A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (55 page)

She had so much more freedom in
Somerton than she had ever experienced with her father. While she
was with the Kensingtons, she could forget for a time that she
would be forced into a marriage with whichever gentleman her father
could convince to marry her—assuming he ever located her. She let
herself imagine she could stay with the Kensingtons forever, that
they could be a happy family without the threat of her father’s
retribution.

She still shivered at the thought of a
life with Lord Barrow. It was best to hope she would never have to
return to London.

Her daydreams were filled with images
of raising her child with her aunt and uncle at her side, allowing
the tot to run wild through the gardens at New Hill. Some days, she
dreamed of a man alongside her—a tall man with auburn hair,
laughing and playing with her child.

But dreams were not reality. They
could never be.

Even so, today would be favorable.
Grace was going to paint the English countryside on the banks of
the Cary River. She would put the tempest of her feelings onto
canvas in swirls and streaks of color and texture in a way only she
could do. Grace would never be considered the finest artist in
England, but she did have a knack with her brushes.

She had a spring in her step when she
joined her aunt and uncle for breakfast. The sky was overcast, but
the wind was calm. It should be a perfect day for their picnic by
the river.

She and Uncle Laurence planned to take
their paints, canvases, and easels. Aunt Dorothea, in the process
of embroidering a pillow to put in the morning parlor, planned to
work on a spot of needlework. She said she could think of no better
place to work on it than in the out of doors, as long as the
weather cooperated.

“
Good morning, Gracie,”
Uncle Laurence said. “You seem chipper today.” He looked up from
his papers when she joined them at the breakfast table.

Grace grinned across at him. “Good
morning, Uncle. Is anything interesting in your papers
today?”

It took several days for the papers to
reach them in Somerton, so by now the news he was reading was close
to a week old. The lack of timeliness never stopped him from poring
through them each morning.

He flicked the paper and looked over
it at her. “Why, I would say so. It seems the Duke of Walsingham is
engaged to a Miss Barbara Flynn. Young Miss Flynn was not pleased
at the prospect of becoming his duchess, it would appear, as she
took a dive from a second floor balcony at the engagement party
given by her father. She suffered an injury to her arm in the fall,
but her father assures all she will be quite fit to say her vows in
a fortnight’s time.”

Grace’s heart plummeted to the floor.
The poor girl! “My pity goes out to Miss Flynn, then. I am thankful
I didn’t have to make such a choice.” Of course, she had been
forced to make other choices. She turned back to her breakfast and
tried not to think about how much the path of her life had changed
of late.

Uncle Laurence leaned across the table
and whispered to her, “I suppose there are some small favors
granted to us in life.” He patted her on the top of her hand and
resumed reading his papers.

She hated herself for not revealing
her ruin to them before now. The Kensingtons had been more than
kind to her, with not a single question asked about anything. They
had simply accepted her. Grace took another bite and steeled
herself to divulge her secret.

No time like the present.

“
Uncle, Aunt. There
is…there’s something I must tell you. Well, several somethings,
actually.”

Uncle Laurence set his newspaper down
on the table and gave her his undivided attention while Aunt
Dorothea reached across the table to grasp her hand. “Go on, dear,”
her aunt said. “You can tell us anything, you know.”

Grace took a breath and rushed out
with it before she could think better of it. “I have run away from
Father.” Their disgust and anger were sure to come at any moment.
She squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see their
reaction.

“
Yes,” said Uncle Laurence.
“Your aunt and I had surmised as much, Gracie. Why, your father cut
off all contact with us years ago. He certainly couldn’t know you
were here with us now. I don’t imagine he would have allowed you to
visit it. What we have not discovered for ourselves is why you felt
the need to do something so rash.”

They would hear her out? Shock set in
that they weren’t turning her from their door immediately. She had
difficulty finding her words. “I…he—the earl, that is” Goodness,
where should she start?

“
It is all right,
sweetheart,” her aunt said. “Take your time. Your uncle always
tells me it is best to begin at the beginning. I do often have
difficulty finding where the beginning might be, myself, but I am
certain he’s right.”

“
The beginning?” Grace took
a sip from her cup of morning chocolate to stall for a bit more
time. Where had it all started? “Well, you see—I’ve been
ravished.”

“
Gracious heavens.
Laurence, you must find the scoundrel and challenge him at once.
Who did this to you, Gracie? We shall not stand for it, by gad. He
will come to justice!” Aunt Dorothea rose from her seat and paced
through the room. “I tell you, Laurence, I knew something horrible
had happened to our Gracie, and that man—her
father
—he’s done nothing about it,
has he? Of course he hasn’t. The vile, despicable—” Tears sprung to
her aunt’s eyes.

“
Dorothea, let the girl
continue her story.” Uncle Laurence looked to Grace with
understanding eyes. “She has not yet finished. Have you
Gracie?”

She stared down at her hands folded on
her lap. “No, Uncle. I—well…”

“
Who was he, Gracie? Tell
us the blackguard’s name and your uncle will challenge the deuced
coward like your father should have done.”

A look from Uncle Laurence silenced
her aunt again. “Dueling, my dear, is illegal, as you well know.
His name is not important at this precise moment. Go on,
sweetheart. Your aunt will not interrupt you again.”

If only she would. Those interruptions
allowed her to put off the telling, even if only for a moment or
two. “I’m…with child.” A single tear fell down her cheek, followed
by a virtual flood. Her aunt was at her side in an instant, pulling
her close.

“
And is that why you left,
Grace?” Uncle Laurence moved closer to where she sat.

She nodded, unable to form words as
she succumbed to a bout of hiccups. Once they slowed, she tried to
continue. “Father…he—w—when I told him, hic—he was so angry. He
wants me to marry the man—”

“
Oh no, you most certainly
will not marry that man! I will never hear of it. The nerve of your
father!”

