Not by Sight (15 page)

“Really?” Grace said, fascinated with the possibility of including the detail in her next story. “Oh, there’s the Hall!”

Pulling the Daimler back out into traffic, she drove the few blocks to their destination. She parked the car on the shore side. “I don’t see many people about.”

“I imagine Mondays are slow compared to weekends.”

And no doubt he’d chosen today for that reason. “Would you like to go in?” she asked.

“This is not my adventure, Miss Mabry. But if you’ll kill the engine, I shall wait while you go inside and survey the sights.”

Grace stared at him. “Are you certain?” she said, amazed that he would stay alone in this strange place, unable to see, so she could amuse herself for a few minutes.

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself.”

She glanced at his hand now gripped against the leather seat. His other held fast to the inside door handle. Tenderness seized her as she realized the price he was willing to pay for her pleasure. She didn’t stop to think as she reached for his hand, hoping to ease his tension.

He withdrew from her touch. “Are you going or not?”

“I cannot,” she said, stung by his rejection.

“Why is that, Miss Mabry?” His muscled arms flexed. “I don’t require a nanny, if that’s your aim. I merely recall your wish to visit Margate. Since I’m in a position to grant that wish, I suggest you make the most of it. Otherwise, we can leave.”

“No.” She pressed the button to turn off the car’s motor. “I . . . I’m just surprised, and very grateful.”

“And I am grateful for your service to me.” He seemed to hesitate, then added, “I’ve grown to value your honesty and fortitude during our time together, Grace.”

His use of her given name caused a thrill of unexpected pleasure . . . followed by guilt. He didn’t yet know the whole truth behind their relationship. Should she tell him now?

“I won’t be long,” she said.
Coward.

The weight of her continued deception kept Grace from wholly appreciating the sights within Hall by the Sea. Still, the gardens were beautiful, and she watched how for a few pence an amusement ride, a “Sea on Land” machine, provided customers the experience of a sea-tossed boat ride. The menagerie held a variety of exotic animals, a few she’d seen at the London Zoo. Afterward she wandered through the shops and amusement vendors, her mouth watering with the smells of fried sausages, roasted nuts, and funnel cakes. Pausing at one vendor, she spied her favorite sugary treat—candy floss—and purchased two sticks of the white fairy-spun candy before returning to the car.

“The Hall was fascinating,” she called out, alerting him to her approach. She stopped beside his open window. “A bit like an indoor street carnival, only larger.”

“I expected you would enjoy the amusements,” he said. “And did you see the bear?”

“I saw several animals in the menagerie. Why?”

“Well, if we remain a while longer, you may get the opportunity to watch them walk the bear onto the beach.”

“Truly?” Again her imagination blossomed with story ideas. “Then we must stay, for I’d love to see the creature. And I’ve brought us each a dessert—a stick of candy floss.”

“Thank you, but it’s quite cumbersome with the mask. Be my guest.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “You know you can remove the mask. We are quite alone along this part of the shore.”

“Eager to get another look?” He leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped together between his knees.

“Actually I am.”

That caused him to sit up straight.

“You asked me during our first outing what I looked like,”
she said. “You wanted to envision to whom you were speaking. Now I wish the same courtesy. I want to see
you
, Lord Roxwood, not that dreadful mask.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, his posture rigid. Finally he said, “We cannot always have what we wish, Miss Mabry. I’m sorry.”

He was impossible! Grace swung around to glare at the sea, and the wire clippers she’d pocketed earlier slapped against her thigh. She went still. Would he let her take such a liberty and touch his mask?

She turned back to him. “I suggest a compromise.”

11

“What compromise?” Suspicion flooded Jack’s senses.

“Hold these, if you please.”

Two thin objects—wooden sticks—were thrust into his hands. He could detect the faintly sweet scent of spun sugar. Candy floss.

Jack felt her warm breath tickle the side of his neck as she said, “Now, if you won’t remove the entire mask, let me just cut away that awful steel mesh. I’ll clip the links—”

“No!” Apprehension twisted his insides. He began to sweat. The smell of the candy floss made him nauseous, and he shoved them at her. “Take these, now!”

“Please trust me,” she said softly. “I want to see you. I want . . .”

Her hand settled against his shoulder, and a shudder tore through him. Jack swallowed, barely able to breathe. “What do you want from me, Grace?”

The heat from her touch seeped through his jacket. Jack’s pulse pounded in his ears. Why had he brought her here? To grant her wish to see a new place . . . or was it more than that?

