Blinded by Grace: Book Five of the Cotillion Ball series (Crimson Romance) (22 page)

“Especially with little Saffron talking your ear off. She’s a regular chatterbox.”

Halwyn grinned, despite his dour mood. “Soon enough, you’ll have a chatterbox of your own. Do you have a preference on whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Jasmine wants a boy, and she usually gets her way, so that’s what ’twill be. But the thought of a tiny replica of my Jasmine, ah. How can I not want a little girl?” Parr put his hand to his heart for emphasis.

The two rode on in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Parr glanced over at Halwyn. “We must all be on our guard this weekend, since Simon Huffman will be in attendance.”

Halwyn nodded. “He’s only one of the reasons why a quick and simple ceremony would have sufficed. I put nothing past him, true enough. You would think even Simon has to admit defeat now. His trick with the horse in May only injured me, but it could have been much worse. If, for instance, Father had been the one riding instead. We almost switched horses at the last minute, but Mother talked some sense into him. If Father had been the one to take the tumble, I fear what might have happened.”

“Aye, indeed. But you dinna need to be afraid this weekend. Your father asked for my help in arranging for extra help in the stables, to keep an eye out for Simon. I brought over all the hands from the racing stables, except for two.”

“I appreciate your efforts, but this is his last opportunity to stop Grace from getting married, and we must be diligent. I don’t think he’ll try anything with the horses this time, since we’re on to him there, and he’s aware he’s going to be watched. No, it will be something more sinister than simply tampering with a horse, if he does have something planned. And I’m sure he does. I have a bad feeling about this weekend.”

Halwyn and Grace, along with both sets of parents, rode in an open carriage from the Fitzpatrick estate to the Episcopal church in Hempstead, where the ceremony would be performed the following day. This afternoon, the participants were to run through the order of the ceremony so nothing would come as a surprise to anyone. It only took a few minutes to figure out who was to stand where, and when, but even in the small amount of time he had, Halwyn studied Grace. He hadn’t been able to spend any time alone with her since the family had left the brownstone in New York.

And even before then, when he began to master getting around with a cast, and no longer had to lean on her, she was putting distance between them. After the disastrous interruption by the maid, they both seemed to realize they had been treading on very thin ice, and tried to impose some decorum back into their relationship. She was pale, even more so than normal, and her lips were drawn into a tight line. She was nervous. As any bride should be. He took hold of her bare hand as they stood in front of the altar and she glanced up at him in surprise.

“Relax, Grace. All will be fine.”

She rewarded him with a small smile, but her hand was limp in his. He squeezed her fingers gently. She pulled away.

Could she be having second thoughts?

He quickly shook off the notion. The greedy, predatory Simon was here, his hot breath on the back of her neck. If she’d forgotten in the past six weeks what was at stake, she was reminded now. She’d go through with this ceremony, even if she weren’t in love with him. This was the only way to protect herself and her mother. Maybe she wasn’t having second thoughts about the marriage. Perhaps her paleness came from her fear of Simon.

She had been more reserved of late, though, even more so than Halwyn thought was necessary. While he was laid up with his broken leg and his amnesia, Grace had been more than willing to spend every waking moment by his side, taking care of his needs and entertaining him with her ideas on how to furnish his townhouse, or reading to him. She’d even welcomed his modest advances on her. Judging from her reaction to his advances then, he’d had no doubt their wedding night would be one to remember, since she seemed as eager as he to explore their sensuality.

But as soon as his memory returned, and they were caught in their compromising position by the maid, she began backing away from him. When the cast was removed, and he didn’t have to rely on her so much, she put even more distance between them. His love was blossoming at the same time hers seemed to be fading. His nights became tormented once again. This time pain wasn’t what was rousing him from his sleep, but rather an urgent need to hold Grace in his arms and to kiss her beautiful mouth. And to lose himself in her lilac scent. She was only steps away from him, having taken up residence in Jasmine and Heather’s old room. Mere steps, but it was as if an ocean divided them.

