“Thank you,” she said with a sigh.
The moment was broken when Henry heard a commotion from behind, the footman reappearing with a basket of items and a frantic Moira.
“Oh, Grace!” Moira exclaimed, rushing forward in a swirl of skirt and petticoats to crouch beside her. “Are you all right my dear?” she inquired, concern lacing her voice. “Hudson said you had been taken ill.”Grace,Carrington thought. He had seen her name before on the note she sent, but hearing it for the first time, the name suited her.
“I’m alright,” Grace reassured her friend. “It’s just my head, as I have overtaxed myself.”
“You dear, sweet thing. You are still suffering from megrims then?” Moira asked before looking over at Henry. Shaking her head, she said, “Grace is the only lady I’ve ever met who has no need to feign megrims as an excuse. Sadly, hers are painfully real.”
Turning her attention back toward Grace, Moira grabbed the basket from the footman and began to procure bottles containing tea and water. Taking a glass of the water with a shaky hand, Lady Harcourt raised it to her lips and took a long draught. Henry was distracted thinking how full and pink her lips looked, even with her complexion still drawn with illness. He scowled, disgusted with his thoughts in this moment while the object of them was in a vulnerable position.
The footman handed Grace a napkin, as some of the water made its way down the front of her dress due to her unsteady hand. Looking up, she smiled and said, “It’s Hudson, is it not? I remember you assisted me with my luggage when I arrived. Thank you for once again taking care of me.”
With a goofy smile, he replied, “It’s my pleasure, my lady. It is my job to make sure you are comfortable, and I am happy to do so.” Watching in amusement, Henry believed Grace’s kindness had endeared her to the footman for life, and he would not be surprised if Hudson were a bit in love with her. Henry was sure the servant would be a shadow attending to her every need through the remainder of their time at Geffen House. Not that he could blame the young attendant, it was easy to fall under her spell.
“What else do you need, Grace?” Moira asked. “Do you need to rest? We can walk you back to the house and I’ll get one of the maids to sit with you and find some headache powders.”
Grace took another drink before passing the glass back to Hudson. “Yes, I think rest in a dark room is the only thing that will fix me at this point. Can you help me up?”
Before anyone else could claim the pleasure, Henry swiftly stood and offered his arm to her. When she grasped his hand, he felt a shock where their skin came into contact. Neither of them were wearing gloves due to the heat, and her skin was soft and warm. As Henry pulled her to her feet, she stumbled toward him with the force of her ascent, so he cupped her other elbow to steady her as she lifted her hand to cradle her aching head. Closing her eyes, she gently leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest, as if the effort to hold it up herself was too much.
“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” she said into his chest. “I fear the movement has caused my head to pound rather violently again. I need just a moment to resettle.”
Moira came over, placed her hand on Grace’s back, and moved it in slow, comforting circles. “Take all the time you need, dear. We will walk you up when you are ready,” she said quietly, so as not to further disturb her. After a few deep and steadying breaths, Grace lifted her head, pulling back from Henry, and he immediately missed the weight of her against him.
“May I take your arm?” she asked him, seeking support. Henry offered it to her without comment, and they began a slow trek across the lawn back toward the house. The second they left the shade of the oak, she uttered a gasp of pain and quickly raised her hand to shade her eyes, before tucking her face into Henry’s side, protecting her face from the glare. Without thinking, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the house. Striding forward as quickly as he dared, he did not want to move too fast and jostle her. He thrilled at the feeling of her burying her face in the crook of his neck. All he could think about in the few minutes he had held her was how comfortable it was, how perfectly she fit in his arms, and how it felt like she had always been meant to be in them.
CHAPTER8
“I hear you had quite the heroic moment earlier, Carrington. My maids were practically swooning with talk of the handsome duke who had rescued the damsel in distress and cradled her tenderly in his arms,” Fitz teased.
Sending a stony glare Fitz’s way while his other friends laughed, Henry grabbed a whiskey from the side table and sat down in an armchair with a large sigh. The men had just escaped the dance Moira had organized for the house party guests. He knew their departure would leave a shortage of gentleman for the ladies to partner with, and while he hated to upset Moira, Henry couldn’t pass up the chance for a bit of peace, so he snuck off to Fitz’s study with his friends in tow.
“Come now, Henry. We’re only having a little fun,” Reid said, reaching over and smacking him on the shoulder. “What really did happen?” he asked, his expression turned serious. “Is the lady well?”
“What I’m most interested in,” Fitz interjected with a twinkle in his eye, “is what you were doing walking alone with the very lady you were inquiring about just yesterday.”
“Oh, really?” Sidney piped up with a mischievous tone, leaning forward eagerly. “Do tell!”
Exasperated, Henry sighed in defeat. As much as he loved his friends, he knew they would not leave him alone unless he offered at least a few details. “It’s nothing, really. I ran into her the other night and she was upset. Not knowing who she was, I asked Fitz about her at breakfast before you two yahoos arrived,” he said, looking at Reid and Sidney. “She asked if she could talk with me today regarding a favor, and as we walked, the sun got to her and she developed a megrim. End of story.”
“No, not the end of the story,” Fitz replied. “You did not mention that she was upset when you saw her before. What’s going on?”
“It is not my place to share,” Henry responded firmly. “All you need to know is that she is a gentle and strong woman who has been dealt a raw deal in life, and I would very much like to help her if I can.” His tone brokered no argument, and he hoped to firmly shut down his friends’ line of inquiry.
“Fine,” Sidney grumbled, taking his hint. “We’ll leave you alone for now, but don’t think this is the end of this topic.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Henry, exasperated.
“Well, if nothing else, it did get you out of the luncheon,” Reid offered. “I must say, there were a few disappointed mamas lying in wait to foist their unmarried daughters at the new and available duke.” Reid’s tone was teasing, but Henry knew there was truth in his statement.
Groaning, he slumped down in his chair as his friends had the nerve to laugh at him. Avoiding said mothers and daughters had been one of the main reasons for absconding from the group now. Slinging back the rest of his drink, he sat up abruptly and looked at Reid. “Honestly, how have you put up with it all these years? It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve been out of mourning and I can’t get away from them. Every time I’m in a social situation I have to watch my back so a scheming social climber will not entrap me, and I find myself in a situation where I would be forced to marry the girl.” Grumbling, Henry added, “And I swear, the mothers are worse than the daughters.” His friends laughed at the sentiment.
“I feel your pain, my friend. I really do.” Reid stood and wandered toward the sidebar to pour himself another drink, the topic requiring it. Henry keenly understood his reaction and fought the impulse to do the same.
“I’ve learned to be cautious,” Reid offered, “but things have gotten easier over the years. I’ve resisted marriage for so long that many of the mothers have lost their steam and now leave me alone. You are still too new and shiny, I’m afraid . . . and a duke is the ultimate prize. I’m still the heir apparent and will be only an earl when all’s said and done.” Chuckling, he raised his glass toward Henry in a salute.
“My god, I’m glad I’m a second son,” Sidney offered. “While I still have those trying to make an honest man of me and force a match from one of my many conquests, there is not nearly the pressure the two of you face.” The last was said with a visible shudder. “For now, I can continue to enjoy myself.”
