Chapter Twenty-nine
Ramsey once again found sleep elusive. Since he’d returned from Glenwood Manor, he’d been able to sleep quite well, up until he’d begun fighting the internal war over his affection for Grace. Then it all went to hell. Add in that he was getting married on the morrow, and he was quite certain that he was going to watch both the sunset and the sunrise.
Everything, all the many details had come together beautifully; it wasn’t the stress of it, but something more. A missing piece, something he couldn’t name but knew was not in place.
Westhouse had made good on his word and vacated his London home to spend several months tending to “estate business,” and the club was moving along without so much as a single brawl in the past few evenings.
Then it hit him what was wrong.
Nothing.
Not a bloody thing.
Rather, he was expecting something to happen, something to point to how it all was doomed from the beginning, something to fall apart at his feet, making him bend over backward to pick up the pieces.
But that was the strangest thing. Nothing was broken, or even breaking. It was . . . good.
Feelings of unworthiness flooded him, and as before when he was planning his visit back to Glenwood Manor, he felt the need to punish himself for being happy, or at least he felt guilt for being happy.
And not just happy—deliriously happy.
Overjoyed, really.
Old habits die hard, and this one was not willing to fade into the darkness yet.
He rolled over on his bed, thinking over the past few days. He’d been a complete and utter gentleman, and as much as it had cost him in self-control, he’d kept his hands from Grace’s tempting body, and only allowed himself a few chaste kisses.
The planning had taken up most of her time, and it was a welcome distraction for him as well, anything to make the time go by faster so that he would no longer have to exercise such strenuous self-discipline. But tomorrow, all that control would be allowed to snap, and he’d freely enjoy the glorious pleasure of Grace as his wife.
Never in a hundred years would he have guessed he’d marry again after Rebecca’s betrayal, but it went to prove the point that the right person can change everything.
And Grace had changed him.
But it started with him deciding to let go of the past, to grow from it. It started with going back to Glenwood Manor, and the truth that Mrs. White had infused into his life like tea into hot water. And that seed of truth had grown and flourished, allowing his heart to heal.
To learn to love.
And as if fate had one cruel final joke, the past had risen up to haunt him once more through Westhouse. He still couldn’t quite believe the pain in the ass was his half-brother, but it had brought so much clarity to his childhood. It was like the shackles of his past were constantly fighting for control of him.
But no more.
No. He finally had a future ahead of him that was hopeful, glorious, and full of wonderful expectation.
He just couldn’t wait for it to start.
Which only added to why, again, he couldn’t sleep.
He closed his eyes, but every time he did, he saw her face, her smile, the way her lips quirked when she was about to say something with a dry wit.
The hours ticked by, and soon, but not nearly soon enough, it was an acceptable time to start preparing for the wedding.
His wedding.
The wedding breakfast would take place at Heathcliff’s house, and the wedding . . . that was his surprise for Grace.
She thought it was at a small chapel.
He grinned wildly at the way he knew she would be utterly surprised. Lady Kilpatrick had whispered that Grace had mentioned something in passing, and Ramsey was only overly thrilled to try and make it happen for her.
