Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (46 page)

After carefully questioning his aunts regarding the events leading up to their being taken upon the Sea Spray, Gabriel had paid a late night visit to Geoffrey Nelson. The baron had foolishly told Talbot of Grace’s traveling plans. Nelson’s drunken rant had nearly cost Gabriel the lives of his beloved aunts and Grace.

“Sign the papers,” he had hissed close to Nelson’s ear. Gabriel had used his fists on the baron. A lesson in humility.

Nelson objected, “You leave me nothing.”

“On the contrary,” Gabriel had said sarcastically. “I leave you your freedom, along with a modest monthly allowance.”

“What of Foresthill?” the baron persisted.

“The estate is under my control until I choose to return it to you. I will only do so when you prove worthy of its stewardship. It is only my deep affection for Grace that sets me to having any compassion for you.” Gabriel jerked Nelson upright. “If you do not agree, I will turn you over to the authorities. The opium trade leaves a trail to your door.”

“I knew nothing of the Baloch’s business,” Nelson protested.

“Then prove yourself a man,” Gabriel challenged. “Take responsibility and make restitution.” It had given Gabriel solace to know he had assisted Grace’s brother. It was one way to honor the love his wife had once offered him.

It was the first week of February when the Duchess announced to all her dear family that she would marry Aristotle Pennington in mid-March. Her son, Lord Damon, had finally agreed to Mr. Pennington’s plight. Gabriel thought it all quite amusing how Pennington had called upon the young duke to ask Damon’s permission to marry the dowager duchess, a woman nearing her fiftieth birthday. His only regret was Grace was not among the family guests.

When he learned of Benjamin Talbot’s maltreatment of the woman he affected, Pennington had rushed to Bel’s side. In fact, it had taken both Gabriel and Swenton to restrain the Realm’s leader. Pennington had lost all form of reason when he had witnessed the bruises on Bel’s neck.

“You are welcome to use Fugol Hall,” Gabriel told the couple. “But I do not mean to travel to Town.”

“Yet, you must attend the ball Lyn and Lía plan in our honor,” Bel insisted. “It would not be a celebration without your being in attendance.”

Gabriel knew his duty to the women who had never failed him; however, he held no desire to face the ton. As his cousin, Lord Isaacs had done earlier in the evening, everyone would comment on Talbot’s madness and on Gabriel’s marriage debacle. His expression turned somber. “I would never permit you to align yourself with Mr. Pennington without my being present to witness it. Your happiness has always been tantamount, Tantine.”

“As is yours.” Bel patted the back of Gabriel’s hand. After an awkward pause, she asked, “Is there any word of Grace?”

A heavy weight settled in his gut. An array of emotions sent a shiver up his spine. What if Grace had sought assistance from disreputable people? What if, even now, she lay dead in one of London’s gutters? What if she had taken his child and departed for the Americas or to India? He had spent a small fortune searching for her at every port city and in the major towns scattered across England. He would not stop until he found her. “One would think a woman some four months with child would be easy to discover, but we have had no trace of her. When Lady Godown left Liverpool, she changed her destination several times, going first east and then north before turning southwest toward Cornwall, but she never arrived in the western shires. Somehow, my wife made it impossible for me to sketch her journey.”

“It would be easy enough to do. There are so many posting inns and public coaches,” Pennington observed. “Do you wish the Realm’s assistance?”

Gabriel’s scowl deepened. “I appreciate the offer, but this is personal, between me and Her Ladyship.”

Pennington said seriously, “I understand your position, but know your brothers in life are anxious to be at your service.”

“I am aware of their fidelity, but this is something I must do alone.”

*

Grace rushed through the side streets and alleys. If she were late again, Madam Sophia would likely release her. When she had departed Liverpool, she had prayed her husband would not give pursuit; yet, a part of her had known the disappointment of Lord Godown’s lack of affection for her. Over those first few weeks of their marriage, Grace had convinced herself her husband had developed a tendre for her.

She had arrived in London nearly two months prior, but to the best of her knowledge, no one had yet to ask her landlady about her. She had let a single room not far from the infamous Berkley Square, but in the industrial area leading to the Thames. Having resumed her “disguise,” Grace had moved freely among the men and women who kept London, and England, economically productive.

