Grace laughed, attempting to keep the bitter edge off her tone. “No, they wish to have nothing to do with me.” Now squinting at the increasingly bright sun, she said, “The dowager countess, my mother-in-law, disliked me and poisoned much of the family against me. She passed as well, a few months before my husband did, but the damage had already been done.” She grew quiet for a moment thinking about her life in Yorkshire, and Carrington allowed her the space. “As I did not provide an heir,” she continued, “the earl’s cousin, who was no fan of mine, inherited everything.”
Grace was unsure just how honest to be with the duke, but considering all she revealed thus far, she decided there was nothing to lose. “The new earl’s wife wants me out of the house. And the earl has become increasingly attentive to me in a way that I am not comfortable with, so I would like to move on as quickly as possible,” she finished softly.
Now that Grace had let it all out, it felt like an emotional cleanse, and she exhaled with a full, shaky breath. However, the tension from recalling everything that had so drastically changed her circumstances over the past seven years made her head throb. She felt a sharp pain building behind her right eye from lack of sleep and from straining against the midday sunlight.
At her final admission that she may not be safe in her own home, the duke let out what almost sounded like a growl. “I am sorry to hear you have been treated so poorly,” he said after taking a moment to tamp down the anger rippling across his face. “Is there no way your cousin will agree to support you again, even temporarily, as your husband’s family will not?” he asked.
“I wrote to Edwin after my husband passed and asked if I might return to my childhood home,” Grace answered. “He responded that he was now married and that having me in the house would make his wife uncomfortable, that she would feel as if I were trying to assume her place in the home. He told me that it was now my in-laws’ place to take care of me, as I had married into their family. He no longer felt it was his responsibility to support me,” she said with downcast eyes, hurt remembering how her cousin had abandoned her.
“The truth is,” she said, feeling utterly defeated, “I have no place to go unless I can procure a position somewhere. That’s why it is so important for me to keep my reputation intact, so I might find a place more easily, and it’s why I have asked for your help with Thomas.”
She stumbled on the gravel pathway as a sharp pain lanced across her temple. Reaching out, she grabbed the duke’s arm for support.
“Are you alright?” he asked, grasping her arm. She briefly leaned toward him while righting herself and caught a whiff of a clean, bright scent. He smelled heavenly, and she felt a bit light-headed. Whether the sensation was from the megrim she feared she was developing or just his proximity, she could not say.
“Yes, I think the sun just may be getting to me a bit,” Grace deflected. “I really did not sleep well last night, anxious as I was. I promise I am fine. The fresh air is good for me,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Let’s keep walking toward the luncheon.”
The turn of his lips told her Carrington did not fully believe her, but he started walking again anyway, still supporting her arm. “So, to sum up your situation,” he said, “if I understand everything correctly, you are here in less-than-ideal circumstances because you feel it may be worth the risk to escape your relations and secure a position.”
As they exited the formal garden, Grace’s head began to feel slow when she moved it, like it was filled with sand. She tried to concentrate on their surroundings to maintain her focus so she could respond to what he was saying, but was distracted by the place where his hand was supporting her and she felt tingly and warm.
“I understand your desire to secure something quickly, but why not wait to finish the proper length of mourning and thus lower your risk?” Carrington asked.
“I understand why you might feel that way,” she said slowly, trying to keep a grasp on the thread of the conversation, her head feeling heavier by the minute, “but I’m not sure I can survive in my current situation with Camden that long.” He went quiet as the gravity of her statement settled in.
Grace sighed, weariness washing over her. “I am not well-known in polite society, as I never officially made my come-out, and once married I spent all my time in Yorkshire. My good reputation is all I have to recommend me. With my abbreviated mourning period, the potential blow to my reputation is deeply concerning to me,” Grace explained. “With nothing else to know about me, thetonwill surely not be able to overlook my supposed sins should Thomas continue to boast.”
Spilling her deepest fears so freely made Grace want to cry. She was trying valiantly to maintain her dignity in front of the duke, but feared she may not succeed. She was afraid now that he could see just how low she had fallen, he would never look at her with anything other than pity, and possibly contempt, again.
Swallowing her fear, Grace tilted her head up to look directly into Carrington’s eyes. The movement emphasized the growing tension in her neck that pulled down into her shoulders, and her head throbbed as the bright sunlight lit him from behind, making him glow like a heavenly messenger.Lord, he truly was handsomeGrace thought before the world around her began to swim.
