duke of Wolfebourne was doing at this very moment. For he was unhappy with his life. Pure melancholy shouted from him. Such a shame. When he smiled, his charm and strong good looks became almost overpowering. She hitched in a deep breath and walked faster.If only…
The steady thud of hoofbeats at a hard gallop made her turn and shield her eyes from the sun. It was Jasper. On her horse.Something must be terribly wrong. “Come to me, lads!” she called to the dogs, then caught up her skirts and ran to meet the groom.
Jasper halted Pegasus and leapt from the saddle. “His Grace wants you back at the house, my lady.”
“What is wrong? What has happened?”
The lad shook his head. “All in the household are well so far as I know, but His Grace said to fetch you back quick as a minute.”
Irritated beyond belief, Grace yanked at her skirts. “Dressed as I am, I can’t ride. Since this appears to be one of my brother’s whims, I shall return at my own pace.” She kissed her horse’s nose. “We shall ride later, Pegasus. I promise.” With a nod at Jasper, she stepped aside. “Inform His Grace I will get there when I get there.”
Ducking his head, the young man struggled not to smile. “Yes, my lady. Shall I keep Pegasus ready for your ride?”
“No, since I am unsure as to what His Grace wants.”
“Yes, my lady.” Jasper retook the saddle and turned the horse toward home, glancing back once to ensure she followed.
She snorted a bitter laugh. The groom knew her too well.
“Come along, my boys,” she told the dogs. “We have been summoned.” She set off at a purposeful but not strenuous pace. While she normally took great pleasure in annoying Chance, struggling with the complications that had come with the Duke of Wolfebourne had wearied her into a shocking state of compliance, and she was at a loss as to what to do about it. She supposed all she could do was put the man out of her mind, but that was much easier said than done.
“I am better than this,” she told Gastric as he swaggered along beside her, his long ears swinging in time with every step. “When have you ever known me to be this silly over aman—a quarrelsome, judgmental, opinionated, and completely unavailable man? This is utterly ridiculous, Gastric.”
Gastric sneezed several times and pawed at his muzzle.
“Hold fast, old friend. We are nearly out of the tallest grass. I know how it tickles your nose.” As she looked up from her devoted companion, she caught sight of a carriage bearing the all-too-familiar ducal seal of a pair of wolves with their noses lifted in what appeared to be a long, mournful howl. It was parked in the circular drive in front of the manor house.
“Oh, Gastric.” She allowed herself a groan. “What does he want now?” Or worse yet, maybe it was Lady Margaret or Lady Longmorten—or both. They would surely have use of the duke’s carriage. After all, not only were they guests at Wolfebourne Lodge but also very nearly attached to the duke by marriage. “Come, my lads.” She signaled the dogs to tighten their ranks and follow as she changed course and headed for the servant’s entrance into the kitchens. She refused to enter the house without knowing what awaited her. Forewarned was forearmed.
The scullery maids looked up as she and her dogs entered. Busy preparing vegetables for the evening meal, they curtsied where they stood beside the worktable. The one on the end nearest to the ovens said, “Welcome, my lady. Cook! Lady Grace and her pups be here.”
A stout, older woman with silvery-white hair that always did its best to escape the confines of her ruffled cap toddled out of the pantry, hugging a large crock in each arm. “The lads done had their soupbones, my lady, and Lucy and her pups done had their milk-soaked bread. Mr. Carson took it out to them some time ago.”
“Thank you, Cook, but that is not why I am here. You always feed my precious ones well.” Grace directed her dogs to take to their blankets along the wall beside the pantry, then edged over to the doorway that led to the dining room. She pushed it openthe barest crack and peeped out. “What do you know about our guests?” she asked in a loud whisper.