Assuming she could not return to a governess position, Grace had taken employment as a seamstress in Madam Sophia’s Boutique. With the pin money she had saved, Grace assumed she would soon have enough money to book passage on a ship to the Americas and to begin a new life. It was her intention to wait until after the child’s arrival. She wished for her child to be born an English citizen. And yes, she was definitely carrying His Lordship’s issue, which was the reason she was running late again this morning. Since the beginning of her fourth month of her gravidity, she had known the sickness each morning. This particular day, she had emptied her stomach completely before she could consider dressing for the day.

Grace rushed through the back entrance to the shop only to come face-to-face with a scowling Madam Sophia, whose real name was Sophie Carey. “I apologize…it shall not happen again,” she stammered. Grace purposefully placed her cloak on the hook. She had learned quickly with Madam Sophia not to give the shop owner the upper hand.

“If it does…” Madam threatened. “I shall have no choice but to release you, Charity.” Grace had used the name Charity Winters as part of her employment.

Grace dropped her eyes in submission. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Madam frowned deeper. “Very well. Lady Gardenia is in blue dressing room. She requires several adjustments to the gown she will wear this evening.” Madam lowered her voice. “Of course, the woman is no longer Lady Gardenia; she married one of her footmen some seven years prior.”

Grace’s heart raced. Could this be the same Lady Gardenia who had attempted to entrap Lord Godown? Sally Cole, Madam’s assistant, joined the conversation. “I am surprised the woman intends to show her countenance in Society. There are rumors her cousin will be hanged on Friday next.” Sally referred to Benjamin Talbot’s sentencing. Grace had devoured every report of Talbot’s trial. She had an interest in the man’s guilt: the safe return to the ton of the Three Roses and the lack of an indictment against her brother. In addition, Grace had desperately desired any news of her husband. The various newspapers had dredged up first-hand reports of what had transpired between Godown and the Templetons.

Not wishing to gossip about her husband, Grace gave both women a smile of companionship and returned to her task. “I should see to the lady’s needs,” she mumbled.

Madam stopped her. “Do not forget, you, Molly, and Lucy have agreed to work the betrothal party this evening. This is quite a coupe for our little establishment to be asked to provide for a duke’s guests. Sally will supervise the event.”

Grace had allowed the date to slip her mind. She had accepted the extra work some three weeks prior. Of course, that was before she had spent the morning with her head in a chamber pot. At least, tomorrow was Sunday. She could lie abed all day, and the extra coin would do her well while she recovered from her confinement. “Thank you for the reminder,” she said honestly.

“Madam has ordered a hack so we will not be tardy,” Sally explained. She and the others would remain in the women’s retiring room. They would provide emergency repairs for ripped seams or loose lace.

Grace slipped into the blue dressing room. Her curiosity had increased. The woman waiting within the mirrored alcove had once held Lord Godown’s heart. Despite the lady’s harsh expression, Grace had to admit the woman was a beauty. “Finally!” Lady Gardenia snapped. “I have several alterations, which I must have done today.”

Automatically, Grace said, “Yes, my Lady. How may I serve you?” She watched the woman’s facial expressions: a rolling of the eyes, a pout, a scowl, and a smile. Grace wondered what brought on the gambit of emotions, and then she realized the woman practiced her interactions with others.

Grace’s “disguise” worked wonderfully. Lady Gardenia did not see her. The woman indicated where she wanted a seam let out and where two repairs of the lacy flounce required attention. Grace assisted Lady Gardenia from the gown and promised to have the work completed within an hour.

“I shall wait for the dress,” Lady Gardenia announced. “My friend is having a fitting in the yellow room.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Grace gathered the gown and disappeared into the workroom. As she removed the stitching from the side seam, Grace attempted control of her rapidly changing emotions. How had it come to this? She performed a service for the woman whom Lord Godown once thought to marry. A woman who had destroyed Godown’s belief in a person’s goodness. The woman who planted the seed of distrust, which had ruined Grace’s marriage. Yet, what could she do? If she confronted Lady Gardenia, Grace would lose her position. Such an action would leave her only the option of placing herself under Lord Godown’s power, and she would not permit her child to be raised without knowing love.

“I must find a means to extend benevolence to Lady Gardenia. I hold few options. In fact, there is only thing I can do,” she told herself. “Protect my child.”

