The Devil's Necklace (19 page)

It was ridiculous. But as the evening progressed, he began to grow more and more restless. When Rafe stopped by on his way to the soiree and encouraged Ethan to join him, he went upstairs and began calling for his valet. Dressed in his evening clothes, he headed out with Rafe.

He thought that his sister, Sarah, and her husband might also be at Louden’s affair. The pair was in town this week, their eldest son finally over a slight discomfort of the lungs. Sarah and Jonathan had stopped by that afternoon to congratulate the newlyweds, Sarah clucking over Grace, knowing her brother well enough to guess the reason for his hasty wedding.

As the couple had departed, sharing their hearty good wishes, Sarah had pulled Ethan aside.

“You have married a marvelous young woman, Ethan. I cannot credit why you thought to lock her away in the country as you did.”

“It’s a long story,” he said darkly, stiffening at the censure in her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.” His sister’s pale eyebrows drew faintly together. She was tall, fine-boned and fair, with blond hair and bright blue eyes, a strong woman but undeniably gentle. Perhaps that was the reason he and Cord had always been so protective of her.

“Grace is with child,” she said. “Surely you are happy about it.”

“I wasn’t yet ready to be a father.”

“None of us are ever ready for parenthood, Ethan, and yet it is the greatest joy any of us will ever know.”

He made no reply. The child did not yet seem real to him. Only the subtle changes he saw in Grace’s body when he made love to her reminded him of what the future held. He still wasn’t sure how he would deal with a child whose veins ran with the blood of a traitor.

The musicians struck up a
rondele
and Rafe walked up beside him, returning his thoughts to the present.

“Your wife seems to be enjoying herself. Does she know you are here?”

Ethan’s gaze swung to Grace. She looked beautiful to night, in a sapphire silk gown that reminded him of the one he had taken off her the night they’d made love aboard his ship. The memory sent a hot rush of desire through his veins.

Bloody hell.

“She hasn’t noticed my arrival.” Not that she seemed to care. She was dancing, laughing, obviously enjoying her self. Ethan frowned as her dancing partner circled and he recognized Martin Tully, earl of Collingwood.

Rafe took a sip of his brandy. “Looks like Collingwood is sniffing after her again.”

“So it would seem.”

“Try to restrain yourself this time from dragging your wife off the dance floor. There is already enough gossip going round about the two of you.”

Ethan grunted, though his friend had a point. Ethan didn’t give a damn what the scandalmongers said, but it wasn’t fair to Grace.

Or at least so he told himself as he started toward her, his hands unconsciously fisting as the dance ended and the earl escorted her out the French doors leading to the terrace.

Ethan followed close behind them, spotting them near the balustrade beneath one of the torches that illuminated the garden. They seemed to be having a perfectly harmless conversation and yet Ethan’s blood went hot. He managed to muster a smile as he walked toward them, his limp a little more pronounced.

“Ah, there you are, my love.” He turned to the earl. “Lord Collingwood. I didn’t think to see you again quite so soon.”

“It was warm inside. Grace looked as if she needed a little fresh air. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Grace.
He didn’t like the sound of his wife’s name on the earl’s lips. “Why should I mind?” He flicked a glance at Grace. Her mouth looked tight, her chin raised as if she dared him to try to haul her out of there again. She wouldn’t go so easily this time, he could see. Still, reading the earl’s barely hidden desire for her and remembering the passionate lovemaking that had resulted the last time he had hauled her away, he was sorely tempted.

“Lord Collingwood asked one of the servants to bring us a glass of punch.” Grace looked past Ethan’s shoulder toward the French doors. “Here he comes now.”

A liveried servant carrying a silver tray walked up, and Grace and the earl each picked up crystal goblets colored red with a sweet fruit drink.

“Shall I fetch you something, my lord?” the servant asked, a young man with dark hair and black eyes.

“No, thank you. I came to see my wife home.”

Grace gave him a too-sweet smile. “That was kind of you, my lord. But I am not yet ready to leave.”

“I shall be glad to see you home,” Collingwood had the nerve to offer.

Grace turned to him and smiled. “My friends, Lord
and Lady Percy will take me home,” she was wise enough to say. “But I thank you, my lord, for your concern.”

