Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (11 page)

Pointedly, he released her and motioned to the chair Grace had recently vacated. When he pulled a chair close, he said, “Tell me your latest set of lies.”

Grace swallowed hard. When her brother was on one of his binges, he was dangerous. “I…I left…my position with the Averettes,” she said hesitantly.

“You were dismissed?” he accused.

“No…no.” Grace attempted to soothe his anger. “Lord Averette has departed for the Continent…and…and the viscountess…has taken Gwendolyn to the north…to live with her grandparents.” She glanced about the room to assure no one attended to their conversation. “Lady Averette provided me a glowing recommendation.” She gently caught her brother’s hand in hers. “I thought to return to Lancashire for a few weeks. To visit with you and Mercy while I seek another position. Surely you will welcome me for a brief visit.”

For the first time since finding herself in her brother’s arms, she wondered how he came to be at this inn at this time. “That depends,” Geoffrey said coldly, “on what you are doing in this inn. It is well past the last departure, which means you must have taken a room.”

Grace fought the guilty heat rising to her face. “I…I became ill on the journey,” she said unconvincingly. “I had no choice but to stay. This is the first day I have come downstairs since my arrival.”

“And Bradshaw let you a room?” her brother asked suspiciously.

“He thinks me a lady of title,” she confessed.

Geoffrey Nelson snarled, “Likely been spending time with some know-nothing you met on the coach.”

Although his accusation held some truths, Grace took real offense at any words that disparaged Lord Godown. “First, it is beyond the pale that you think so little of your sister,” she said defiantly. “Secondly, if I were with a gentleman, it would be my choice. I am three and twenty and earn my own way in the world.”

“Then you admit your wantonness,” her brother countered.

“I admit no such thing!” Grace prayed Geoffrey did not demand to see her room. If her brother knew she had spent her time with the Marquis of Godown, he would demand His Lordship marry her immediately. Geoffrey would wish the connection and another source of income. She would not permit her family to become an impediment upon Lord Godown’s title. “I explained what occurred. You may believe me or not.” Her chin rose in a dare.

He straightened his cravat. “Not,” he said emphatically. “But we shall settle this at home. Retrieve your belongings. I will bring the phaeton around.”

“So far in a phaeton?” she asked suspiciously.

He stood triumphantly. “You may have pretended to be a lady, but you are nothing more than an ill-used governess. A phaeton ride will be more than adequate for the likes of you.”

Grace followed him to her feet. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “I am thankful to have my loving family so close. Eight hours of your company shall be gratifying, Geoffrey.”

“You have not seen nor heard the end of this matter,” he said to her retreating form.

She paused in mid stride and spoke without turning around. “I shall be prepared to depart within a quarter hour.” With that, she scurried up the stairs, but Grace purposely paused on the landing to make certain Geoffrey had not followed her. Watching carefully, she saw his profile as he exited the main room. Breathing easier, Grace turned quickly toward the room she shared with Lord Godown.

Entering quietly, she was relieved to find he slept. Rushing about the room, she threw her sparse belongings into her portmanteau. She buried her memory pages and her sketch of Lord Godown in the bag’s bottom. Grace scribbled a farewell note and placed it and her sketch of Jonah Wright on the bed beside where His Lordship lay. Catching her pelisse to her, she kissed her two fingers and touched them to his blonde curls. “I shall never forget you,” she whispered. Then she slipped from the room. Catching the maid working in the next room, she asked the girl to check on Lord Godown when she finished her other chores.

At the bottom of the stairs, Grace waited in the shadows until Mr. Bradshaw reentered the kitchen before she surreptitiously made her way along the entrance hall and emerged into the chilly morning. Despite the dampness clinging to the trees and the grass, she inhaled deeply and tilted her head back to permit the weak sun to touch her face. She had missed the feel of nature’s finest on her cheeks.

“Must I wait on you all day?” Geoffrey said sharply.

Grace opened her eyes to see her brother waiting impatiently beside a flashy red carriage. Immediately, she wondered how her wastrel brother could afford such a conveyance. Her eyes settled on where he stood. Inside the inn, she had not noticed the fine cut of Geoffrey’s clothes. Her brother had likely spent more on his boots than she made in a year. Picking up her shabby luggage, she made herself walk proudly toward where a boy held the horse’s head. She may be a lowly governess, but the most magnificent man of her acquaintance had thought her pretty.

