“Is there something in particular you need?” he asked. “If you want to redo some of the rooms after seeing them on your tour today, we can discuss a budget. I am more than happy to let you put your own touch on the place.”
“No, no, the house is lovely,” she said, flustered. “It might be prudent to make some updates in time, but nothing in the manor seems to be a pressing need at the moment. I suppose I’m trying to work my way up to telling you that I should like to update my wardrobe some, if you think it a wise investment.” At this she looked down again and felt her telltale blush starting.
“Grace, look at me,” he said, reaching across the table for her hand. “I don’t want you to ever feel that you cannot ask me for such things. I was remiss in not discussing financial matters with you and not sharing an allowance so you would not feel uneasy asking about such things.” She smiled as he continued. “The Dukedom of Carrington is comprised of three working estates, the London house in Mayfair, and a seaside home near Bath. The estates are well run, and I have invested in improvements in farming equipment, so we should soon see a return on investment with higher yields, assuming the weather holds.” A flash of lightning lit the room, and they grinned at one another as thunder cracked in the background.
“While I never want to spend outlandishly,” he continued, “and it seems neither of us want extravagant lives,” she nodded her unspoken agreement as he finished, “we don’t need to worry about spending on everyday expenses. And I know what you are going to say, but clothing is something that must be warn daily, so it is a necessity. I should have told you this sooner, and I apologize for not doing so, but I have arranged for a seamstress from a well-known modiste to visit the manor and take your measurements. She should arrive in the next day or two and start work on new dresses and gowns for you.”
Stunned, Grace hardly knew what to say. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. Whenever did you arrange such a thing?”
“I visited the modiste while I was in London preparing for the wedding, and I told the seamstress to spare no expense on a brand-new wardrobe. She will bring with her all the items for which measurements are not needed, such as gloves, stockings, and things—I don’t even know what. While she is here you can discuss your needs and she will ship items as she makes them.” He looked at her pointedly, waiting for her to protest.
Not one to disappoint, she couldn’t help but push back at the generosity. “Henry, it’s too much,” she said with a sigh. “Yes, I need some new clothing, but an entirely new wardrobe? Lucy and I can alter and fix what I already have if nice trimmings can be acquired.”
“Grace, when is the last time you had a new dress?” he asked her pointedly.
“I suppose about two and a half years ago. . .”
“And when was the last time you had a new evening gown?”
“Seven years ago . . . in preparation for my debut,” Grace said, blushing.
“Then do you not believe you deserve something new? Please let me take care of you as you deserve.”
Grace nodded, though a small part of her still wanted to protest. “Thank you, Henry. I truly am grateful. Please be patient with me. I’m still adjusting to having someone care about my wellbeing. It is a jarring, but welcome, change.”
Gazing at her with a soft look in his stunning gray eyes, he said, “I will give you as much time as you need, but I will also continue to give you what you deserve, so be prepared.”
CHAPTER26
It was the unusual sound of breaking glass the jolted Henry awake more than the crash of thunder which accompanied it. The startled shriek that emitted from the direction of Grace’s bedroom was what had him on his feet and rushing toward her before he was even fully cognizant, wrenching open the connecting door.
“Stop!” Grace cried out from her bed. “There is broken glass on the floor, you’ll cut your feet.”
Just then, a footman on night duty burst in from the hallway. “What’s wrong, Your Grace?” he spluttered, looking around the room, holding a candle aloft.
Assessing the situation from his place in the doorframe, Henry grasped what had happened. “Everyone stay where you are,” Henry ordered, eyeing a large tree branch that had crashed through the window as the storm intensified, more servants appearing as he spoke. “Grace, are you alright?” When she nodded her head, seeing there was no immediate emergency, he took charge. “Grace, don’t move from the bed, I’ll be right back for you.” Gesturing toward the footmen just inside the doorframe, he said, “You two, go and get something to clean up the glass and water and find something to board up the window.” He left to put on shoes and don his dressing gown before returning to the room.
Picking his way across the floor, he was relieved to see that the bed avoided much of the damage positioned as it was in the room. But with the window shattered and open to the elements, the room had grown cold, and rain was blowing in almost horizontally, soaking the quilt at the foot of the bed. Pulling the damp covers back, he flinched at the tinkling of glass as small shards fell to the floor. “Did any of the glass hit you?” he asked Grace as he examined her in the dim light of the mostly extinguished fire. Running his hands over her arms, he felt for cuts.
“I think a small piece cut my cheek,” she replied, raising a hand to her face, and wincing as she felt her cheekbone. Pushing her hair back so he could see the side of her face, he cursed under his breath when he saw a thin line of blood.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into his bedchamber. Setting her down on the bed, he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders before lighting a brace of candles.
“I’m well, really,” she tried to reassure him. “I don’t think I’m cut anywhere else and I’m hardly even damp.”
He ran his hand through her hair and cradled her face, guiding her chin up to the light so he could better assess the cut. “It doesn’t look deep, but we’ll need to clean it out. I’ll have Lucy grab you a new night rail and some antiseptic to clean the wound.” His heart was racing, and he took a moment for a deep breath to calm his nerves, as this was the first chance he’d had in the minutes since he first sprang from bed to slow down. Henry was always calm during a crisis, but no longer needing to manage the situation, the fear he had felt thinking something had happened to Grace was catching up with his body. His arms and hands felt fluttery, and he thought his knees might give out from beneath him.
“Henry, sit down,” Grace said, pulling his arm until he sank onto the bed beside her. “You’re trembling.”
Taking in another deep breath, he replied, “You are too. It’s the shock, it’ll pass in a moment.” Grace soothingly stroked his back as his breathing returned to normal. “You scared the life out of me,” he finally said. “I wasn’t sure if you were injured.”
“Only superficially,” she said reassuringly, “and I believe it was the tree that scared you, not I.” The last was said with a slight smirk.
“Semantics,” he grunted. “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“A little shaken,” she admitted, “but I promise I’m fine,” she added, smiling. She gently brushed his hair off his forehead and said, “At the moment I’m more worried about you. I’ve never seen you out of sorts. But I must say, the way you did not hesitate to take action was quite compelling.” She lowered her eyes and blushed. He started to feel warm and slightly aroused and was leaning in to kiss her before hearing a knock from across the room.
Clearing his throat while averting his eyes, Standish informed them, “The room has been cleared, Your Graces. We’ve covered the window and cleaned the room of glass. It might be best for the duchess to stay elsewhere until the window has been replaced, at least for tonight.”
