A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (72 page)

Grace had never seen her uncle in so
foul a mood. “Uncle?” Her voice trembled, but she pressed on.
“Uncle Laurence, what did Father write?” She couldn’t decide
whether her curiosity about the letter’s contents outweighed her
desire to pretend the letter did not exist. But she had to learn
what he had said. He’d found her, after all. She needed to know his
plans. Straightening her posture, she leaned forward to await her
uncle’s response.

“
Gracie, you are to return
immediately to London. His
lordship
finds your aunt and me remiss in our
responsibilities to you—”

Aunt Dorothea bristled at the
insult.

“
And therefore we shall all
go to London where your
father
can oversee our efforts to protect you from the
shame you brought upon yourself.”

Her aunt interrupted, all righteous
indignation. “Why, that insolent man. We have been remiss in our
responsibilities to Gracie? What of himself? The
bloody—”

“
Dorothea,” Uncle Laurence
chided.

She turned her glare on her
husband and scowled. “The
bloody
man must be well deep in his cups, if he is under
the mistaken impression he’s done anything right by our Gracie,
ever once in his
bloody
life. Why, I never!” She moved to Grace’s side and
ran a hand over her hair. “And to order us to London! Laurence, he
has no authority to order us about.”

“
Apparently, we’ve been
accused of kidnapping her out from beneath his nose. We’re to face
the authorities on these charges.”

The authorities? Kidnapping? Oh dear,
what a monstrous mess she’d made. Now she couldn’t run away. She
had to do whatever she could to clear the names of her aunt and
uncle—the people who had sheltered and protected her, who had shown
her love for the first time in her life. She couldn’t repay them by
running.

“
What? How ridiculous can
the man be?” Aunt Dorothea folded her arms over her
chest.

Uncle Laurence paced before the
hearth. “Despite the absurdity of his claims, we have no
alternative. We must take Grace to London.”

“
But couldn’t you go and
clear these lies on your own? I see no reason for Gracie and me to
be subjected to such an ordeal.” Her aunt sat down again and ripped
at the threads hanging from her embroidery project with a
fierceness she rarely displayed. “Or even better, we could ask the
local magistrate to come here to ascertain the truth. The London
authorities should have no reason to doubt the magistrate’s
word.”

“
Whether you and I go or
not, Gracie must go. Chatham is still her father, despite our
wishes. He is her guardian. He has the right to do with her as he
wishes, until she reaches her majority. Would you send her to
London alone, then? Should she suffer through her confinement in
that prison of a house? Who would care for her, if not the two of
us, Dorothea?”

Ferocity radiated from Aunt Dorothea
as her husband’s words sunk in.

Love for her aunt and uncle surged
through Grace for their loyalty and protectiveness. But she
couldn’t suffer the thought of them leaving their home on her
account, no matter how necessary they may deem it.

But then her thoughts turned to
another matter. “Uncle,” she said timidly, “did my father mention
the Earl of Barrow?” She feared the answer.

He reached forward to clasp her hand
as he responded. “Yes, I’m afraid he did.”

Several moments passed in
silence.

“
You’re to marry as soon as
the arrangements have been settled.”

Good God. She would marry Lord Barrow.
She would be his countess. Grace tried to settle her mind, with
little success. It shouldn’t surprise her. She’d known before she
left London that would be her fate, should she stay.

But he ravished
me
.

Grace placed a hand against the slight
swell caused by his atrocious deed, the swell that proved the
existence of her baby. Of Barrow’s baby.

What kind of father will
he be?

Would he force her and her child to
stay locked inside his home, much as her father had done for so
many years? Would he strike the child? She couldn’t tolerate the
thought of any harm coming to her babe, but what could she do to
stop it? As an unmarried woman, she had no rights. She would have
fewer still once she married.

Her child would never know a father’s
love.

She needed to get outside, to clear
her mind. She wrapped the quilt about her shoulders for protection
against the cold outdoors. There must be a way out of this mess—she
need only discover it.

“
Gracie, are you quite
alright?” her aunt asked, concern obvious in her tone. Grace walked
to the door without answering. “Love, where are you going?
Laurence, go fetch her pelisse. She’ll surely catch a chill. Oh,
lud.”

Grace kept walking, oblivious to her
aunt’s distress. She needed fresh air, the wind on her cheeks, and
some space to think. A footman stationed in the front hall opened
the door before she walked straight through it.

Lost in thought, she wandered down the
lane and away from the cottage, unaware of her surroundings and
with no destination in mind. The bitter winds tore through her
makeshift shawl, but she ignored the bite.

She didn’t want to go back to London.
Grace had settled in to her new life in Somerton and had finally
found contentment. For the first time since her mother’s death, she
had people who cared for her, people for whom she cared. But how
could she stay put? Her father was still her guardian, no matter
either of their wishes on the matter. He could do with her as he
wished.

Obviously, Father had concocted some
sort of scheme involving this idea of her kidnapping. If only she
could determine how Father would benefit from it, then she could
discover a way out. Did Barrow know of their child? And how would
Father be able to use that information to his advantage? Oh, blast
it, why had she ever told Father about the baby to begin with? She
should have simply left. This would all be so much easier if he
didn’t know.

She dreaded this impending marriage,
but there was no escape. She could try to leave her aunt and uncle,
but she doubted they would make such an escape easy for her at this
point. And besides, where would she go, and how would she take care
of the baby? The only real option she could conceive of—a marriage
to Lord Alexander—she had tossed aside.

If only things had been different. She
might have agreed to marry him and been much happier than her life
now looked to be. Lord Alexander would be a good husband, she had
no doubt. If she could open up to him, trust him, their life
together would be more than tolerable. He might even come to love
her someday.

