*~~*~~*
He was angry.
Grace could almost feel waves of it rolling from his body to hers, but held to her commitment. The one she’d made to herself as the door of the country house had closed behind them.
Their idyll had been just that—an idyll.
And it was nowover.
She hoped they could continue to be friends since she’d come to enjoy their occasional meetings. He was an attractive man with a sharp mind, the latter especially appealing to Grace, who had learned to value intellect every bit as much as charm and appearances.
But as far as becoming his mistress…well, she really wasn’t interested in that at all. Her life was quiet, well ordered, and—she confessed to herself—occasionally quite dull. But that didn’t mean she was about to run to the other end of the scale and become the possession of an affluent man.
Max and Kitty had already done that in their own unique way. She would not be so mundane as to follow in their footsteps.
It had been difficult, without a doubt. His brief kiss in the morning had surprised her with how familiar and natural it felt. And as she dressed, she chided herself for thinking it could be anything more than just a casual moment of weakness between them.
Well, several moments of weakness. Long moments.
That line of thought quickly took her down a path to a place she knew she did not belong—in Perry’s life. Nor he in hers. They were disparate people, on different levels of society and marriage would be out of the question.
She was the scarred widow of an insane husband.
He the elegant and influential definition of a London gentleman of theTon.
Grace knew all too well the value placed on such things when it came to a life in London Society. Perry might have been on the reclusive side of London life, but his range of acquaintances covered the town from St. James’s Palace to the Horse Guards to who knew where.
He wore his power and his knowledge discreetly, but they were there nevertheless. She had sensed them, heard glimmers in his conversations, and respected his brilliant mind and intricate thought processes. He would have been an asset to Whitehall during the Napoleonic war, and might well have done something in that capacity back in the early days, when Lord Nelson was heading to Egypt and those notorious battles.
There was no link, no commonality to be found between Sir Peregrine and shy, quiet, damaged Grace Chaney.
Nor could there ever be more than the few hours of pleasure they’d encountered in each other’s arms.
So it was with a calm exterior and a firmly clenched jaw that Grace dismounted from the carriage, takings Deery’s hand as he welcomed her back to Mowbray House.
Perry came around to bid her farewell.
“Thank you, Sir Peregrine. You have been everything that is kind and gracious. This will be an outing I shall long remember as one of the most pleasant interludes.” She dipped him a tiny curtsey, ignoring his frown as best she could. “May I wish you Happy Christmas?”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Of course, and I shall return those wishes. In person. Very soon.”
There were words she wanted to say, but knew she wouldn’t.Couldn’t. They were trapped in her throat by that lump of painful determination.
She had no other choice. She had to turn away, to leave him standing there, knowing he was watching her enter and then seeing the door close behind her.
As it did so, she had the strangest urge to burst into tears.
“Mrs. Chaney, welcome back. We were a little concerned, but since you were with Sir Peregrine, we assumed all would be well. Mr. Max and Mrs. Kitty left for Ridlington early this morning, once they saw the roads were clearing.” Deery’s voice was a familiar and comforting sound. “Would you care for a cup of tea or something to eat after your journey?”
She looked around, lost for a second or two. Then she shook her head. “Thank you Deery, but no. Could you have the horses put to? I must be on my way home now.” She sighed. “There’s nothing for me here anymore.”
Within half an hour, Grace was on the road to Seton Hall, staring from the carriage window but blind to the passing scenery. She was warmly tucked up in furs and muffler, but that was superficial at best.
Inside she felt cold and empty. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
