Chapter 20
GRACE
One Month Later
“So, how is everyone?” I ask Sophia once I’ve finished telling her about the meal we had with Lord Harrison and his wife last night.
Thankfully, we run our investigation services online.
We never meet the clients in person, so she didn’t recognise me as one of the people she employed to check in on her husband's activities.
“Selena’s bored out of her brain, but enjoying the luxuries. Did you know there's a pool in the basement?” she tells me excitedly. “I’ll bet it's not as big as the one you have there, but it’s pretty cool.”
“Is Polly still mad at me?” I sip my lemon and ginger tea, dreading her answer.
“She's not mad at you, she’s just concerned. You know how she feels about that family. How we all feel about them. Suddenly, you’re living in their mansion, carrying the next Ravenshaw heir. It’s a lot for her to take in.”
“Tell me about it.” I look down at my stomach and blow out a breath. There's no physical sign of me being pregnant yet, other than the constant feeling sick and horrendous exhaustion.
“I just wish she understood that I’m doing this for us all.”
“She does.” Sophia tries to sound convincing.
“I don’t want to be here, and I sure as hell don’t want to be pregnant, but this is—”
“Too good an opportunity,” she finishes my sentence for me. “We get that, so does Polly, but you have to admit it’s a lot to put your body through, and giving up a baby isn’t going to be easy.” I hear the concern in her voice.
“My body is strong, and I’ve got my head on straight. I know this baby isn’t mine. It’s Jack’s; we all just have to hang on until this is over.”
I hear loud giggling and whispers coming from the living room, and when I head down through the hall to find out who it's coming from, I find Kerry and Amelia, the housekeepers, distracted from cleaning the patio doors by something outside.
“He is sooooo hot,” Kerry says, practically drooling against the glass. “Much better than that last duke.” Amelia jabs her with her elbow, and when I clear my throat, they both spin around and instantly turn red.
“Miss.” Kerry bows her head, despite the amount of times I’ve told her not to.
“I think the windows are clean, girls. Why don’t you take a break from admiring my husband?” I smile as I step closer to see what's got them in such a flap.
“Oh, we weren’t—” I tilt my head and smile at them.
“Of course, miss,” they both say in unison as they scurry past me, and when I see Jack outside pushing a wheelbarrow, it’s not just the sight of him doing physical labour that makes my pussy jolt; it’s how he’s dressed while he’s doing it.
All the duke is wearing are jeans and thick garden gloves; his perfect hair-covered chest and torso on full display, shimmering with sweat as he goes about his business.
I watch his arm muscles work as he lifts the handles of the barrow and tips it onto the compost heap.
Pauline, the housekeeper, approaches him with a cool, iced beverage presented on a tray, and he smiles at her gratefully as he takes it and downs it.
The smile she gives him when he places it back on the tray is the first one I’ve seen from her since I’ve been here.
Suddenly, I’m reminded how long it’s been since the two of us had sex.
It’s been a whole month since our wedding night, and granted, it’s been my choice.
Although I made the decision for good reason, it doesn’t mean it's been easy. I’ve missed our intimacy, and every day seems to get harder instead of easier.
My feet start moving outside towards him, and Pauline offers me a polite but stern nod as she passes me on her way back to the kitchen.
“Hey.” Jack smiles when he sees me approaching, and being closer makes me want to run my fingers all over that perfectly trimmed upper body. I used to love touching it while he fucked me, holding on to his strong, muscular arms as he came inside me and growled in my ear.
“You manage to keep your breakfast down?” he asks, acting as if him standing in front of me half-naked isn’t his way of torturing me. I’m sure he’s doing his best to ensure I regret my decision.
“I did.” I smile, trying to figure out why I’m so mad at him; there's every chance this is not a punishment, and the guy’s just doing some gardening, so why have I got such a fucking issue with it?
“Don’t you have staff for this kind of thing?” I look at all the weeds and brambles on the heap and wonder where they came from. I’ve explored these gardens, and they’re immaculate.
“Got to do something to keep me busy.” He shrugs, taking off his gloves..
“And do you think it’s appropriate to be dressed like that?” I glance my eyes over him, hating having admit to myself that I could be jealous. Those two girls had no business staring at him the way they were; he’s supposed to be my husband.
“It’s a warm day, I’m doing manual work. If you're offended, I’ll just put my shirt back on.” He reaches back to untuck it from hanging in his back pocket.