And he would be a good father. He
would never have to know that the child in her womb was not his
own—babies often arrived earlier than they were
expected.

But Grace had lost that opportunity.
She had told him to find someone more suitable.

It had been right for her to do so.
She’d done exactly as she ought, even if it wasn’t the best thing
for herself. How could she afford the luxury of thinking of
herself, at this point? But what of her child? Would the baby not
be better loved with Lord Alexander than with Lord Barrow? Alas,
the opportunity was lost. She had seen nothing of Lord Alexander
since she walked away from him in Bath.

She
had walked away from
him
. She must always remember this.
The broken heart she suffered was her own doing. There was nowhere
else to place the blame.

Blast, none of this was helping
anything. She forced herself to think of her future, the true
future awaiting her and not the imagined future she would never
experience. Lord Barrow would never make a good husband, nor likely
a good father, but she had no choice. If nothing else, marrying him
would mean she could keep her child, without toiling away at some
job in an unknown place.

It would have to be enough.

She turned back toward the cottage and
fought against the bitter wind. Tess would need to start packing
again. Grace would help her. That would at least give her something
to do, somewhere to focus her thoughts other than on her
fears.

Fear could come later.

~ * ~

His breath was ragged as he slammed
through the front door of Hardwicke House. Alex had walked home
from his visit with Chatham instead of riding in the carriage. The
rain had let up, and though it was unseasonably cold for May in
London, the temperature didn’t bother him.

He needed to walk off his anger before
he returned to his family.

And what a rage he was in. Alex had
difficulty remembering a time when he had come so close to losing
control so completely. If he hadn’t departed from Chatham House
when he did, would have landed himself in prison.

The front door of Hardwicke House
crashed to a close behind him, causing paintings and mirrors in the
near vicinity to shudder.

Neil Hardwicke, Alex’s younger
brother, poked his head around the corner from the breakfast room.
His sandy-blond hair with touches of the family red stuck out at
ends and his blue eyes were bloodshot. “Keep it down, would you,?”
He placed a hand to his temple and rubbed. “A man cannot have any
quiet around here,” Neil grumbled under his breath. He squinted
against the light pouring through the windows and
grimaced.

“
I see you’re up before the
crack of noon.” Alex gave his brother what he intended to be a
playful punch on the shoulder, but instead had a good deal of force
and heft behind it. “Sorry. And I see it is after noon,
nonetheless.”

He picked up a slice of bacon and
popped it in his mouth, then took a seat across from his younger
brother—whose plate was filled to spilling over. “Should we have
Peter order the fatted calf killed for dinner then?” He gave a
pointed look to Neil’s plate in response to the look of confusion
he received.

“
What in bloody hell are
you so chipper about?” Neil stuffed forkfuls of eggs and sausages
into his mouth, effectively putting an end to communication beyond
grunts, at least for a few minutes.

“
Tsk, tsk. Sarcasm is not
pretty on you, brother.”

Before Neil could respond, Peter and
Gil joined them in the breakfast room. “Good morning, Neil. So kind
of you to grace us with your presence. To what do we owe this
honor?” Peter then turned to Alex. “And you—will you please refrain
in future from closing my front door with so much force I can hear
it from the mews? Lord Rotheby and I had just returned, and I
thought we must be in Vauxhall for the fireworks
display.”

He passed a none-too-subtle
glare in the direction of Alex before continuing. “I don’t wish to
give my servants more work fixing doors when their time could
better be spent in cleaning up after
him
,” he said, nodding in the
direction of Neil, who maintained his previous pace of devouring
everything within reach.

Alex sighed and pulled a hand through
his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on
your home.”

“
I know it.” Peter waited
for a moment, allowing him time to consider his actions. “I take
this to mean your interview with Chatham did not go as you had
hoped?”

“
Chatham? Why did you visit
with Chatham?” Neil’s mouth gaped open in apparent horror over the
revelation, a piece of egg falling to the table.

Peter spared a
mind-your-own-matters-we-are-busy-here glance in Neil’s direction
before urging Alex, who spared the youngest brother no glance at
all, to continue.

“
He refused. I don’t have a
title. I don’t have any property. Chatham has already promised
Grace to Barrow.” He ground out the words, forcing them through his
lips. “Barrow is paying for her. He’s buying her like chattel.
Chatham might as well have put her up for auction at Tattersall’s,
with the way he’s handling this.”

“
Did you offer Chatham
reasons to reconsider, Alex?” Gil interjected, joining in the
conversation for the first time.

“
You want to be
married
?” Neil dropped
his fork upon the realization. “And your suit has been rejected
by
Chatham
? Of all
the—”

All three of the older men shot Neil a
look, and he quieted again.

“
I offered to double
Barrow’s offer. I offered to
pay
for her. Good lord, I’m sickened again just from
the thought.” He buried his head in his hands for a moment to
collect himself. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. He alleges that
her aunt and uncle kidnapped her from his home. He’s drawing them
up on charges.”

“
Preposterous!” Gil’s vigor
returned in full force.

Peter rubbed his chin for a moment
before he spoke. “That cannot be true, can it?”

He pushed away from the table and
strode to the window. “I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. I
believe, if anything, she ran away. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame her,
after having met the man.” Alex punched the wall, then shook the
sting from his fisted hand. “He’s ordered her to return, so she can
marry Barrow immediately. I may have lost my chance for her, if I
cannot intercept them and rush with her to Gretna Greene. But even
still, she’s refused me. I just don’t know what to do.” Her aunt
and uncle would assist him in convincing her to accept. Wouldn’t
they? “Perhaps I could kidnap her and take her there.”