“What puts that smile upon your lips?” Geoffrey demanded as he supported her to the seat.

Grace glanced tentatively to the inn. “I was just considering how pleasant it should be to see Mercy again.”

Her brother snorted contemptuously. “I should never have permitted you to drive our bargain. It would have been more economical to have sent Mercy away and kept you.” He handed her the portmanteau upon which she would rest her feet. “I must manage a dowry for our sister. If you had remained, I would not have known the expense.”

Grace bit her tongue to keep from announcing the Marquis of Godown thought her handsome enough to consider proposing. “Then it is your ill fortune I am the first born.”

Geoffrey swung up beside her. “Truer words were never spoken,” he grumbled. He flicked the reins and sat the horse in motion. Grace’s heart ached with her leaving, but it was for the best. Gabriel Crowden deserved a woman of beauty and quality. She was neither.

Settling uncomfortably on the bench, Grace braced her position against the bumpy road. She would hold herself proud. Lord Godown had taught her as much. She glanced once more toward the inn. A graying structure where she had spent the most extraordinary days of her existence.

Then she saw it. Saw him. From her eye’s corner, she saw Geoffrey nod to a man lurking beside the building. A man wearing a sling. The same man whose sketch she had drawn. Lord Godown was in danger. “Stop!” she screeched. “Please stop!” She considered jumping from the coach as her brother flicked the whip to set the horse to a cantor. Grace swung around to see the man reenter the inn. “Oh, God!” she clawed at Geoffrey’s arm. “You must stop!” She half stood and prepared to jump, but Geoffrey jerked into the seat.

“Sit still!” he ordered roughly.

Grace jerked away from him and launched herself toward the opening in the carriage’s side, but once again, her brother’s reflexes caught her. “You do not understand,” she pleaded as she attempted to escape.

But that was one of the last things she recalled. Geoffrey yanked her to a partially seated position, and then with a growl of irritation, he cuffed her hard on the chin. For a moment–the beat of two heartbeats, Grace clung to consciousness before everything faded to black. Grace fought the darkness. Her mind told her if she did not open her eyes Gabriel Crowden could lose his life, but the urge to succumb to the sleep was too strong. Her eyes fluttered open one last time to see a satisfied smirk on Geoffrey’s lips, as well as a flash of black when a coach traveling in the opposite direction passed them. The fine coach was her last sensation as she slumped heavily against her brother’s shoulder.

“Are you certain this is the correct establishment?” the lady asked as the footman assisted her to the ground.

The man reached into the carriage to support her traveling companions. “Yes, Your Grace. I asked inside upon our arrival.”

“Then my nephew is here?” The woman involuntarily snarled her nose as she glanced up at the simple building.

“According to the innkeeper, His Lordship has taken a room, Ma’am.” The footman lifted the last of the three ladies to the ground before restoring her cane to her gloved hand. The lady offered a nod of gratitude.

The Duchess shook her head in disbelief. “Come, Roses,” she said as she led the way. “We must understand the meaning of this missive.” She waved a note in a commanding gesture.

The other two aristocratic ladies followed their self-assured sister into the darkened entranceway. The innkeeper hustled forward to greet them. He bowed lower than necessary and nearly lost his balance, and Rosabel Murdoch, the Dowager Duchess of Granville, fought the urge to roll her eyes. Those not of the nobility knew nothing of comportment. “My good man,” she began before the stocky proprietor could commence his fawning, “It is my understanding my nephew has taken rooms in this establishment.” The smells of grease and stale smoke irritated her senses.

The innkeeper bowed again. “The Hawk and Gun has known the honor of His Lordship’s patronage,” the man toadied.

“I would see Lord Godown immediately,” the Duchess intoned authoritatively.

“Of course, Yer Grace.” A third bow followed. “This way, Ma’am.”

Rosabel turned to her waiting sisters. “Can you maneuver the steps, Lía?”

“I shall support her,” Lyn whispered.

Bel nodded her agreement. “Tell Mr. Sanders and the physician their assistance is certainly required,” she instructed softly.

“I understand,” Lyn replied. “As always, Lía and I know our parts.”

Bel’s eyebrow rose in concern. “You may take the lead if you wish. It is never my intention to slight either you or Lía.”

