A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (60 page)

“
I’m sorry, but I can’t do
that. You are ill. I can have you home far sooner if I carry you
than if you walk.” He tightened his grasp, pulling her to his chest
so she had no choice but to accept his assistance.

She huffed up at him with the most
adorable frown on her face, but thankfully ceased her struggles and
arguments. Within minutes, he reached the cottage and carried her
through the door held open by the butler.

“
Oh goodness, Gracie!” Lady
Kensington’s shocked cry reverberated through the front hallway of
the cottage. “Laurence, she’s ill. Oh, Lord Alexander, I’m very
glad you were with her to carry her home. Come. Come with me. We’ll
settle her in bed where she can rest. You poor dear, going for a
walk to take some air, and becoming sick like that.”

Lady Kensington led him up the stairs
and pushed open the door to Lady Grace’s bedchamber. She pulled
back the bedclothes and plumped the pillows so he could place her
in comfort, although it seemed to him the woman took more time to
accomplish the task than necessary. He continued to hold Lady Grace
tight in his arms and waited.

A maid stepped into the room. “Oh, my
lady. Have you taken ill again?”

Alex’s head whipped around to stare
down at the. “Again? Lady Grace has been ill before
today?”

The maid blushed prettily, then rushed
forward to assist Lady Kensington in preparing the bed for Lady
Grace. Her efficiency sped the process along a good deal, but she
didn’t answer his question. Finally, they had the counterpane
pulled down and pillows situated just so. Alex frowned up at them
both as he laid her in the bed, careful of placement for her
comfort.

“
It is nothing, my lord.”
Lady Kensington patted his arm before adjusting pillows around Lady
Grace’s head and tucking the quilt tightly against her sides. “I
fear the cod she ate at luncheon didn’t agree with her. Never you
mind.”

“
Shall I fetch a doctor? I
can ride into town and bring one in short order.” Blast it, he felt
helpless with empty arms.

“
No. No, that’s not
necessary, but you are such a dear for making the offer. Gracie
will be fine after a good rest.” Lady Kensington stopped her
ministrations and faced him. “Lord Rotheby is tired, sir. I thank
you for bringing him to visit, but he desires to rest in his own
home. Please see to his comforts and allow me to see to
Gracie’s.”

Clearly, Alex had been dismissed. He
returned to the parlor and fetched Gil, determined not to fret over
Lady Grace.

On the return trip to Roundstone, he
couldn’t banish the feel of her in his arms as he carried her from
his mind. She was so fragile, yet strong.

What a fascinating
combination.

Chapter Ten

“
Gracie, sweetheart, I
think we should go into Bath tomorrow and have some new gowns made
for you.” Aunt Dorothea’s attempt at tact fell heavy on the air.
“With your condition…well, you’ll be starting to fill out around
the middle before much longer, and your clothes will not fit you
properly anymore. We must have a seamstress work on some garments
more appropriate for your situation.”

It was already mid-morning, and Grace
had been unable to head downstairs for breakfast. Her stomach upset
had assailed her far more strongly than usual, and she remained
stuck in her chamber.

She groaned aloud as another wave of
nausea passed over her. “Aunt Dorothea, new gowns cost money that I
can’t afford. Why don’t we let out the ones I already
own?”

Could they be let out enough to
sustain her through the pregnancy? She had her doubts, but that
approach seemed a better alternative than going without or wearing
too-small gowns. Maybe she could use similar fabrics and combine
them, if they wouldn’t expand far enough to cover her about the
middle.

Her aunt scowled over at her. “Oh,
poppycock! Do you really think your uncle and I expect you to pay
for such things yourself? Goodness, Gracie. If not for the fact
your father would have spent it all on his gambling and
lightskirts, we would have sent money all along for your education
and expenses. Why, if I had known you had no lady’s maid, I would
have hired one and paid her discreetly so he couldn’t steal that
money as well. We will buy you some appropriate attire while you
stay with us. Why, I never.”

Aunt Dorothea puttered around the
room, straightening things in no need of straightening, likely just
to have something to do. “We’ll travel into Bath tomorrow, and
that, my dear, is that. Tess, sweetheart, you will need to pack a
small trunk for your mistress.”

The young maid stepped out from the
shadows of the corner. “Yes, my lady. I’ll take care of it,
ma’am.”

“
We’ll be gone for a week.
Please pack her trunk this evening. And one for yourself, if you
please. We’ll require your services, I would imagine. One cannot
sit in a hotel room and not be seen while in Bath, you
know.”

Aunt Dorothea turned to Grace on the
bed. “Dear, I do hope you feel more the thing tomorrow. It will
take us nearly the full day to travel. I should hate for you to be
ill in the carriage. Nothing is more miserable, I can assure you.”
She patted the back of Grace’s hand and smoothed the hair over her
brow before she left the room.

Grace sighed to herself. There could
be no avoiding it, once her aunt’s mind was set on something.
Brooding would accomplish nothing.

“
Well, Tess, shall we start
packing?” She descended from bed to select some gowns for the
journey.

What would her aunt toss into her path
next? Surely she would have to give up the foolish idea of finding
a match for Grace soon. It wouldn’t be much longer before her
condition started to reveal itself, and then no gentleman would
consider her, nonetheless.

~ * ~

Gil looked uncomfortable as he
prepared to speak to Alex across the table while they ate luncheon.
His face contorted a few times, and he twice attempted to speak
only to stop himself short before anything more than an “ah” or
“mph” came out. He shook his head each time he stopped.

“
Spit it out, old man.”
Alex softened the rebuke with a fiendish grin. “We’ll be here all
night if you keep it up at this pace.”