“Perhaps you will save me another dance.” The earl cast Ethan a look of challenge as he bowed over Grace’s hand and Ethan’s jaw hardened. The arrogant bastard had more nerve that he thought. He had learned long ago not to underestimate an opponent and he didn’t intend to now.

Ethan gave the earl a warning half smile. “I’m afraid her ladyship’s card is full. And I believe I shall stay, after all.”

Grace looked up at him as if she could scarcely believe her ears.

Ethan silently cursed, unable to believe it himself.

Grace accepted her husband’s arm and let him guide her back inside the house. Across the room, she spotted Claire Chezwick and saw that she was grinning. Grace found herself smiling, too.

Ethan had come to the soiree. He had been jealous of Lord Collingwood. He had stayed at the party to keep an eye on her. Why would he do that if he didn’t care?

“They’re playing a waltz,” he said softly. “Would you like to dance?”

The corners of her mouth began to curve. “Will you promise not to drag me off to your lair?”

He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to take your chances.”

They danced and talked and the evening flew past. When they returned to the town house, Ethan made fiercely passionate love to her, then made love to her again. For the first time, he was there when she awakened and they made love in the bright rays of sun slanting in through the curtains.

Hope stirred inside her, and she allowed herself to believe they might actually have some sort of future together. That hope strengthened as they shared a leisurely breakfast and made easy conversation throughout the morning.

“I thought that perhaps you might like to go for a carriage ride in the park this afternoon,” Ethan said, amazing her with the offer.

“I should like that very much, my lord.”

“Ethan,” he correctly gently, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “I like it when you call me Ethan.”

Grace stared into his handsome face and her heart squeezed hard. “I should love to go, Ethan.”

For several seconds, they sat there staring at each other, then a knock came at the breakfast room door and Baines stepped into the morning room.

“You’ve a visitor, milord.”

Ethan flicked her a glance and set his linen napkin down beside his now-empty plate. “It’s early for company.”

“That is what I told him,” Baines said. “The man looks extremely disreputable. I tried to turn him away, but he was quite insistent that he speak to you so I showed him into your study. He says he was a member of your crew aboard the
Sea Witch.
”

Ethan pushed to his feet. “
Sea Witch?
Are you certain that’s what he said? Did he give you his name?”

“I believe his name is Felix Unster. He said that he was your second mate.”

Ethan shoved his chair back so hard it tipped over on the carpet. He strode out of the breakfast room, Baines at his heels, long strides carrying him down the hall to the study. Worried by the disturbance, Grace hurried after them. When she reached the study, she found the door
open, Ethan facing a big, burly seaman wearing duck pants and a striped shirt, a hard look on his face.

Grace froze where she stood in the doorway as Ethan approached the sailor.

“My God, man, I thought you were dead!” Ethan’s face broke into the widest smile she had ever seen. “How did you get out of prison? How did you manage to make your way back to England?”

Felix Unster did not return the smile. “I kilt meself a guard. I got tired o’ feeling the cut o’ the bastard’s whip. ’Twas mostly luck I got away.”

“How did you get out of France?”

“Made me way ta the coast, paid a smuggler to bring me ’ome. When I got ’ere, I found out ye’d cheated the grim reaper, too.”

“Anyone else get away?” Ethan asked, still smiling.

“Nary a man…’cept for Long-boned Ned.”

“Ned’s aboard my new ship, the
Sea Devil,
along with Angus McShane. They’ll be happy to see you, Felix.”

“Already seen ’im. Ned’s the one what told me the news.”

“What news is that?” A wary look crept over Ethan’s face.

“That ye married the daughter o’ that filthy traitor. The man what got the rest o’ yer men kilt by the bleedin’ Frenchies. Ye married the lit’l whore.” He spat at Ethan’s feet. “Yer no better than she is—no better than that whoreson, Forsythe. If it weren’t for all the years we sailed together, I’d kill ye for it.”

Standing just outside the open door, Grace swayed on her feet, feeling sick to her stomach. For an instant she thought she might faint. Across the room she could see the blood drain from Ethan’s face.

“Get out,” he said softly, the words carrying a note of warning she hadn’t heard since he had stolen her that night off the
Lady Anne.
“Get out and don’t come back. And keep your mouth shut about my wife or you’ll wish you had died in that prison.”