CHAPTER7
Henry grabbed hold of Lady Harcourt as she started to sway, gathering her against his chest. His heart pounded as he readjusted her in his arms so he wouldn’t drop her. “Lady Harcourt? Can you hear me, are you hurt anywhere?” he asked as calmly as he could, trying not to panic. Her eyes fluttered open a moment later.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured with her head tucked against his chest. “A headache’s come over me quite quickly, and I fear it now has me firmly in its grip.” She clutched the fabric of his coat, bunching it in her fists to keep herself upright. He quickly maneuvered Lady Harcourt to his side so he could assist her in walking. They were almost at a large, old oak tree that stood only a few yards away. Henry guided her to the base of the tree and gently assisted her down so she could rest in the shade. Crouching to take stock of the situation, he was alarmed to see her face had turned as white as freshly laundered linens.
“What do you need?” he asked, keeping his voice low to not cause further distress. “Should I take you back to the main house?”
“No,” she replied with closed eyes and a pinched brow. He noticed how beautiful she was even while obviously in pain. Briefly opening her eyes, she explained, “I believe the stress of everything compounded with little sleep and the bright, hot sun has simply overtaxed me.” Closing her eyes again, she continued after a moment, “I just need to rest here for a few minutes, and then I will make my way to my room to rest more fully. Please make my excuses to Moira when you see her at the luncheon,” she finished, still striving for politeness in her suffering.
“I will not leave you,” he practically growled out, feeling protective and having no desire to leave her in anyone else’s care. Just then, he noticed a footman ambling down a nearby path toward the stream, his arms were full of items that were undoubtably intended for the luncheon. “You there,” Carrington called out toward the servant, “come over here, we need help.” The footman jumped at the unexpected summons but quickly responded to Henry’s commanding tone, making his way over to where they were huddled beneath the oak.
“How may I be of service, my lord?” the young man asked, rounding the tree. “Is she ill?” he asked upon seeing Lady Harcourt propped against the trunk. His eyes bulged in surprise.
“I need you to run down to where the luncheon is being set up and bring me back something cold to drink as well as some strong tea,” Henry snapped, as if he were back in the army issuing commands. “Something bland and easy to eat as well—and be quick about it.”
Lady Harcourt seemed to blanch when he mentioned food. Reopening her eyes and looking at the footman, she said, “Please, no food. Just the thought makes me feel nauseated and I don’t think I could handle the scent,” she said with a shudder. “But the tea and some cool water would be greatly appreciated.” She attempted a wan smile, then leaned her head back against the bark and placed a hand over her closed eyes to block the sunlight.
“Of course. I will be back straightaway my lady,” the footman said with a bow before scrambling off to secure the requested items.
Still crouching, Henry shifted to sit beside her on the ground. She unconsciously moved toward him, and he could feel the warmth of her arm radiating through his sleeve as she leaned into his side for support.
“I am so sorry, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “I am absolutely mortified.” Swallowing quite forcefully, as if trying to keep both tears and emotions back, she tried to thank him. “You have been so kind to me. First rescuing me the other night, and then assisting me today. It’s my own fault I’m ill, what with my own fears and bad decisions,” she said with a weak voice. “I am absolutely mortified that you should see me in such a state . . . and have had to listen to my misfortunes as well. I really am trying to take care of myself, but somehow, I have unburdened all of my problems onto you and made myself a nuisance.”
“You have done no such thing,” he responded immediately. “I asked how I might be able to help you, and I’m honored that you trusted me with your confidences.” He really was flattered that she had chosen to place such trust in him. He had the feeling as she was sharing her background with him that it was not something she spoke of often. He genuinely wanted to find a way to make things just a bit easier for her, and talking with Thomas was an easy place to begin, though it did not feel like nearly enough, given her reduced circumstances and lack of familial support.
Looking at her as she leaned against him, he felt a warmth start in his chest and wanted to reassure her that she was not alone. “I am only sorry that the world has treated you so ill,” he said softly, “you do not deserve it. If I can help in any way, I will.” He paused before adding, “Please know that I will never share anything you have told me today. I’m glad you felt you could tell me, and I will honor your trust.” His heart ached when she rested her head against his shoulder. Even with visible strain marring her features, she was beauty personified.
