Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (29 page)

“The governess sent everyone from the room and gave the child cider vinegar. Within an hour the girl had made a dramatic recovery. Lady Brant is singing Miss Melsont’s praises.”

Gabriel relaxed. “Then everything is as it should be.”

Abbott added with a nod of camaraderie. “Everything is as it should be for the Brants, but I would not mind meeting Miss Melsont in a darkened passage.”

*

Although he kept a careful eye on Lord Abbott’s comings and goings, for three days, Gabriel had purposely avoided Miss Nelson. Even when she escorted the children to the drawing room for their daily audience with Lady Brant, Gabriel had excused himself from the room on some false pretense. He still held more questions than answers where the lady was concerned. Yet, she wished to slip into “nothingness,” and he would permit it. He had made the decision to meet his obligation to his title. He would see Miss Nelson once more before he departed from Clement Hall. He would wish the lady well and renew his offer to financially reward her for her assistance in Scotland. Although Gabriel still thought her too friendly with those who had set themselves against him, he could not reconcile the image of his caring angel as being a cold-blooded killer. Gabriel would listen to his instincts, and they said Miss Nelson was not his enemy.

“You asked to see me, my Lord.”

Gabriel rose from the chair where he sat reading a historical tome. “Yes, my Dear. Please join me.” He extended his hand, and the lady slipped her fingers into his open palm. Closing his hand about hers, Gabriel led Miss Haverty to a nearby chaise. Settling her among the loose pillows, he took the seat beside her. “I assume you understand my purpose in seeking your company.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The whispering had returned, and he bit his tongue to swallow the reprimand that sprung to mind.

Gabriel reached for her hand, and a granite stone knotted his stomach. He held no delusions. Miss Haverty would marry him for his fortune. The money he would settle on her family would provide the cash Mr. Haverty required to cover his poor investments. Gabriel would provide the man with some much-required advice. A deep breath did little to relieve his angst, but he continued with his well-practiced proposal, ending with, “Please place me from my misery and say you will make me the happiest of men.”

It bothered him she had yet to look him in the eyes, but the lady said, “It would be my honor, my Lord.”

Gabriel smiled. He had won the lady’s hand. Once they spoke their vows, he would have saved the entailed properties. He slipped his mother’s ruby ring upon Miss Haverty’s finger. Somehow, it appeared foreign upon the lady’s dainty hand. Although it fit her finger perfectly, Gabriel could not shake the idea his mother would not be please. “Perhaps, we can make the official announcement at the Brants’ Winter Ball,” he suggested.

Only three days away, the ball would be the climax of his time in Lincolnshire. Starting tomorrow, the Brants expected a house full of guests. Miss Haverty finally looked at him. “If it is your wish, my Lord.”

“Gabriel,” he said firmly. “My Christian name is Gabriel, and with your permission, I will call you Alice.”

She said with a sigh, “It may be awkward at first, but I shall try, my…” Miss Haverty blushed thoroughly. “I mean, Gabriel.”

He forced the frown from his countenance. Gabriel had thought hearing his name upon her lips would bring forth new depths to their relationship, but it left him feeling hollow. “May I beg the favor of a kiss, Alice?” he said dutifully. He had to accustom her to a shared intimacy.

Without a word, she nodded her acceptance. Gabriel lifted her chin with his fingertips and lowered his head. Her lips were soft and full, and her mouth tasted of strawberries; yet, the effort stirred nothing in him. Gabriel was accustomed to kissing a woman who responded to his touch, but Miss Haverty simply pressed her lips to his. No emotional connection existed. Unable to tolerate her indifference a second longer, he lifted his mouth from hers. The lady kept her eyes closed longer than necessary before dropping her chin to hide what he thought must have been her own disappointment. “I suppose I should seek out my mother if you hold no objection, my Lord. She will be most pleased.”

“Of course, my Dear.” Gabriel stood and again extended his hand to her. “Permit me to escort you to your chambers.”

It was done, he thought as he wove his way through Clement Hall’s passages. However, none of it brought Gabriel succor. Entering his chamber, he glanced about the room, and with his next breath, the emptiness rushed into his lungs. This would be his life. Knowing intimacies with a woman who held no affection for him simply to produce the title’s required heirs. An unfilled room. An empty bed. A meaningless life devoid of vitality. Never knowing the kindness his friends had found with their marriages. Dropping into a nearby chair, he buried his head in his hands. “God, help me,” he groaned. “How will I survive this?”