“I’ve seen the man without the mask,” she said close to him, evading his question. “He doesn’t frighten me.”

“I frighten others,” he said, recalling Violet’s reaction when she’d come to see him in hospital. The revulsion in her tone when they spoke on the telephone.

“I’m not like the others.”

No, you’re far more
, he thought. A woman he enjoyed being with each day, sparring wits with, being angry with. A woman who treated him like a man and not some freak, or worse, a victim.

“Will you trust me?” she whispered.

Jack held his breath. He wanted to—he longed to, in fact. It had been months since he’d allowed himself the touch of a woman’s hand, even longer for a kiss or an embrace.

“Jack?” As she said his name, he released the air from his lungs. He tried to imagine himself revealed to her. How would she react to the ragged scar on his cheek? His valet saw it daily, without seeming the least bit squeamish.

Temptation grew as he realized that without the mesh, he’d be able to smell the sea. He could enjoy the mouth-watering flavor of the spun sugar. And Grace . . .

Jack’s heart quickened. Would she carry about her the fragrance of perfume? Or smell of the earth, of hay and horses? Did he have the nerve to find out?

“Go ahead,” he heard himself say. He tensed as she began snipping away one by one the links that kept the mesh in place. Cool air soon assuaged his dampened cheeks, and he caught the strangely familiar scent of flowers. He edged closer to her, trying to determine the exact smell, but could not place it.

She still said nothing. As the silence ensued, Jack sat unmoving as though paralyzed, regretting his rashness while the seconds ticked off.

Then he felt her gentle touch graze his cheek alongside the
wound, the tips of her fingers soft and warm. He fought the urge to lean into them.

Abruptly she was gone. A moment later, the driver’s door opened. She slid onto the seat and closed the door. “I’ll trade you.”

He felt a stick of the candy floss plucked from his grasp and replaced with the wad of steel mesh.

“Candy floss was always my favorite as a child. Was it yours?” she asked.

She seemed unfazed. Jack eased back into his seat, dropping the steel into his lap before he pulled away a chunk of the spun sugar. “I’ve always enjoyed it, but my weakness is funnel cakes,” he replied. He popped the candy floss into his mouth, savoring the sugar as it dissolved on his tongue.

“I love funnel cakes, as well. There’s a vendor selling them in the Hall. Shall I go back and fetch you one?”

He shook his head, pulling away another hunk of the featherlight candy.

“The bear! Jack, I see the bear walking on the beach!”

He grinned and realized how good it felt. “I’d hoped you would get the chance to see Margate’s unusual spectacle.” He turned to her as he tore away another morsel of the candy. “Tell me, how shall you write about the scene in your novel?”

“Give me a moment,” she said.

Jack cocked his head and waited, anticipating her forthcoming narrative. He smiled again. It would undoubtedly be colorful as well as lengthy.

She began, “Breathing labored, the beast ambles along the beach behind his master, the chains around his limbs and neck dragging in the sand. As if he knows all eyes are amused by him, the proud and fearsome creature appears defeated, held captive by his inability to know his strength. He doesn’t realize he could break the chains at any time, overpower the one who holds them . . .”

Jack froze, the candy floss like plaster in his mouth. Was that how she saw him—some miserable circus creature? He tossed the confection out the window. “I’ve had enough, Miss Mabry. Please take me home.”

“Are you all right?”

Was the concern in her tone pity? He felt exposed and desperately wished he hadn’t let her remove the mesh. “Now,” he demanded, wanting only to retreat to the solace of his rooms.

———

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Grace couldn’t fathom what she’d said or done to cause his abrupt change in mood. She reached to touch his shoulder. “Are you angry I altered your mask? I only wanted you to enjoy being—”

“Normal?” He shoved her hand away. “Am I your new cause, then, Miss Mabry? Fix the mask and you fix the freak?” His well-formed mouth pulled back, exposing white teeth as he snarled, “I would have thought you got your fill inside the menagerie at Hall by the Sea—” He stopped, and Grace saw his throat work. More calmly he said, “Let us be clear. I do not want or need your pity.”

“I do not feel sorry for you one bit,” she said, wounded he would misconstrue her intentions. Yes, she’d planned to unmask him on this venture, but not for the reasons he imagined. Pity took no part in her wanting to see his smile or hear his laughter.

He was doing neither at the moment. “Nor do I wish you to be ‘normal,’ only to be yourself,” she said.

“Then your wish is granted.” His sarcasm was back in full force. “On both counts.”

“Oh, why are you so obtuse?” Grace tired of fencing words with him. “You are not the sum of your scars, sir. You are simply Jack Benningham, Lord Roxwood, warts and all!”