Well, their distance from each other would soon end. They were to be married tomorrow, and would head back into town and to their new home. Although he didn’t care for some of the arrangements of the home—separate bedrooms for instance, the game room in place of a nursery—he hoped to rectify those two mistakes once they were truly alone for the first time. Yes, their betrothal may have begun as a business proposition, a marriage of convenience. But it wasn’t convenient anymore. He intended to make this a marriage in every sense of the word, if he could. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his heart to her.

• • •

Grace entered the parlor with a great deal of trepidation. Her mother and stepfather had greeted her rather frostily, and she was on her guard. Jasmine had designed her dress for the evening, a lovely confection of moss green silk and silk satin embellished with hand-tatted lace at the sleeves and intricate black beading on the bodice. The dress was understated, since it wasn’t full of ruching, ruffles, and bows, but rather it was the epitome of elegance and refinement. Her clothing, even when her father was alive, had never been this grand, this beautiful. If any of the ladies in attendance had not yet been to Jasmine’s shop, they would be there next week. Grace’s wedding gown, which she would wear tomorrow, was one of perfection. But she would take no pleasure in wearing the dress, despite its beauty.

Even tonight’s gown, to celebrate their successful rehearsal of tomorrow’s ceremony, would never be worn again. Such a terrible waste of fabric and energy, but it was associated with her mockery of a marriage, and she wanted no additional reminders. Having to move in with Halwyn was going to be enough of a reminder, every day for the next year. Maybe if she broke it down into weeks, it wouldn’t sound so horrendous. Only fifty-two weeks to get through. 365 days where she could only see him but not touch. If she faltered, and touched him, she would be lost. She loved him fiercely enough to have to endure what she had proposed to him. They both deserved to be married to people who loved in return, and she wouldn’t ever let herself forget, in this situation, the love was one-sided.

She had been wrong to allow him to think they were a couple in every sense of the word while he had his temporary amnesia, but his kisses had been so wonderful. Those wicked kisses should never have happened, because now she had a constant reminder of what could never be hers. She’d have to endure, one day at a time. And then get up the next morning from her lonely bed and endure it again. And then, after their year of marriage was over, she would have to endure him courting and marrying the woman who was his true partner. Her teeth gritted together as she placed her hand on his arm so he could lead her into the dining hall.

Halwyn noticed her set jaw, and misinterpreted her actions. “I’m not so bad to be with, am I, Grace?”

If he only were aware of the true cause of her discomfort.

“Of course not. I merely am reacting to being the center of attention.”

“Mother did get carried away with her plans, didn’t she?”

“Your mother is a wonderful woman. To have gone to all this trouble for someone who’s not even a member of the family.”

“Ah, but we’ll take care of the situation tomorrow, won’t we? You’ll be family soon enough.”

“In name, at least.” She gazed up at him. “Nothing more, Halwyn. I’m well aware of our agreement.”

He plucked her hand from his arm and kissed her fingers. “I hope, in a year’s time, to make you forget our agreement.”

Her heart leapt at his words. She longed to lean into him and share a more passionate kiss, but if she did, she would never be able to get through the year. She was well aware he hadn’t even known she and he were even on the same planet until a few short weeks ago. She blinked, and turned her head away.

Simon and her mother came into her line of vision as she and Halwyn took their places at the dinner table. Simon’s gaze flickered over her, and her skin erupted in goosebumps. His eyes flashed hatred at her. If she had been faltering in her efforts to gain control of the trust, he reminded her with just a glance why she had set this course of action.

She’d get through this dinner, and the ceremony. And then the countdown would commence.

It was her wedding day. Grace approached it with equal measures of gratitude, anxiety, and trepidation. She glanced in the cheval mirror while Jasmine and Colleen fussed over her wedding gown. This was the day. And this was her wedding dress. Tears formed, and she blinked quickly to keep them at bay.

“Aye, lass. If anyone deserves to have teary eyes, it’d be yourself,” Colleen whispered to her. “Every bride cries on her wedding day.”

Grace said nothing. Best to let Colleen think she was overcome with joy. A show of anxiety at this point would not be good. She smiled instead.

Jasmine stood up from her crouching position at the hemline of the dress. “Yes, I pronounce the dress finished and you’re ready for your big day. Shall we be off?”