*

Grace schooled her countenance when Lord Brant’s housekeeper had shared the news of Lord Godown’s proposal to Miss Haverty. Never once did she think a woman could continue to breathe–to go about her life–with a broken heart. Yet, she did. Nothing else had changed in her mundane existence except Fate’s finger had reached in her chest and had left a gaping hole.

“I am happy for them,” she managed to say as she sipped her afternoon tea in Mrs. Williams’ sitting room.

“I heard it from Mr. Sanders, His Lordship’s valet,” the housekeeper had declared with a confident attitude. “Lord Godown must marry immediately or risk losing his title. It seems the family doubted his return from the war and placed certain stipulations upon His Lordship’s ascension.”

Grace’s interest piqued. After what they had shared in Scotland, Lord Godown had hinted they would marry. Had His Lordship known of the provisions upon his title when he had spoken his words of flattery to her? Her heart screamed Gabriel Crowden had offered her honesty, but had he? Had he simply required a wife? Evidently. To anyone with eyes, it was apparent Lord Godown and Miss Haverty were a poor match. Yes, they complemented each other in looks, but the girl would never understand a difficult man, and Lord Godown was just that: a difficult man. “If that be true, Ma’am,” Grace said evenly, “then I worry for the success of such a joining.”

Mrs. Williams snorted her contempt. “Men and women of the aristocracy marry for all the wrong reasons.”

*

It was Friday before Gabriel cornered Grace in one of the house’s upper passages. He had taken note of her sharing afternoon tea with Brant’s housekeeper, and he had purposely waited for her return to the nursery. The additional guests for the ball had filled many of the empty chambers in his wing of the house, but this smaller wing remained relatively free of prying eyes.

When he heard her tread on the hall carpeting, Gabriel stepped into an empty chamber and waited for Miss Nelson to pass. With one swift movement, he caught Grace’s arm and pulled her into the room’s late afternoon shadows. He shoved her against the door and placed his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. “It is I,” he whispered into her ear and waited for her recognition.

When she stilled, Gabriel removed his hand from her mouth, but he blocked her escape with his body. “My Lord,” she protested. “What means this?”

“I will be leaving soon,” he said evenly. He liked the way her facial expression sobered with his news. “I thought we should finish our business before then.”

“We have no business, my Lord,” she hissed.

Gabriel leaned closer. “What of the debt I owe you for my life? I am a man who settles his obligations.”

Miss Nelson squirmed, but she held his gaze, an action Gabriel admired. His many dealings with Miss Haverty often left him feeling as if he repulsed his betrothed. With Grace Nelson, her body always welcomed his. Even when they were angry with each other. “Your debt is paid, Lord Godown,” she insisted. “I require nothing else in my life.”

“Yes,” he said sardonically. “You have a most appealing future.”

She raised her chin in defiance. “Neither of our futures appears bright.”

Gabriel smirked, “I am to marry a woman of good bloodlines and who is fair of face.”

As if to analyze his assertion, Grace tipped her head to the side. “And shall those realities make you happy, my Lord? If so, I shall gladly add my congratulations to those you have previously received.”

Her words stung. Was his discontent so obvious? “Who says I require your encouragement, Miss Nelson?” he said defensively.

“I suspect you are correct, Lord Godown.” He heard tears in her voice. “What would a marquise require of a plain bespectacled governess?”

She darted under his outstretched arm and reached for the latch, but Gabriel caught her before she could wrench the door open. “Wait, Grace,” he pleaded. “I do not want us to part as enemies.” He caressed her chin line with the back of his hand. “In the past, we have been more than friends, Grace,” he whispered huskily into her hair. Gabriel heard her quick intake. Noted the flush of her skin. “I would keep our acquaintance, Grace.” His thumb traced the lines of her mouth.

She mewed, “Please, my Lord.”

His mouth’s corners turned up in amusement. “Please what, Grace?” He lowered his head. “Please keep our acquaintance?” he taunted. “Or please kiss me?” he rasped. And then his mouth took hers in a heated duel for dominance. At the beginning, his kiss demanded her submission, but when Grace gave herself over to the moment, Gabriel relaxed into the complete perfection of kissing her. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, and her mouth opened to him. Surprisingly, when he delved into her mouth, Grace sucked the tip of his tongue until he moaned his approval.

