Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (16 page)

Worthing’s eyebrow rose in curiosity. “A friend?”

“I will tell you no more than to say I expected to die, and I owe this person a debt of gratitude.” He would not ruin Miss Nelson’s reputation. Whether she wished to marry or to take another governess position, the lady had his well wishes. “I would like to find my attacker and discover who sent him after me.”

“I will ask Lowery to call on you in London. The baronet has access to information the rest of us only dream of.”

“You will stay the night?” Gabriel said as he stood.

Worthing rose slowly. “I do not take well to too many hours in the saddle. I suspect I am getting old.” He moved a bit stiffly.

Gabriel laughed easily. “Married life is making you soft, Captain.”

“Perhaps.” Worthing smiled widely. “But I would have it no other way.”

Gabriel clapped Worthing on the back. “Come. I will have Hinman show you to your usual room. We will dine and drink and reminisce about our golden days.”

“I am not that old,” Worthing said defiantly. “I can still take you with a sword.”

Gabriel laughed for the first time in weeks. “I have no doubt, my friend. No doubt whatsoever.”

*

His aunts would arrive tomorrow from their respective homes, and as a large party, they would leave for London on Thursday. Anxious to return to his wife and son, Lord Worthing had departed at dawn. Gabriel had waited until after his breakfast to order his horse. “I will not return until late,” he instructed Mr. Sanders as the man tied a simple knot in Gabriel’s cravat.

His valet kept his eyes on his creation, but he said, “Will you call on the lady, my Lord?”

Gabriel hated the fact his intentions were so obvious. “Beware, Mr. Sanders,” he said irritably. “Do not overstep your duties.”

“A good valet keeps abreast of the latest gossip so he might advise his master,” the man said smugly. He reached for Gabriel’s riding jacket.

Despite his irritation, Gabriel actually found Sanders’ newfound familiarity refreshing. Although he had always appreciated Sanders’ efficient handling of his duties, it was only since the man had taken the lead in discovering information on Grace Nelson that Gabriel had valued Mr. Sanders’ versatility. Gabriel corrected, “A good valet keeps abreast of the latest gossip involving those his master is likely to encounter.”

“Then you do not plan to ride to Lancashire?” Sanders spread the material across Gabriel’s shoulders.

Gabriel sighed heavily. “She does not wish to see me.” It hurt his pride to admit his need to see for himself that his Grace had chosen a life separate from him.

“Then why make the journey so soon after your injury?” Sanders asked matter-of-factly.

Gabriel shrugged. “I cannot explain it.”

A long silence held between him and his trusted servant. Finally, Sanders said, “I will see Balder has been readied. Your mount has had a long rest. It will do him good to stretch his legs.”

Gabriel nodded his agreement as he reached for his gloves. “I assume you have prepared my wardrobe for the Short Season,” he said to change the subject.

“With your permission, my Lord, I will send a note to your tailor for two new waistcoats and several accessories to be delivered to Fugol Hall.”

Gabriel shot one last glance in the mirror. “I bow to your expertise. Just inform Mr. Thomas of the purchase so he will be anticipating the expense.” With that, Gabriel set out to say “farewell” to Grace Nelson. After all, he had been robbed of those moments when she had departed the Scottish inn with a stranger.

*

She had heard from Mrs. O’Boyle. A position had become available. She could begin her duties in a little over a fortnight. Grace did not like the idea of leaving Mercy behind, but she would be glad to be free of Geoffrey’s tyranny. Even a subservient position in another’s household would be preferable to the tension that existed at Foresthill Hall. Her younger sister had implemented a schedule that allowed Mercy to avoid Geoffrey throughout most of the day. The Foresthill staff had adapted to her siblings’ very different lifestyles.

It was not as if Grace placed blame on Mercy. Her sister had discovered a means to survive a “bachelor’s” household. Geoffrey thought nothing of exposing, not only Mercy, but also the Foresthill female staff, to the worst of his acquaintances. Several maids had been dismissed when they had reported their pregnancies to the housekeeper. When their brother hosted his gatherings, two maids slept in Mercy’s room to protect her sister, as well as the young servants.

“You are fortunate,” Mercy said after Grace had announced she would be departing soon. “You shall escape again.” They gathered autumn flowers for the drawing rooms’ arrangements.

