She became aware that he was speaking, his voice stilted and husky. “Before we speak of anything else, Grace, I would like to apologise for leaving so abruptly.” She stared at him disorientated, her cup halfway to her mouth.
“It was unforgivable of me to leave you so soon after our wedding. Especially in light of the fact that you have little knowledge concerning the running of an establishment as large as this one, and with so few servants to help you.” He cleared his throat, mistaking her continued silence for censure.
“Both Mrs Tenner and Mrs Higgins have informed me of your efforts in that regard, and Huntley has also been extremely eager to sing your praises.” He paused again, only the tightening of his jaw giving any indication of how difficult he was finding his confession.
Grace simply stared at him open-mouthed.
“It’s my intention to employ more staff in the running of the house,” he went on, “including the hiring of a lady’s maid for you once we return from London.”
“London?” was all Grace could say weakly.
“It’s past time I purchased you a new wardrobe,” he answered softly. “One befitting your rank as a Duchess of the Realm. Although my manners have been singularly lacking in the time since we married, I am nevertheless fully aware of the necessity for you to present the correct image to the world, and the fact that you are failing to do so is entirely my fault.” He shook his head ruefully before continuing, “Please forgive me, wife, for casting aspersions on your current attire, but anyone of any breeding could be forgiven for thinking you a country maid who had just fallen off a hay bale.”
∞∞∞
Grace saw little of her husband prior to their journey to his townhouse in London. Indeed, she’d seen little of anyone. It had been easy to plead a desire for time to prepare herself for the delights the capital had to offer, and Nicholas was happy to indulge her, clearly thinking her simply a little nervous. However, with so much to do to prepare the estate for his second absence in as many months, he was content to let her be. There would be more than enough opportunity for them to spend time together once they arrived in London.
In truth. Grace was not nervous. She was terrified. While she was beyond grateful to the servants for not tittle-tattling on her, she lived in abject fear that someone else might enlighten her husband. The fact that her predicament was entirely her own fault did not help matters at all. Why oh why did she have to be so impulsive? Nicholas did not come to her bedchamber, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. If his nightmares were troubling him, he gave no indication, and for the moment, she was content to allow Malcolm to take care of him.
The only time she ventured from the house was for lunch with her family at the vicarage. It was the only opportunity she had to speak with her siblings. Before luncheon, she managed to take her older sisters aside and explain what had happened, but only Tempy seemed fully cognizant of the tightrope her sister was balancing on. The others seemed to regard the last month as simply a lark and were more interested in the possibility of Grace attending balls and soirées and the number of new dresses her husband would buy her. Their bird-witted attitude simply emphasised how foolish she’d been. During luncheon, her siblings argued over whether they would be permitted to visit their sister in London, and Agnes twittered on about Almack’s until Grace thoughtshe would scream.
Eventually, in desperation, she turned to her unusually silent father and expressed a wish to speak with him privately. After a few seconds plainly trying to come up with an excuse, the Reverend sighed and agreed to a private audience in his study. At the table, Agnes tittered knowingly behind her hand, clearly thinking there was some happy news on the way…
One look at his daughter’s face as they entered the study had the Reverend hurriedly reaching for the brandy decanter.
“What am I going to do father?” she wailed. “I thought if he banished me, I could have my own establishment.”
The Reverend spat out the mouthful of brandy and stared at her in horrified realisation. “You made a deuced cake of yourself deliberately? Of all the damned hare-brained ideas. And to think, I actually planned to kidnap you to save you from yourself.”
It was Grace’s turn to stare at her father. This time in horrified disbelief.
“Still,” the Reverend continued, regaining his cheerful optimism, “no harm done. You’ve clearly regained your wits, and we all do foolish things when we’re young.” He completely ignored the fact that his last foolish endeavour had been merely a few days before.
Her father’s confession actually did Grace a service. It made her realise that her only recourse was to rely on herself. Her main concern as she took her leave from her family was whether she had inherited her father’s tendency to be too ripe and ready by half. She feared her concern was well grounded given her tendency to launch herself without thinking into bacon-brained schemes with little or no forethought.
Chapter Eleven
Grace was still mulling over whether she had indeed inherited her father’s penchant for becoming embroiled in bird-witted capers as their carriage passed from Devonshire and on up into Wiltshire. Ordinarily, she would have been consumed with excitement, especially as she’d never been farther than the Port of Dartmouth up to now, but as seemed so often of late, she seemed to spend her mental consideration in trying to work out how to extract herself from hobbles of her own making.
She became aware that Nicholas was speaking to her.
“Are you feeling well?”
She blinked. “Of course. I’m fine.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t believe you.”
Her mouth pulled into a frown. “Why not?”
Nicholas nodded to the book in her lap. “You’ve yet to open your book.”
Grace looked down, her fingers tracing the leather cover, and Nicholas suddenly felt the urge to take the place of the book in her lap. “I’ve been distracted by the countryside. I’ve never been farther than Dartmouth before.”
While he believed her words, he still had this nagging feeling that something was bothering her. She was extremely pale. In fact, if he hadn’t known better, he would question whether shewas with child. But as they’d yet to consummate their marriage, it stood to reason her anxiety must pertain to something else.
He sighed and continued, “As you’re aware, Grace, I have been out of the country for a good few years, and consequently, my knowledge of English Society and its foibles is not perhaps what it might be.” His words were terse and clipped, and Grace could feel his distaste. “Ordinarily, I would not trouble myself. I have no interest in learning the latest on dits and have found most members of thetonto be vain and self-centred.” Grace watched silently as Nicholas dragged his hand over his face. “That said, whatever my private sentiments, you have married into one of England’s highest-ranking families, and it is therefore necessary for you to be presented as my Duchess and take your place in society.
“We have been invited to a charity ball being thrown on behalf of naval heroes.” His face twisted in a mirthless smile, and Grace felt her heart contract. “Apparently, it is to be the culmination of the London Season. I have received a particular entreaty that we attend from a good friend of mine, and my reluctant acquiescence is a favour to him and him only.”
