‘Do not vex yourself. I am leaving.’
Rawden took one more look at Caville, bloodied and gasping. As he left, he caught the whore’s eye. She glanced at Caville’s bloodied face, and then a smile bloomed, and she winked at Rawden. It seemed he was not the only one who thought Caville had it coming.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grace pushed her food around her plate, squirming under the tense atmosphere at the breakfast table. Harriet would not look her in the eye, and she avoided Gilbert’s gaze altogether as it had a venomous quality.
Yesterday’s walk had not been pleasant, for Grace was painfully aware that Harriet was angry with her, even though she hid it well, talking politely now and then through gritted teeth. Grace and Harriet had exchanged awkward pleasantries for some time, with no real, meaningful conversation, until Harriet had pressed her again on her reason for fleeing Rawden. Grace could not bring herself to tell Harriet about Romola Bianchi, for it shamed her so much. It seemed she was destined to bear the dishonour of men’s bad behaviour as though it were her fault and not theirs.
Harriet had been keen to know the nature of her conversation with Caville, but Grace could hardly own to it. ‘Just the usual pleasantries, but as I said, his manner is a little forward for my liking,’ she said.
‘Oh, that is because he is not proud and haughty, as he should be, given he is the son of a viscount. He has an easy, affable manner and often visits, for he and Gilbert are firm friends. He plays rummy with me and always lets me win. I find that so very charming.’
How naïve her friend was not to see the beast slithering behind Caville’s striking good looks. ‘I am sorry if I have given offence, Harriet,’ said Grace.
‘Not at all. You have always been very forthcoming with your opinions. I should be used to your plain way of speaking by now,’ replied Harriet. She gave Grace a sweet smile, but there was a barb pricking her words.
They had returned from the walk in the late afternoon to a glaring Gilbert, who had maintained an icy silence to both his wife and Grace, before leaving the house for his gentleman’s club. So, mercifully, they had been spared his presence all evening.
Harriet seemed unperturbed by this series of events, as though it were normal for Gilbert to take himself off whenever it suited him. She had spent the remainder of the day chatting happily about mundane household matters, reminiscing about school days, and passing on gossip about acquaintances. Harriet betrayed no sign of discomfort or unhappiness with her husband.
And yet, Grace was uneasy for her friend. In the dead of night, she had heard raised voices – a man shouting and then came sobbing, which sounded like a woman’s. When she had asked Harriet about it, she had simply remarked, ‘Oh, the servants are always squabbling. I must tell the butler to have a word with them. I stay out of such matters as much as I can and leave the running of the household to him.’
Harriet nibbled daintily on a piece of buttered toast as if she had no care in the world. She was so perfectly beautiful and poised – the very picture of what a lady should be. But if she did not run her household, what on earth did she do all day? Grace had a sneaking suspicion that Harriet’s married life consisted of waiting for her husband to come home and then entertaining his whims. Was her friend just a pretty ornament of a wife, an empty vessel for people to look at and admire? Perhaps she should not have judged her own marriage so harshly. Maybe this bland co-existence of man and wife was the way of it for those who married for convenience, not love. Or was she just a fool to expect affection and respect from a husband?
‘So, do you have any plans to avoid our guests this morning, Harriet?’ said Gilbert, with some rancour.
Harriet stared down at her plate. ‘No, my dear. I will be at home all day.’
‘Both of you?’ snarled Gilbert, flicking Grace a resentful look.
‘Yes, dearest. And I am sorry we could not entertain your friend, Caville when he called.’
‘Indeed, Caville was most disappointed that you chose to promenade over his company as he so enjoys his visits here.’ He shot a look of irritation at Grace. ‘Perhaps you need more instruction as to a wife’s duties to her husband, Harriet, and you are not the only one.’
Grace caught Harriet’s eye, and her friend reddened.
‘Right,’ said Gilbert, slapping his napkin onto the table. ‘See that you stay indoors as the weather is inclement. I shouldn’t want you to take a chill, and that goes for Grace, too, as it seems we are responsible for her.’
‘I would not wish to outstay my welcome,’ said Grace.
‘Oh, do not vex yourself on that score,’ said Gilbert, unsmiling. ‘I am sure your company is very diverting for my wife. She has few friends who visit and is sorely in need of stimulating conversation, which she can hardly have with the servants.’
‘Of course,’ said Grace, hating Gilbert for his condescension to his wife. Though he was right about the weather, as the rain had started to pit-pat against the windows. There would be no escape from the house or its leaden atmosphere today. The chime of the doorbell had Grace stiffening. Surely Caville would not return? She glanced at Gilbert, who smirked at her most alarmingly. It could only mean one thing.
‘I have a sudden headache,’ she said. ‘I think I will return to my room for a lie down.’
Suddenly, the door opened, and Rawden burst into the room, casting her the bleakest glare before giving a quick bow to Gilbert. He had a black eye, a swollen jaw and purple bruises on the back of his hands. He looked every inch the street thug and regarded her with a seething intensity that had her heart racing.
‘I came as quickly as I could,’ he said to Gilbert, who did not seem at all surprised to see him.
‘Will you partake of some breakfast?’ drawled Gilbert.
‘I thank you, no. I have come for my wife, and we will leave directly.’ He turned back to Grace, and his jaw worked as he said, ‘Get your things. We are leaving.’ Every word bristled with suppressed rage.
‘No. I…I am not,’ said Grace.
‘It is for the best, Grace,’ said Harriet into the void of silence around the table.