Grace exited the manor house and held Jasmine’s hand as she walked toward the waiting carriage. “Thank you, Jasmine, for creating such a lovely gown for me.”

“You’re a beautiful bride. Halwyn is a lucky man.”

When Grace arrived at the carriage, she gulped and then took a deep breath. Simon was waiting to assist her into the carriage, where her mother already waited. The Fitzpatricks’ faithful driver, Robert, would drive the horses and carriage to the church, several miles away. She attributed the pit in her stomach to the marriage she was going to agree to within the hour. She studied Simon’s face as he helped her up the steps and into the carriage. He avoided her direct eye contact. The pit in her stomach grew into a yawning chasm. She choked back the fear Simon’s mere presence gave her.

“Mother,” she greeted the woman. Sophie glanced up from her lap, where she had been studying her small reticule, embellished with hundreds of crystal beads of the same color as her gown.

“Daughter,” she replied with a nod of her head.

Grace tried to smile. “Glad we got that sorted out, anyway.”

Sophie straightened as the carriage lurched under Simon’s weight as he entered and sat next to her. Sophie turned her eyes to her daughter. “No sass, Grace. I won’t tolerate it. Not today of all days. I haven’t seen you much at all over these past weeks, since you’ve been hiding out at the Fitzpatrick house, doing God knows what with your intended. It’s appropriate to remind you who your mother really is. And it’s not Charlotte Fitzpatrick.”

“I’m well aware of who my mother is. Believe me, you’ve been uppermost in my mind.”

Sophie smoothed out the skirt of her new pastel blue gown, which had also been created by Jasmine. She straightened out the rows of lace dripping from the elbow-length sleeves, and tried to redirect the conversation. “Simon, don’t you think our Grace is lovely today?”

Grace gritted her teeth as Simon’s gazed raked over her. “I will never be ‘his’ Grace, Mother.”

Simon’s eyes locked on hers. “That is something we both agree on, Grace. I may call you my daughter in public, but in my mind, you will never be mine. Remember that for the future.”

The carriage pulled away from the house and began its dusty journey to Hempstead and the church. This trip was going to be endless, despite the fact it was only several miles in length. Grace set her jaw and stared at Simon for several moments. He was anxious. Or nervous. She’d had a bad feeling ever since he helped her into the carriage. What was he planning at this late hour? Surely they’d arrive at the church on time and in good condition. After all, it was only a few miles. But she’d breathe a whole lot easier when they rolled up in front of the church. In this carriage, she was a virtual prisoner.

Both she and her mother jumped when Simon suddenly stood and banged on the ceiling of the carriage. “Stop! Stop the carriage! My daughter’s about to be ill! Hurry and open the door!”

Grace and her mother exchanged worried glances as the carriage slowed and came to a halt. It was a trick, but she didn’t have a clue what Simon was thinking. And without any clues, she had no way to counter his moves.

He pulled a gun out from his waistcoat as the door to the carriage opened.

The chasm in Grace’s stomach became an abyss and she let out a scream to warn Robert.

Simon lurched out the door of the carriage and Grace followed.

“What are you doing, you crazy man?”

She tried to grab Simon’s arm, but the tension of the moment, and his desperation, gave him superhuman strength and he wrenched his arm free. He brandished the gun over his head before he trained the firearm on Robert, who was pointing a gun back at Simon. At the same time, he grabbed Grace, wrapping his arm around her neck and hauling her in front of him.

“I am doing what I have to in order to get the fortune that is rightfully mine.” His hot breath scorched the side of her face. “You thought you were such a clever girl, coming up with your scheme and involving Halwyn, but I’m smarter than the both of you.” He turned to Robert. “Drop your gun, man. You don’t want to hurt ‘the bride,’ do you?”

Robert put his hands over his head, dropping his gun when Grace became Simon’s shield.

Grace could smell Simon’s desperation in the form of nervous sweat. As he held her up against himself, her back dampened in his tight grip. Despite the heat of his breath on her face, she shivered in his grasp. He turned his attention to the driver.