Lyn’s fingers stroked the back of Bel’s gloved hand. “You are the eldest and the natural leader. Lía and I hold different roles. Be off with you now. If the note proves true, Gabriel requires our assistance.”

Bel nodded again. They were the Three Roses: Rosabel, Rosalía, and Rosalyn. She was three years her sisters’ senior. Their brother, Renard, Gabriel’s father had made his worldly appearance after her and before the twins, Lía and Lyn. “Follow as quickly as possible,” she said with a soft smile. Turning on her heels, Bel followed the heavily winded man up the flight of stairs and along the dark corridor to a room at the passage’s end.

“His Lordship has rarely left the room,” the innkeeper explained as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Lady Godown finally made an appearance below stairs a bit earlier. Her first time to dine in the main room.”

Bel stumbled to a halt. “Her Ladyship?” she asked tersely.

Even in the dim light, she saw the innkeeper’s smile fade. “Lord Godown’s bride,” he said with a touch of curiosity.

Bel had tamed the infamous Duke of Granville. There was not a man alive who could out maneuver her. “I was unaware Lady Godown was in Scotland,” she said with a tilt of her chin.

“The marquis came looking for his bride,” the proprietor explained.

Bel bit back her response. “Lord Godown is most solicitous of his wife. Now, may I know which room my nephew occupies?”

The innkeeper led the way to the last door along the hall. “This one belongs…” It was Mr. Bradshaw’s turn to stop suddenly. “Hey, you there!” he sang out. “What be ye doing?” Bel could see a man standing in the open door of the room the innkeeper had indicated belonged to Gabriel.

“Nothing!” the stranger said emphatically. “Saw the door standing open is all.”

Mr. Bradshaw wedged his girth past the intruder. “I told ye before. Yer to stay away from His Lordship’s room.”

The stranger studied Bel up and down before he strode away toward the stairs. “Who was that man?” she asked as she stared at the retreating form.

“Some drifter who meant to make Lord Godown’s acquaintance.” The innkeeper glanced to where the stranger disappeared below. “Me wife did him a good turn. I suspect it be best if I run him off. I don’t approve of those who take advantage.”

For some reason, a shiver ran down Bel’s spine. “Why did my nephew not know the man was in his room?” Bel possessed more information regarding her kin’s time with the government than her nephew wished her to know. In reality, she had assisted him in securing his position with the Realm. Neither Gabriel, nor her brother Renard, had realized the one Gabriel called “Shepherd” had once been Bel’s beau. What worried her now was the fact that if Gabriel had his faculties, no stranger would have entered his room uninvited. With real concern, Bel said, “Perhaps, Sir, you might ask the two gentlemen who traveled in our second coach to join me.”

“Immediately, Your Grace.” The innkeeper exited quickly, and Bel stepped tentatively into the room. Nothing appeared amiss. Someone had rearranged the furniture, but everything else appeared normal. Bel had not often stayed at a public inn, but those she had seen had rooms sporting unpretentious furniture. This room proved her theory: a small table, two straight-backed chairs, a dresser with a mirror, a four-poster bed and stand, and a screen for privacy. Surveying the area, her eyes lit on the mirror. Then she saw him. In the reflection. The air rushed from her lungs as she scurried to his side.

Her beloved Gabriel, the spiting image of his father, lay propped against the bed’s pillows–eyes closed. Gingerly, Bel reached for him. Her eyes searched the tell tale rise and fall of his chest and was relieved to see he lived. Gently, she touched his shoulder. When Mr. Thomas had shone her the letter announcing her nephew was near death, Bel had wasted no time in rectifying such an odious prank; she had meant to prove it false. Yet, observing Gabriel’s pale skin, she regretted not having departed immediately. At least, he presents no fever, she thought as she stroked his bare shoulder.

“You have returned,” Gabriel said, as his eyes remained closed. Bel assumed he spoke in his dreams.

She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Gabriel. I am here, mon cher.”

“Grace?” His eyes fluttered open and closed.

“No, my love. It is Bel. We have come to take you home.”

Finally, his gaze fell on hr, and Bel knew when recognition arrived. “Tantine Bel?” he said in disbelief. “The tantes?”

“Downstairs, waiting for Mr. Sanders and the physician,” she assured. Bel lovingly brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. “You did not expect me to leave Lía or Lyn behind for such an important rescue?” She leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Oh, my darling, I am thankful you are not to leave us. The twins and I would be lost without you.”