The burly man’s jaw turned to steel. Grace pressed her self back against the wall as he stormed out of the study, walking past without realizing she was there. Grace wished she weren’t, either, that she hadn’t heard the terrible words the second mate had said to Ethan.

For the first time she began to understand what he had done in marrying her. He had broken his own code of honor, broken the unspoken rules he had set for himself and his men. The crew of the
Sea Witch
were bound together by blood. Their deaths were his death. It was as if part of him had died that day on the ship.

And in marrying her, he had betrayed them.

She stepped into the doorway of the study, her heart aching for him.

“Leave me be,” he said, and the bleakness in his expression told her that the faint glimmer of hope that had begun to grow between them had died as surely as the men on his ship.

A
heat wave settled over the city, the days stiflingly hot and still, soot and dust thick in the air, making it hard to breathe. Summer settled over London and the pace of the city slowed.

The week of July twenty-second, two things happened.

Victoria Easton gifted her husband with a healthy baby boy.

And Ethan was called back to sea.

He stood up from behind his desk as Cord strode into the study.

“I heard you were leaving,” Cord said bluntly. “I thought I had better stop by if I wanted to see you before you were gone.”

“I figured Pendleton would tell you.”

“Hal told me, yes. He said he hated to ask but that some thing was happening with French fleet movements. He said Max Bradley would be going with you.”

“That’s right. Word just came in. We’ll be sailing the end of the week.” According to Max, the French were definitely on the move. The
Sea Devil
and its crew were
desperately needed. Ethan told himself he had no choice but to accept the mission.

And in a way, he was grateful to leave.

Since the morning of Felix Unster’s arrival, Ethan had stayed away from Grace. Still, he could feel her presence calling to him even when he couldn’t see her. On the rare occasion they chanced to meet, his heart constricted almost painfully. When he saw her on the terrace with Freddie, it was all he could do not to go to her, to draw her into his arms and simply hold her. He wanted her so badly he ached with it, yet he could not have her.

He looked over at Cord. “The
Sea Devil
is needed. My ship and crew can accomplish things that a ship of the line simply cannot.”

A muscle tightened along Cord’s jaw. “You’ve always been good at what you do. There is no question of that.”

Ethan ignored the faint edge in his cousin’s voice. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to stop by. I hear congratulations are in order.”

Cord’s expression softened. “Victoria has given me a son. I cannot tell you how pleased we both are.”

Ethan glanced away. He didn’t want to think about the child Grace carried. He didn’t want to think about Grace at all, but it seemed the only thing he was able to do. “I hope your wife is well.”

“Very well, thank you.” Cord’s golden eyes fixed on Ethan’s face. “And yours?”

He glanced away. “Grace is fine.”

“How would you know? According to Victoria, the two of you are barely speaking.”

“I have asked her maid to keep me informed. Her body is changing, of course, but she seems to be acclimating to impending motherhood very well. With excitement, even.” Hoping to head the conversation in a different direction,
he walked over to the sideboard and lifted off the crystal stopper of a brandy decanter. “How about a drink? I could certainly use one.”

“No, thank you.”

Ethan couldn’t miss the tension in his cousin’s deep voice. “You have something to say, you might as well spit it out.”

Cord straightened. “All right, I will. After your return from France, you told me you were retiring from the sea. You said you were looking forward to assuming the duties of marquess.”

“I said that, yes. Sometimes things change.”

“You’re married now, Ethan, about to become a father. Does none of that matter?”

“I have a duty to my country. I cannot simply ignore it.”

Cord’s hand slammed down on the table. “Dammit, man, you have a duty to your wife and the child she carries!”

Ethan stiffened. “You may be a few years older, Cord, but you’re still my cousin, not my father.”

“Your father would roll over in his grave if he knew the way you have behaved toward that young woman. I realize Grace is high-spirited, perhaps not the sort of woman you had in mind to wed. I know in the past she has done reckless things of which you disapprove, but—”

“Grace is beyond high-spirited. And she has more daring than any woman I have ever met. Grace is absurdly courageous, in fact. And she is reckless in the extreme, willing to put herself at risk for the sake of another, as she did when she helped her traitorous father. She is intelligent and brave and forthright. She is beautiful and generous and—” He looked up, a flush rising beneath
the bones in his cheeks as he realized how much he had given away.

