A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (80 page)

The woman effectively shooed them all
on their way, the two Hardwicke sisters practically holding Grace
up as they walked. They settled in and a cup of tea was pressed
into her hands where she sat near the hearth. She didn’t know
whether she drank. She could only think of one thing.

She would be married to Lord
Alexander, if she could not find a way to stop it from happening.
But surely, the dowager and the Duke of Somerton would convince
Father. He would think it his best course of action. How could he
not?

But how could she allow it to happen?
Oh, what a dreadful, dreadful mess.

People came and went from the drawing
room, conversation went on all around her, but she paid it no mind.
Not until Father came in.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with
sadness and guilt and maybe a touch of fear. He nodded with
resolute fervor.

And she knew.

~ * ~

He rode Sampson through Rotten Row.
Alex needed to clear his head, and nothing short of a
neck-or-nothing jaunt would do.

The fashionable hour wouldn’t arrive
for several hours, which suited him. Company would only serve to
aggravate him more, and constant interruptions to socialize and
gossip would surely cause his head to explode. A few ladies and
gentlemen were out and about, taking some air in the park. The Row,
however, was deserted in general, and those who were there seemed
content to ignore him.

Alex spurred his horse again. The wind
created by their run pushed his beaver hat back from his head, but
he didn’t care. The hat floated away behind him. He knew not where
it landed. Really, what did something so frivolous matter in the
grand scheme of life?

More than ever before, he wanted to
marry Grace.

Of course, all the prior
reasons were still in place. He had compromised her virtue, had
been intimate with her—and while she did not carry
his
child, she certainly
carried
a
child. A
child who would need a father. A child he would love.

But now, there was something
more.

Grace could never go back to her
father. He couldn’t allow it. Alex tried to imagine what her
childhood must have been like with a father who would call her a
whore. How could the man care so little for his daughter, for a
child of his own flesh?

But clearly Chatham was capable of
unspeakable atrocity. Alex knew this. The man had been prepared to
marry Grace off to Barrow, after all, a man who quite possibly was
a traitor to the crown. A man who may have ravished
Grace.

Alex shuddered.

At least he would no longer need to
worry about Grace’s future with Barrow. The Regent would see to it
that the bastard would never step foot outside of prison walls
alive again.

Cool air heavy with the scent of rain
whipped his hair about his head. He heard nothing but the clop of
Sampson’s hooves against the hard dirt. Alex dug his spurs into the
horse’s side, urging him to more and more speed, the possibility of
rain be damned. Wind against his face was exactly what he needed to
clear his mind.

How could he change Chatham’s mind?
There must be a way.

Alex had a fortune, thanks to his
brother. He would someday have property, whether through
inheritance from Gil or through his own purchase. He could provide
the marquess with a connection to the Duke of Somerton, one of the
most powerful men in all of England.

What more could he want?

Without question, Chatham wasn’t
concerned with Grace’s welfare, but more with his own status. And
with a guarantee of higher respectability within the beau monde
than he currently possessed, was Alex’s dearth of title really such
an issue?

Truth be told, Alex’s problem with
their earlier encounter was not Chatham’s refusal. He had more
confidence in his own persuasive abilities than to take the man’s
denial at this point as an absolute.

No, what truly bothered him was that
Chatham had used such a monstrous word to describe
Grace.

Whore
. He filled with rage again over the thought of the
term.

The worst of it was everything in
Chatham’s manner showed he believed what he said. The man had
neither cringed nor had he shown disgust when he called her a
whore. He’d looked Alex plain in the eyes and uttered the foulest
thing imaginable.

When it came to the heart of the
matter, Alex’s actions might have contributed to Chatham’s
assessment. In being so plain with the marquess yesterday about his
relations with Grace, even though he had auspicious intentions, he
might have furthered the man’s impression of his daughter. And
that, Alex realized, was the true source of his anger. Not that
Chatham had called Grace a whore—but that he had played a part in
creating such an impression.

He was a rake. A brute. Strong enough
words to describe what he’d become didn’t exist.

How could he possibly deserve Grace
now?

But he couldn’t allow her to be with
anyone else. Alex may have hurt his honor already, but he couldn’t
allow her virtue to suffer. He would marry her. He would find a way
to convince Chatham, and he would marry Grace.

The park was beginning to fill with
people, so he slowed Sampson to a canter. Devil take it, he must
have been out longer than he realized.

Alex turned Sampson around and began
the return journey to Grosvenor Square. He hoped beyond hope he
wouldn’t encounter someone he knew. He was in no mood to make
polite conversation.

Two riders approached, and he cursed
beneath his breath before he realized those riders were Sir Jonas
and Derek.

“
Have you finished with
your sulk then, Alex?” Sir Jonas called out. “And where did you
lose your hat? The dowager will die of shame if she discovers
you’ve been out in public without your head properly
covered.”

“
My hat?” He touched the
top of his bare head, shocked to feel nothing but his own hair.
“Devil take it, it fell off earlier and I let it fall.” But his
friend was right, his mother would be thoroughly scandalized if she
heard of the matter.

The three men looked about to find it.
Derek took off after a moment toward what Alex could only make out
to be a black spot on the ground, a rock or something of the sort
perhaps. That rock turned out to be his hat. Derek rode back with
the beaver hat in his hands and handed it over. “Now your mother
won’t be forced into scandal by your behavior, as long as the
gossip mill doesn’t give you away.”

“
Thank you. I’m sure Mama
would be most appreciative.”