Grace said testily, “It is not much of an escape to be at another’s beck and call.”

Mercy sat heavily on a stone bench. “I cannot stay here,” she confessed. She took Grace’s hand and tugged her older sister down beside her. “I do not mean to sound resentful. Truly I do not. Yet, I cannot help but to feel your desertion. I wish you could stay always, or we could go away together.” Tears misted Mercy’s eyes. “Sometimes I fear for my life.”

“Geoffrey will not hurt you,” Grace assured. Although Mercy had described several of their brother’s escapades, Grace had not witnessed their brother doing anything more than drinking too heavily and playing cards with several of the locals until late into the evening.

Mercy pointedly turned from Grace. “You doubt me.” She stood and walked away several steps. “It is pure debauchery, Grace,” she declared. “And often Geoffrey is so deep in his cups he recalls nothing of what his companions do to the house. Often we wake to find another of papa’s treasures ripped from the walls. If his friends can rob us blind while Geoffrey sleeps away his indulgences, how would he protect any of us from the worst of the mischief practiced in this house?”

Grace’s heart lurched with guilt. “I do not know what I can do to save you,” she confessed. “Even if I could send for you or if you found a position of your own, I doubt Geoffrey would permit you to leave.”

“Certainly not. I am worth a tidy settlement with Sir Lesley. Sometimes, I believe that fact is the only thing that protects me from Geoffrey’s companions. Our brother requires Sir Lesley’s agreement to repay his debts, and, obviously, Sir Lesley is paying for my innocence,” Mercy said with the earnestness that peppered much of her sister’s speech. Grace cursed her father for his foolishness. His decision to ride break neck in a Society hunt had sent Grace into a life of perpetual spinsterhood and had robbed Mercy of the “wonder” that had once marked the girl.

“We shall find a means,” Grace said softly.

Mercy responded defiantly, “I shall not be a pawn in Geoffrey’s games. When the best life has to offer me is Sir Lesley Trent, then I reject life’s plan. I shall make my own way. If that day comes, Grace, I shall find a means to contact you, but you must promise never to divulge my whereabouts to Geoffrey.”

“I promise.”

“Excuse me, Miss Mercy,” a footman had appeared framed by the arbor. “Sir Lesley has arrived, and Baron Nelson says you are to entertain him.”

Grace noted Mercy’s determination falter, but her sister said, “My sister and I shall attend Sir Lesley in the garden.”

“Yes, Miss.”

To Grace, Mercy confided, “As Geoffrey wishes, I shall entertain Sir Lesley for now, but I shall never be the baronet’s bride.”

*

From the top of a rise, he watched her through the spyglass. Gabriel had hidden Balder behind a cluster of trees and had scaled the lower branches of a sturdy chestnut to secure a better view of the house. It was small, but had real potential; however, the manor house and grounds had, obviously, seen better days. When he had climbed onto his perch, Gabriel had not expected to actually see her, but shortly after his arrival, Grace and a younger woman had exited the patio doors and began to gather late blooms from the garden.

Although he felt absolutely foolish for spying on Grace from the branches of a tree, Gabriel was quite content to look upon her. It had been some three weeks since he had laid eyes upon her, and if he had permitted himself to acknowledge the loneliness he had felt, Gabriel would have realized how desperate he had been to see her. Without the hair pomade and with a softer style, he enjoyed the way the golden wisps framed her face. Her hair was lighter than what he first thought., but it still contained those reddish brown strands. He could see her countenance magnified by the glass, and he marveled at the creamy texture, with a hint of sun kissed cheeks. She stared off in his direction, as if she looked directly into his eyes, and Gabriel felt his groin thicken.

She and the girl abandoned their tasks and set together in an arbor. Their discussion appeared intense, and he wished he could protect Grace from anything unkind. Although she had rejected him by leaving before he could speak his piece, Gabriel still owed her a debt of gratefulness. Without her care, he would have died.

He sat back against the tree’s trunk to watch Grace more closely. The other female was quite attractive, but she was of no interest to him. Obviously, he had known women who possessed more comely features than Miss Nelson, but none who had held his attention. “You were from your head with fever,” he had chastised himself every time her image invaded his thoughts. “But it had taken only one look,” he corrected. One look into her countenance. In the middle of a busy inn yard. He had touched Grace’s lips with his thumb while he assessed her truthfulness, and Gabriel had believed he had seen into her soul. He had come to believe he knew her better than he did anyone else. In that moment, they had shared their loneliness and their desires.