The earl took another bite before he
tried again. “I need to take a trip, and I want you to come with
me.” He rushed on when Alex tried to interrupt with an argument.
“Not a long trip. Just to Bath, for a few days. I want to take the
waters there, and see if I can clear up this cough of mine. I have
some business to attend to.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. Traveling, with
the state of Gil’s health, was a ghastly idea. Preposterous, even.
And did the waters really do anyone any good? He had more than a
few doubts about that. So why go through with the trip? It could
only serve to complicate matters which needed no aid in
complication. Gil would do much better to stay at home where his
friends and doctors could see after him.

But Gil pressed on. “I’m going, Alex.
With or without you. You can’t stop me. I would appreciate it if
you choose to join me, but you will not change my mind. I leave for
Bath in the morning.”

With that, Gil pushed away from the
table and stalked from the room. Alex wouldn’t be able to stand it
if he allowed Gil to go to Bath alone and something happened to
him. He supposed he only had one choice.

He was going to Bath.

~ * ~

Grace had felt fine when they departed
from Somerton, but soon the nausea started again. She got by as
long as her eyes remained closed.

Somehow, seeing everything in the
carriage bounce and dance about caused her stomach to lurch.
Keeping her eyes closed turned out to be a good trick in more than
just that manner, as her aunt and uncle took it as a sign she was
in no mood for conversation, and they left her to her own
thoughts.

As the carriage rocked back and forth
toward Bath, she let her mind drift to the painting excursion along
the Cary River. She’d merely hoped to enjoy the day with her aunt
and uncle and get in a spot of painting. The experience always
relaxed her, as she put her vision onto the canvas. But this time
had been different.

Painting the scene on the river became
a cathartic experience. Grace had so many pent up emotions—hurt,
anger, and sadness directed toward her father—and a good deal
pointed at Lord Barrow as well. All of it had rushed out of her and
made its way into the painting.

She had captured the vitality of the
running water and the soul of the flowers that grew across the
bank. But she also rendered the clouds as dark and menacing—they
threatened to destroy all the vitality stretching along the river
bed. None of it had been a conscious decision on her part. She had
simply started to paint, and then lost herself in the moment. Her
brushes had taken on a life of their own and willed her hands to
guide them in a certain manner. They had reveled in victory when
she acquiesced.

What an experience it had become, to
give in to the moment. She felt so alive and energized when she
finished with the painting—and so much of the hurt she kept locked
inside was left in the clouds of the artwork.

When they arrived home at the cottage,
she had selected a spot on the wall in her chamber where she would
hang the painting once it was framed. She wanted to see it every
day and remember.

Grace relived the moment she completed
her painting—the full breath, the sense of accomplishment, and then
turning to discover Lord Alexander staring at her.

She had no idea he had been watching
her as she worked. He might have been there for only a moment or
for hours, and she would have been none the wiser. But there he
stood, with a look of utter surprise and awe.

Neither had said a word. In fact, she
had said nothing to him the entire day. She didn’t intend to be
rude, but what should she say to him? Their previous encounter had
ended with that kiss—that glorious, sinful kiss. What did a lady
talk about with a gentleman after such an experience? She hoped he
would initiate future conversation, so she wouldn’t have to
decide—if they ever had another conversation.

Even though she knew it was wrong of
her, and for his own sake she should end their connection, Grace
was desperate to see him, to hear his voice—to touch him again. She
had spent many a night thinking of him before she fell to sleep and
later chastised herself for wishing for the impossible. Sometimes,
his woodsy scent assaulted her nostrils and she woke, only to
realize the open windows had pulled the scent in from
outside.

Aunt Dorothea had not helped matters
any, with her countless unsubtle hints toward the man. The last
thing Grace needed was for Lord Alexander to desire an attachment
with her. It was the last thing he needed, too.

She could never marry him. Since she
still hadn’t attained her majority, such a decision would fall to
Father. And asking for his permission was simply out of the
question.

For a brief moment, she
entertained the notion of letting Lord Alexander know the truth of
her situation. It
could
convince him to avoid her. However, her luck often
ran the other direction, and he might instead increase his
attentions. That wouldn’t do.

But how could she conceal the spread
of her belly? Maybe he would no longer be in Somerton when it
started to happen, so the point would become moot.

If her luck turned, he would be called
back to Town on urgent family business or something of the sort.
Anything, as long as he left so she wouldn’t have to face him and
the unwelcome feelings she experienced in his presence.

The nerve of her aunt, giving him an
open invitation to New Hill! But what could Grace do about it? She
relied on the Kensingtons’ charity at this point, and saw no end to
the situation for a good deal of time to come. They had every right
to invite whomever they desired to visit at their home, and she had
none to deny them. All the same, she wished her aunt would stop
interfering in a relationship Grace wished would
disappear.

But instead of disappearing, he had
accepted the offer and shown up on their door—and the visit had
ended in the most dreadfully embarrassing manner she could
imagine.

It was not that she disliked Lord
Alexander—far from it, actually. Grace was far too attracted to the
man for her own good. From his behavior, he seemed fascinated with
her as well, which could not serve either of them.

He deserved better than the risk of
heartache from becoming too close to her. Nor did he deserve to be
leg-shackled to a woman already ruined by another, no matter how it
had come about. Lord Alexander deserved an untarnished woman, or at
the very least one not bearing another man’s child. Grace wished
she could find some way to avoid him, but her control over matters
slipped further and further from her grasp each day.

After a long day in the carriage with
her eyes closed, she finally dared to open them. Thankfully, the
nausea had passed.