They rode together at first in
silence. Alex was glad for the company because their presence
prevented someone else from stopping him for conversation. But his
pensive mood continued.

Despite his part in Chatham’s view of
Grace as a whore, and discounting his feelings toward a man who
could think such a thing of her, there was yet another problem Alex
must overcome.

“
Will Chatham allow me to
marry Grace after I attempted to kill him?”

“
What was that?” asked
Derek.

Alex jumped. He didn’t realize he’d
spoken aloud, so Derek’s response was unexpected.

“
I—I just—well, do you
think he will? Allow me? To marry Grace, that is? I mean…I don’t
know what I mean.” He paused to find the answers within himself. “I
did strangle him, you know. That’s not an easy thing to
overlook.”

They neared Grosvenor Square and
slowed their horses, so they could have a few more moments to speak
in private. Sir Jonas sent a questioning glance across to Derek,
who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“
What?” Alex asked. “What
do I not know?” Dread settled in his stomach.

“
Nothing to concern
yourself with,” Sir Jonas said. “Come on, they’re waiting for us
inside. No reason to put this off any longer.”

“
Put what off?”

But Sir Jonas and Derek dismounted and
moved up the stairs.

A familiar carriage was parked outside
the house. Try as he might, Alex couldn’t place where he’d seen it
before.

“
Put what off?” he called
out again, in a futile attempt at finding some answers before he
walked into—well, he had no idea what he might be walking into. As
had become something of a habit, he received no answer. Sir Jonas
and Derek were already well inside the house, thoroughly ignoring
him.

Alex cursed as he landed on the street
and handed his reins to the groom. It was horrid enough to have his
own siblings keep information from him, but to have Derek and Sir
Jonas go along with it was beyond the pale.

Alone, he climbed up the stairs of
Hardwicke House and entered through the front door. Who were their
guests? No point in delaying the inevitable.

Spenser greeted him as he entered.
“Lord Alexander, your presence has been requested by His Grace in
the downstairs salon.” The butler reached for his hat and coat even
as he executed a perfect bow.

“
Thank you. I’ll attend him
immediately.”

Derek and Sir Jonas had already made
their presence scarce, whether by a request for their presence in
the downstairs salon or by having been granted some other reprieve.
He moved through the familiar halls toward the salon with a sense
of fate hanging over his head.

One of Peter’s liveried footmen opened
the doors and ushered him inside. The room was full to bursting at
the seams. His entire family was present, save Richard. Derek, Sir
Jonas, and Gil were there as expected, since they were all more
like family than not. Chatham stood near the window looking out
into the gardens.

They all turned to face him upon his
entrance. The memory of where he had seen the carriage outside
before washed over him as he saw Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington
seated near Gil by the fire. Alongside them sat Grace, her two icy
eyes gazing at him, filled to the brim with unshed
tears.

Grace was there. In London. In his
home.

His body begged him to rush over to
her, pull her to him, and wipe away her tears. The sight of her,
even with the upset clear upon her face, rejuvenated him after
spending so many days away from her. He took a breath and allowed
himself to relax for the first time since he had left her in
Bath.

And then he remembered himself. “Lady
Grace, Sir Laurence, and Lady Kensington, it is wonderful to see
you in London.” He bowed to them and forced his feet to remain
rooted in place.

A warm smile spread across Lady
Kensington’s face. “Lord Alexander, how lovely to find you here.
You left Bath so suddenly and took our Lord Rotheby with you. And
then when we returned to Somerton, we didn’t find you there. I was
greatly disappointed, I must say. But we’d hoped, when we decided
to visit London, we might find you here.”

“
I apologize for leaving
Bath so quickly, ma’am, and for taking Gil with me. I had pressing
business matters to attend.” What a piddling excuse.

“
Oh goodness, don’t trouble
yourself over such a silly thing.” Lady Kensington waved her
handkerchief in a dismissive gesture. “We’re delighted you’re here.
I know our Gracie has missed you dreadfully.”

The color rose in Grace’s cheeks and
she looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Could it be true? Had
she missed him?

Her reaction rekindled his hope, but
one very large impediment still stood in his way—the Marquess of
Chatham.

Alex’s obstacle chose that particular
moment to clear his throat. “Pardon my interruption, Lord
Alexander, but might it be possible to have a private word with
you? There is something I wish to discuss.”

He glared over at Chatham. The man had
had the audacity to call Grace—the woman Alex loved, the woman he
intended to marry, the woman he would give his life to honor and
protect—a whore in his presence, and now he wanted to speak in
private?

Lady Kensington beamed up at Alex and
squeezed her husband’s hand.

Without Chatham’s permission, he
couldn’t marry Grace. He had to speak with the bastard
again.

Peter spoke up. “You may use my
private library if you wish. I believe that will suffice your
needs, Lord Chatham.”

With his glare still in place, Alex
nodded and led the marquess from the salon to his brother’s
library. His body shook with fury. The man had to be the cause of
Grace’s tears; there simply was no other explanation.

He ushered Chatham inside and waited
for the doors to close before taking a seat behind Peter’s large
oak desk. He wanted to assume an air of authority. He wanted it to
be clear he was the one now in charge, not the marquess.

Alex waved a hand toward an empty wing
chair facing the desk. “Please, have a seat. And tell me, what
would you like to discuss? Though I must warn you, if you haven’t
yet offered my mother and sisters an apology for your earlier
language, I doubt I’ll be very open to hearing a word you have to
say.”