A servant appeared, but the ladies did not retire. A few minutes later, a rotund, elderly gentleman made his bow. “Sir Lesley?” Gabriel wondered aloud. “God, I hope not. Grace deserves better than a settled marriage.” He felt even more awkward than he had previously. Obviously, in this matter, he had acted like a lovesick schoolboy. A fact which rubbed against his normally reticent nature. He had once had a friend at university who would walk up and down the street outside the London townhouse of Lady Joanna Saxby. So besotted with the girl, the fellow wore out several pairs of boots with his determination to be near Lady Joanna. Gabriel felt nearly as foolish as had that school chum when the lad learned Lady Joanna had been betrothed at birth to another. Now, as Gabriel looked upon the man who could claim Grace, Gabriel realized how much he despised the idea. He would like to storm the gardens and ride off with Grace Nelson.

Yet, the man gave Grace only a perfunctory greeting. The stranger’s attention fell upon the girl. “Interesting,” Gabriel noted. “Perhaps, Mr. Sanders erred in his investigation.” Gabriel looked closer at the other female. Through the glass, he saw nothing of a familiar look about the young woman other than her eyes. In that manner, she resembled Grace. “A relative?” he continued to analyze aloud what he observed.

Grace stepped behind the couple as if her role was to serve as a chaperone. Some part of Gabriel breathed easier, but another part wished to throttle the man for not seeing Grace as the superior choice. “What a total bumbler you are,” he chastised as he took one last look at her. “You cannot have her, so wish Grace Nelson well,” he told himself. He slowly lowered the glass. “You told yourself you simply wished to know for certain she had returned to her home, and she was content.” Placing the cylinder in the hook on his inside jacket pocket, Gabriel began to climb down from the tree. “Go on with your life. Grace Nelson is not for you.”

*

Grace had taken no more than a half dozen steps before her brother appeared on the patio to greet Sir Lesley. Over the past few weeks, she had observed Geoffrey repeatedly fawning over the baronet. Her brother must truly be short of funds if he courted a man he had once called a “lecherous simpleton.”

“Ah, Sir Lesley,” Geoffrey called as he joined the baronet and Mercy some ten feet separate from where Grace stood. “What a glorious day for a walk in the gardens.” Geoffrey offered the obligatory bow.

Grace watched closely. She had attempted to reason with her brother regarding Sir Lesley’s pursuit of Mercy. The man was nearing his fiftieth birthday, and Sir Lesley’s health had to be in question. If Mercy went through with the arrangement, her sister would likely be saddled with the man’s children from the baronet’s second marriage. And where would Mercy find herself then? The baronet’s eldest son, Mathias Trent, would not likely welcome his father’s third wife and his half brothers and sisters when he accepted his tenure as the baronet. Yet, despite the multitude of reasons Grace had presented, Geoffrey had refused to change his mind.

Lost in her thoughts, it had taken Grace a moment to realize Geoffrey introduced his companion to Sir Lesley. As her brother stepped to the side, her vision line cleared, and Grace looked upon the countenance of a man she had last seen a month prior at Mr. Bradshaw’s inn. The place where she had left her heart.

“And this is my eldest sister,” Geoffrey was saying as she schooled her reaction.

“Miss Nelson,” the man bowed. “It is a pleasure to have your acquaintance.”

What should she do? The man’s countenance was the one she had sketched as she hid from sight behind the room’s draperies. Did he recognize her? And what connection did the stranger, known to her as Jonah Wright, have to Geoffrey? Stumbling through the words, she said, “Please accept…accept my apology, Sir. With the distance…I did not catch your name.” She offered a belated curtsy.

The man’s lips twitched in amusement. “I have been called many names, Miss Nelson, but my intimates call me Lord Spectre.”

Although she had not offered it, the man reached for her hand and brought the back of it to his lips. Grace swallowed the dread that coursed through her veins. The stranger upon whom she had spied outside Lord Godown’s quarters was certainly not a gentleman, but Lord Spectre spoke with a cultured tongue and a slight accent, and although a bit presumptuous, his manners were acceptable. “I fear my brother has not previously acknowledged the acquaintance, my Lord. You must forgive my awkward greeting.”