*

Although he had offered Bel the use of Fugol Hall for her celebration, Gabriel privately rejoiced in the fact his cousin Lord Damon had performed his duty and had opened Maison Grandiose. As such, he could be a part of his aunt’s formal announcement, but not bring additional notice to his wife’s absence.

Belatedly, Bel had added him to the receiving line for her engagement party. At first, Gabriel had objected, but when the Duchess pointed out the curious would have fewer opportunities to question him on his marital status while in the line than if Gabriel mingled with the others in the ballroom, he changed his mind and accepted.

The presence of his Realm friends and their ladies among those who attended had surprised Gabriel, but he was thankful they had rallied about Pennington, and indirectly about him. “Kimbolt experienced another fire at his estate,” Kerrington explained the viscount’s absence.

“Anything serious?” Gabriel asked in concern.

Kerrington glanced to the right, a sign he did not speak the complete truth, but Gabriel thought the man only concerned for Kimbolt’s mental state, when he said, “From Lord Lexford’s letter, it sounds as if it was in the same section in which Susan lost her life.”

Gabriel’s mouth set in a thin line. “Is Kimbolt injured?”

“From what I deduced, a maid was caught in the blaze, but the viscount managed to rescue her,” Kerrington shared privately.

“A better outcome than with Lady Susan,” Gabriel observed.

“I fear the incident might bring Lord Lexford tormenting memories. He has asked Her Ladyship and I to attend a supper party the first week of April. I hope to ascertain the viscount’s well being at that time.”

Gabriel had had no opportunity to respond because the line shifted, and he looked up to see a woman he had wished never to encounter again. “Lord Godown,” the former Lady Gardenia said as she made a deep curtsy, obviously to provide him a closer peek at her décolletage.

“Mrs. Cooper,” Gabriel said stiffly. He would not give the woman the favor of further acknowledgment.

To his horror, Mrs. Cooper tarried. She extended her gloved hand to him as she said, “Has Lady Godown chosen to greet guests within the ballroom? I do hope to make the marquise’s acquaintance.”

Gabriel purposely ignored her extended hand. “Enjoy the celebration, Mrs. Cooper,” he said coldly and turned to greet the next person in line. Unfortunately, it was Lady Celia Cushing, a woman whom he recognized as Gardenia’s life-long friend. Unlike her companion, Lady Cushing offered an appropriate curtsy. Reluctantly, he accepted the woman’s hand as he murmured a polite greeting, and although the viscountess did not tarry, she had surreptitiously placed a folded note into his palm.

Disgusted by the maneuver, Gabriel thought to make an issue of the woman’s audacity, but then he caught a glimpse of Bel’s beaming countenance, and he slipped the note into his pocket. He would dispense with it once the festivities began.

*

They had entered the house through the mews and the servants’ entrance. The house glowed with lights, and Grace thought the rooms resembled a welcoming lighthouse on a darkened shore. From behind her, she heard Lucy gasp, “It is a fairy tale.” The words brought a grimace. This is the life her marriage would have given her. A life of luxury. “But one without love,” she silently chastised herself.

“Molly and Lucy,” Sally instructed as they reached the first of two rooms set aside as ladies’ retiring rooms. “Charity, you will address the requirements of ladies who choose the smaller room at the far end of the hall. I shall move between the two.” Grace liked the arrangement. Only if the first room became too busy would she likely know customers.

Still in a bit of awe, Lucy asked, “Under whose service do we tender this evening?”

Sally answered with importance, “The Duke of Granville.”

Grace’s heart raced in panic. “What does Lord Damon celebrate?”

She noted how Sally’s eyebrow rose in question. Madam’s assistant said suspiciously, “The Duke’s mother has chosen to remarry, but what makes this a major squeeze for so early in the Season is the dowager duchess will marry a man without a title.”

Grace fought the urge to run. As much as she would love to reunite with the Three Roses, if for no other reason than to assure herself of the women’s recovery, Grace feared her husband was among the guests. She must find a means from this situation; yet, if she failed to perform her duties, Madam Sophia would dismiss her without references. “I should settle into my room,” she murmured. Perhaps, if she could keep her head down and act meek, no one would notice her, and she could escape into the night. She would cling to the shadows of her assigned room and pray her “disguise” held. If God was just, none of her limited acquaintances among the ton would choose this smaller retiring room, and she would survive for another day. Like never before, she hoped to fade into the wallpaper.