Cord was staring at him as if he had never seen him before. “My God, you’re in love with her!”

Ethan tossed back his brandy. “Don’t be absurd.” But his hand shook as he set the glass down on the pie-crust table.

“Refuse the mission, Ethan. You’ve done your duty—more than done it. Stay here with Grace. She’s going to be a mother. She needs you here with her when her time comes.”

He’d thought of it, actually considered that perhaps someone else could take his place aboard the ship. It made him physically ill to think how badly he wanted to stay home with Grace. But failing his country in its hour of need just wasn’t something he could do.

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve given my word. I’m not going to break it.”

“If you return to sea, you’re risking more than your life this time. You’re risking any chance for a future with Grace. She’s your wife, Ethan. If you aren’t here when she needs you, how can you expect the two of you to have any sort of future together?”

“Whatever my feelings for Grace, they are overridden by the fact I am needed by my country. If I am lucky, the mission won’t take that long and I’ll be back in London before the baby arrives.”

“Are you certain you aren’t doing this to avoid dealing with the fact Grace is Harmon Jeffries’s daughter?”

Was he? Not entirely.

When he made no reply, Cord sighed. “For years, Grace didn’t even know who her real father was. It is a shame she ever found out.”

Ethan didn’t disagree. Perhaps if he hadn’t found out, things would be different.

He watched Cord leave, his cousin’s shoulders weighed down as if they carried the weight of the world.

Cord was worried about him.

Ethan thought it would be better if his cousin worried about Grace.

July turned into August. Grace could feel the baby moving now, the intriguing little kicks and flutters that never failed to excite her. In the weeks that Ethan had been gone, she had turned to the child in her womb for solace, preparing herself for what was to come during the remaining months of her pregnancy, decorating the nursery, buying a cradle and curtains and toys.

She spent a great deal of time with Tory and her newborn son, Jeremy Cordell, and Claire often joined them. Grace’s sister-in-law, Harriet Sharpe, arrived for a month-long visit, which renewed their friendship and helped to pass the days. Harriet had been spending a good deal of time with a wealthy squire named William Wentworth, who lived not far from Belford Park.

“We’re merely friends,” Harriet had said, but she had blushed when she said it. Grace was happy to see her sister-in-law out in the world again.

Other friends paid calls. Ethan’s sister, Sarah, stopped by whenever she and her family were in town. Even Martin Tully dropped by several times to pay his respects. Grace was careful not to encourage the earl and once the baby began to show she didn’t see him again.

She was feeling the effects of the summer heat when Tory stopped by unexpectedly one morning, her baby snuggled in her arms. He was an adorable little boy with
dark hair and bright blue eyes that Tory was certain would eventually change to his father’s golden brown.

It wasn’t Tory’s unexpected arrival, but the look on her face that set alarm bells off in Grace’s head. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Tory’s mouth thinned. “Nothing good. Let us go into the drawing room where we may be private.”

Grace’s heart filled with dread as she followed Victoria into the green salon and closed the door. “Is it Ethan? Has something happened to my husband?”

Tory shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.” She settled the blanket-wrapped baby down on the sofa beside her, tucking the light cover around his chubby legs. “It isn’t Ethan, it’s your father.”

“My father? You mean my real father?”

“Yes.”

Grace sank down on the sofa next to her friend. “What about him?”

“Last night, Colonel Pendleton paid a call at our house. He and Cord have been friends for a number of years.”

“Yes, I know. He helped you and Cord rescue Ethan from prison.”

“That’s right. Last night, I left the men to check on the baby and as I returned down the hall, I heard them talking. Apparently, your father was sighted in York some time back. Recently, he was reported to have been seen in Leicester. The authorities believe he is making his way back to London.”

Grace’s stomach tightened. “Surely they are wrong. Why would he risk himself by returning to the city?”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but the colonel believes it is true and I thought you should know.” Tory reached over and took hold of her hand. “Listen to me, Grace. If your father tries to contact you, you must refuse to see
him. If it is discovered you are the person who helped him escape, they will toss you into prison. You can’t let that happen. You have the baby to consider.”

“I don’t believe he is coming back. By now my father could be anywhere. He could even have left the country, perhaps made his way to the colonies.”