Uncle Laurence placed a calming hand
on his wife’s shoulder to quiet her. “Go on, Grace.”

“
And if…if he will not have
me, then I am to—to—to give the child away to a family in need of
more hands and marry whoever else he can arrange for.”

Aunt Dorothea burst from her position
to pace through the breakfast room. “What? I am appalled.
Appalled!”

“
So I came here to you,”
Grace continued. She had to get through it all or she’d never
finish. “I didn’t know where else to go. I’ll leave if you want me
to. You have been more than kind to allow me to stay as long as you
have. I don’t want to be a burden on you—”

“
A burden? A burden!
Laurence, the child thinks she is a burden on us. Goodness, Gracie,
if you try to leave, I’ll be furious with you. Why, wherever would
you go? You cannot do this alone, dear. I’ll not hear of
it.”

Uncle Laurence nodded. “Your aunt is
right. You must stay with us. Why, how would a woman in your
situation get by? No, your leaving is out of the
question.”

“
But what if Father finds
out where I am?” He would be irate if he knew they had willfully
defied him. Murderous, even.

“
Let me worry about that. I
can handle your father.” Uncle Laurence’s eyes held a grim
expression quite unlike his usual calm demeanor.

“
And the baby?” How would
they explain her situation to their neighbors? Oh, no, she couldn’t
stay through her confinement. It would bring her shame upon
them.

“
The baby? Why, Gracie,
your baby must stay where you stay. I’ll quite enjoy having a
little one about, I daresay.” Aunt Dorothea puttered around the
room, picking up objects from one position and moving them to
another, in a random fashion. “Laurence, the next time we travel to
Bath, I must purchase some yarn. I’ll need to begin knitting for
the little one. Lud, do you think your child will have your eyes? I
do hope so. Such pretty eyes. So unlike my boring, brown eyes. I
always envied your mother those eyes, have I told you that? Why, I
declare, they are the most fascinating shade. I could never tire of
looking at them—and if I can stare at them in the face of a babe,
oh, I’ll simply be in heaven…”

Her chatter droned on, but Grace could
no longer concentrate on it. Her thoughts lay in only one
direction. She could stay. And she could keep her child.

Everything would be all right. She
finished her breakfast and prepared for the day ahead—a day of
painting at the river with her aunt and uncle.

~ * ~

Gil’s coughing fit wracked his body as
he and Alex rode. They were headed through the countryside to
inspect the land by the creek and the Cary River. Rotheby’s land
only covered the area surrounding the creek, but he kept
emphasizing to Alex the importance of making certain things ran in
a smooth manner all along the river.

His continued illness left Alex more
than unsettled. It had gone on through the entire course of his
visit, without even the slightest hint of improvement. Gil had
coughing spells, tired easily, always complained of the cold, and
had a sickly pallor to his skin. There was an easy answer as to why
the illness lingered, but Alex didn’t want to accept it.

Gil was dying.

Now the reason for his invitation was
clear. The earl must want a friend with him during this time. He’d
never said as much, but why else would he have summoned Alex to his
side? And why Alex, when it would make more sense to send for his
grandson. Quinton was Gil’s heir, after all. Though, admittedly,
their relationship had been rather shaky. Maybe Quinton wasn’t the
best to have around at such a time, after all.

Alex admired the earl. He would even
go so far as to say he loved the man. Because of that love, he
intended to do all he could to make certain Rotheby was content
during their time together, however long it may be.

So, when Gil wanted to go for a ride,
they rode. If Gil wanted to visit a friend or a tenant, they
visited. When Gil wanted to tell stories of Alex’s childhood, or
even of his own childhood, Alex listened with his utmost attention.
Hence the reason for their current ride, even if Alex couldn’t
understand why the earl was teaching Alex all of these things and
not his heir.

Once Gil’s coughs subsided, Alex
turned in his saddle to face him. “Are you doing all right, Gil? We
can head back to Roundstone any time you’re ready.”

He didn’t want to seem overly
protective—but it was a tricky business, in a time like this. He’d
witnessed his father’s sudden death from apoplexy a few years back.
Alex didn’t want his time with Gil to be shortened any more than
necessary.

The earl glared at him from beneath
the brim of his hat. “I most certainly am not ready yet,
whippersnapper. Mind yourself.”

As usual, the older man was all bark
with no bite. Alex laughed.

They rode down the bank of the river
in silence for a distance, enjoying the warmth of the air despite
the lack of sunshine. A group of picnickers were up ahead of them
on the embankment. As they drew closer to the party, Alex could
make them out finally: Sir Laurence, with his wife and Lady
Grace.

Alex hadn’t seen any of them since the
day at Roundstone when he had kissed Lady Grace in the gardens and
made a complete arse of himself. Not only had he not seen them, but
he was glad for that fact.

Well, at least glad he hadn’t seen
Lady Grace. In less than an hour’s time that day, he’d been forced
to apologize to the woman three full times. He had no desire to
reprise such a performance.

Although Alex hadn’t seen her in
person in close to a fortnight, he continued to see her in his
dreams. But where initially her eyes haunted him with their bleak
emptiness, they now woke him with their fire. There had been heat
in her blue ice when he kissed her. She couldn’t deny it, and he
wouldn’t dream of it. He couldn’t blot the memory from his mind—but
he couldn’t act on it, either. He should be trying to guard her
virtue, not destroy it.

Nonetheless, he had told himself all
along he had no intention of becoming entangled with a female. Any
more contact with Lady Grace beyond simple, polite conversation
would most certainly qualify as an entanglement. There were already
more than enough entanglements waiting for his return in
London.