An unexpected smile formed on his lips. “My, my, Miss
Mabry, what would Reverend Price say about that temper of yours?”

“I never had one until I met you.” She huffed out a breath. “You do manage to bring out the worst in me.”

That produced a chuckle from him, and just as she’d been at the costume ball, Grace was arrested by the beauty of his smile. Her heart beat faster. “You have very white teeth,” she said, before she could stop herself. He was still a handsome man, despite the mask covering his eyes. Lean-faced, he had a strong jaw with just the tiniest dimple at its center, directly below the well-sculpted mouth. Her hands had brushed against those lips as she removed the links from his mask, and she’d felt their firmness, her senses teased by the warm scent of his breath as she worked.

She didn’t care if removing the mesh made him angry. She preferred this view of him, a man whose features she could readily identify. She then realized he was clean-shaven. “Do you handle your own razor?”

“My valet takes care of it.”

“So, you allow
him
to see your face,” she said, hurt that he would allow a servant what he’d refused to show her. “Does the sight of you throw him into paroxysms of terror?”

“He sees only what you see now.”

The rest of him remained a mystery, then. “The only ‘freakish’ thing about you is the vile mask,” she said. “You could take it off. I’ve even brought a hat for you to wear, just in case.”

Since she’d expected him to rage, his weary tone surprised her. “Why do you insist on trying to save me, Miss Mabry?”

Because you refuse to save yourself.
“My reasons merely stem from curiosity,” she said instead. “I’ve been in your employ eleven days already, and as I’ve told you, I want to see with whom I’m speaking. Do you think it unreasonable?”

“No, not unreasonable.” He sighed. “Impossible.”

“Why?”

“Miss Mabry, I’d be a liar if I told you I didn’t enjoy your company. You’ve got intelligence and your honesty is refreshing. You’re also a good driver. And I’m certain one day you will make a splendid novelist. But you are innocent to the ways of the world and its ugliness. Trust me when I say, you do not want to see this face.” He turned away.

“I do!” She reached for him again and felt the muscles of his arm tense. “I have seen you. In the hedge maze, remember? I am not naïve, just curious to know you better. You are not what they say—”

“You don’t know what I am.” The lines at his mouth conveyed more frustration than anger. “Now, please do not press me further.”

Grace felt as though she’d lost some important battle. Heart aching, she threw away the rest of her candy floss and exited the car to crank over the engine.

The ride back seemed to take forever. She was relieved to finally drive past the gatehouse onto Roxwood’s estate. He didn’t say a word to her once the car halted and he opened the door.

Grace watched him, tears brimming at her lashes. It seemed they must start over again.

The sun was hot as Grace took a break from her raking to stretch her muscles and gaze up at the clear morning sky. Breathing deeply, she imagined tasting the air, fresh and clean, so unlike the sooty odor of London in winter, or the insidious stench permeating parts of the city in summer.

How would she describe it to Jack?
The air tasted of
sunshine and freshly mown grass . . .

As if he would listen, she thought with a pang as she returned to the task of spreading cut hay. After Monday’s debacle at
Margate, she’d called for him yesterday. Knowles had announced he wasn’t up to an outing. The butler actually looked sympathetic, an expression foreign to his rough features.

No, she’d gone too far in removing the steel mesh. He’d been angry with her afterward, believing her attention to him stemmed from pity, the furthest thing from the truth.

Grace paused again with the rake. She
did
like being with him, and more than just a little. She certainly noticed when she was not. And though she enjoyed the company of her WFC sisters, being with Jack made her feel different. Her senses became heightened, her pleasure more intense as they bantered with each other and played the guessing game. The realization that he might never send for her again made her feel hollow inside.

Should she return to the manor and apologize?

“Penny for your thoughts,” Clare called to her, manning a rake just a few yards away. “Missing the Daimler?”

Grace looked up and forced a smile.

“He’s engaged, you know.” Clare bent back to the task of spreading hay.

“I’m well aware of that,” Grace said, annoyed at her friend’s keen perception. “But I hurt his feelings terribly the other day and I wish I knew a way to make it up to him. Engaged or not, Clare, he’s still a human being.”

“Be careful, Grace,” Clare said.

“Don’t worry. Really, it’s just that we’ve grown accustomed to one another. I don’t know if you could consider us friends. He’s my employer and I’m his chauffeur.”

A smirk formed on Clare’s lips. “Of course you are.” She raked out another pile of hay. “Just don’t get hurt.”