With his body, Gabriel pressed her to the door. For the first time in weeks, he felt alive, and he wanted more. While he ground his erection against her leg, his hands palmed her breasts. “Come to London with me, Grace,” he whispered as he trailed a line of kisses down the column of her neck. “I will give you everything of which you have ever dreamed.”

He knew he had misspoken when she stiffened in his arms. She shoved at his chest. “Everything but your name, my Lord,” she hissed. “You shall never understand how some women do not dream of jewels and fine gowns. Some of us dream of smaller, happier moments.”

Gabriel’s hand dropped to his side, but he did not step away. “I offered…” he began, but a sharp hiss of air cut him short.

“Yes,” Grace said bitterly. “You offered, but your proffer made no sense. A governess cannot be a marquise. All she can be is your mistress. I do not wish to be your whore, my Lord.”

“Your crass choice of words, Grace, does not shock me half as much as your stubborn refusal to accept what I propose. You will want for nothing.”

She gave him a gentle push, and Gabriel stepped backward “As appealing as your proposition is, my Lord,” she said sarcastically, “I shall decline. My simple room in Lord Brant’s nursery is superior to a life of sin.” She reached for the door. “You see, Lord Godown, I want for nothing now.” With that, she was gone.

Gabriel stared at the door’s frame. What had happened to his usual self-control? He had meant to reward Miss Nelson for her kindness and then be rid of the acquaintance. Instead, he had lost all reason. Kissing her to abstraction and offering to make Grace his mistress! He let out an exasperated sigh. The faster he could return to Gossling Hill with his bride the better.

*

Grace raced through the hallways until she reached the safety of her small chamber. Tears streamed across her cheeks, and her knees buckled as she reached for the chamber pot under her bed. The tea and sandwiches she had shared with Mrs. Williams had not stood the test of the shame she felt for how quickly she had succumbed to Lord Godown’s touch.

Wiping her mouth violently, she cursed her foolish heart for betraying her reason. “My actions could have ruined everything,” she chastised as she rocked herself to and fro on the floor, where she still huddled. With pure regret, Grace’s eyes scanned her sparse surroundings. If her fortune held, she would spend the next decade under Lord Brant’s roof and then likely move on to another family. It would be a meager existence, but it would be an honorable one. “And I shall never see that dreadful man again!”

*

Gabriel thought if he had to smile at one more insipid fool who slapped him on the back and declared him the most fortunate of men his head would explode. Dutifully, he had stood by the Havertys through the first two hours of the ball. Unlike the evening meals he had endured for the past nine days, the wine flowed freely during the celebration, and Gabriel had partaken heavily of the grape. Anything to dull the pain of remembering how close he had come to ruining his opportunity with Miss Haverty. If the lady had discovered how he had thought to dally with Miss Nelson–of making the Brant’s governess his mistress, Gabriel was certain the Havertys would have demanded their daughter end their understanding.

He watched as Miss Haverty danced with Lord Abbott. Other than to escort Mrs. Haverty, as well as his hostess, through one of the sets, he had only deign to dance with his betrothed. Miss Haverty, on the other hand, had accepted the hand of some ten different gentlemen.

“Does not Alice dance divinely?” Mrs. Haverty declared openly.

Gabriel had been considering how young and naïve his betrothed appeared, and how old he was–perhaps, not in years, but absolutely in experience. “Miss Haverty is quite light on her feet.”

“And extremely accomplished,” Mrs. Haverty continued to sing her daughter’s praises.

Gabriel said a bit sarcastically, “I am already a convert, Ma’am.”

Mr. Haverty’s chest puffed out in pride. “Of course, you are, my Boy.”

Lord Abbott returned the lady to Gabriel’s side. He kissed her gloved knuckles and then bowed out. Gabriel still did not care for the man, but he appreciated how Abbott had conducted himself since Miss Haverty had agreed to be the Marquise of Godown.

Miss Haverty whispered, “If you hold no objection, my Lord, I would return to my quarters soon.”

“Do you feel poorly, my Dear,” he said with true concern.