“That would certainly seem more plausible. Let us hope you are right.”

Grace prayed that she was. As Tory said, she had the baby to consider.

“Perhaps it is good that Ethan is gone,” Tory continued.

Grace knew what she meant. No one was more determined to see her father face the hangman than her husband.

“Perhaps, but…”

“But you miss him dreadfully, and you are worried about him.”

“I love him, Tory.” She sighed. “The morning Felix Unster came to the house, I finally understood the terrible conflict Ethan faces. He feels guilty for having survived when his men were killed. Beyond that, he was forced to marry the woman whose father he is certain is responsible for their deaths. Ethan feels that if he lets himself love me, it would be the final betrayal.”

Tory squeezed her hand. “Your husband is a difficult man. Perhaps in the time he is gone, he will be able to deal with the past and discover what is truly important.”

A lump rose in her throat. Grace prayed every day for that happenstance to occur. Now there were rumors of her father. She prayed the rumors would prove false and that her husband would return safely home.

The weeks dragged past, the August days hot and muggy. Grace tried not to worry about Ethan, but news
of the war wasn’t good. An armada of French battleships had broken through the blockade off the coast of Spain and an army of British warships sailed to meet them. Colonel Pendleton had personally paid a call at the house to bring word of Ethan, telling her that so far both he and his ship were safe.

But by the end of the month the papers were filled with stories of the great battle off the coast of Cadiz that had cost the life of England’s beloved Lord Admiral Nelson. Lists of casualties appeared in the
Chronicle
and Grace read every name with a sense of dread. According to reports, the battle at Trafalgar had been a glorious victory for England. Only five hundred British dead against five thousand casualties for the French.

Still, Ethan could be among those lost, and until she knew for certain, Grace could not rest.

Freddie was a comfort. At Ethan’s insistence, the boy had remained at the house to continue his education. Fascinated with the stars, he often joined her at the telescope in the evenings to study the heavens. Still, he was worried about his friends and insisted she read him any news of the war.

“The capt’n’ll be all right,” he said firmly. “’E’s a cagey one, ’e is. The Frenchies won’t get ’im this time.”

Grace prayed Freddie was right. If something happened to Ethan…

Her heart twisted.

Grace refused to consider the notion.

A stiff wind blew out of the north, whipping the ocean into a frenzy of whitecaps. The deck of the
Sea Devil
shifted beneath Ethan’s feet and he braced himself
against the roll and sway of the ocean currents. The canvas sails snapped above his head, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were on home, on returning once more to London—returning to Grace.

“What’s the matter, lad? Ye been starin’ out at the water for the past half hour.”

Lost in thought, he hadn’t heard Angus stroll up to the rail. “I’m worried about Grace and the child.”

Angus scoffed. “Women ha’ been birthin’ babes for thousands o’ years. The lass is strong and the child will grow strong, as well.”

“I wish I were there. Cord was right. I shouldn’t have left her.”

“Ye had no choice. Not and be able ta live with yerself.”

“What if I don’t get back in time and something happens? It’ll be my fault, Angus.”

Angus flicked him a glance. “’Twas obvious ye cared for the lass from the day ye brought her aboard. Have ye set aside the past, then? Will ye be able to be a true husband to the girl?”

Ethan stared out at the water. “I’ve treated her unfairly from the start. It’s taken me these weeks away from her to finally see the truth.”

“That ye love her?”

His fingers tightened on the rail. “Yes.”

“Does she know?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure myself.”

“Then ye must tell her.”

Ethan sighed into the darkness. “I can’t.”

“Why the devil not?”

“Because I’ve pledged to see her father brought to justice. It is a vow I cannot break.”

Angus didn’t argue. He understood that some things
were sacred. The debt a man owed was one of them. “Perhaps in time it will all come to an end.”

“I pray that it will,” Ethan said, wondering if it ever truly would.

“Excuse me, my lady.” Phoebe stuck her head through the open bedchamber door. “This just came for you.” She held out a folded piece of foolscap, sealed with a drop of red wax.

Grace frowned. It was mid-October. She was more than eight months gone with child, her belly round, belly but ton pushed out, the child riding forward and low—a sure sign, Tory promised, that the babe would be a boy.