“No, don’t be silly. I was just—curious.
” I’m getting the sense that he’s doing all this to avoid me.
Despite him taking the best care of me, this past month has been a little awkward; in fact, it was much less awkward when we were having sex at every opportunity we could get.
Jack still shows me affection; his hand is always looking for an opportunity to stroke my tummy, he always holds my hand when we go anywhere public, but a kiss on the cheek before bed is as passionate as we’ve gotten.
I miss him.
And that, right there, is the whole reason why I had to set boundaries.
“I made an appointment with Dr. Stratton for your dating scan. I figured you’d rather have it here than go to the hospital,” he informs me, completely changing the subject.
“Thanks.” I smile, knowing it’s something he’s been looking forward to.
“I mean, there are plenty of private hospitals we could take a look at. I could ask Alex and Olivia whic—”
“Here’s perfect.” I smile, hating the idea of ever stepping foot in one again, private or not.
“Dr. Stratton comes highly recommended. You could read through her credentials. I have them in my office.”
“I trust your judgement,” I tell him, trying not to stare at his chest. “I should get back inside.” I make my excuses to leave, even though I want to stay close to him.
“You know, I have a meeting tomorrow; it’s not far from the apartment where the girls are staying. I could always drop you off, then pick you up when I’m finished,” he suggests, trying so hard to be accommodating.
“That would be great.” I fake another smile for him, because as excited as I am to see the girls again, it’s not going to solve the real problem. The problem I, myself, caused when I told him we had to stop having sex.
He’s respected my wishes, he’s been nothing but kind and courteous, so why am I so frustrated with him?
“I should get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” He picks his wheelbarrow back up, wheeling it around the side of the wall, out of sight and out of reach.
“Not a chance.” I laugh under my breath and walk back into the house. I’d never admit that, right now, the only thing I think I need is him.
“So what's it like being a duchess?” Sophia takes hold of my hand and studies the ring on my finger again. She’s not valuing it like Selena did; she’s admiring its beauty.
“No different to being a grifter; I’m just playing a role, remember?” I point out, lifting my feet up onto the sofa.
“Well, you're looking good doing it. How much is this dress worth?” Her fingers brush over the fabric. “I’ll bet Polly would love to see your wardrobe.”
“So when will you start getting fat?” Selena interrupts, placing the coffee she just made me on the coffee table and tossing a packet of custard creams onto Sophia’s lap.
“Hopefully, not for a few more months.” I lean forward to pick up the mug and remember something I should have asked before she made it. “Is this decaf?” I check.
“Decaf?” Selena laughs. “What sort of a question is that?”
“I’m pregnant, I can only drink decaf these days,” I explain,
“Oh, I'm sorry, we weren’t prepared for the duchess’s visit. Next time, we’ll be sure to bust out the scones and Earl Grey.” Standing up, she takes the mug and tips the coffee down the sink.
“Will this do, Your Highness?” She raises her eyebrows at me and holds out a glass of water.
“I’m afraid it's tap, not filtered through the highland mountain springs.” Her sarcastic smile makes me laugh as I take it and decide not to mention Jack’s rule about me drinking tap water. I’m sure just this once won’t hurt.
“So, is Polly around?” I glance around the luxury apartment. I was really hoping I’d get the chance to see her so we could talk.
“She’s working at the boutique; with all the garden parties coming up next season, Pandora’s really busy. I’m sure you’ll be one of her regulars.” Sophia tries to distract me with excitement.
“When this is done, we’ll all be able to wear designer clothes, and from far better designers than Pandora.
We just have to figure out where we’re going.
” I try to create a little excitement of my own.
I need to start looking forward to the future, not pining over the lack of intimacy I’m getting from my fake husband.
“I’ve always liked the idea of Canada.” Selena lies back on the huge, white leather sofa. “Though I’d be open to anywhere. Who says we have to stay in one place?”
“Would it be wise for us to travel too much if we have fake identities?” Sophia asks warily.
“I’m going to start working on some fake identities for us, myself, just in case this contact of Jack's doesn’t come through.
He’s done a good job of making you a perfect duchess, but we have to have a plan B.
Once we leave, we don’t want there to be any possible way of Jonah finding us.
” Selena proves she’s not been getting much rest when she stretches out her arms and yawns
“I have a plan in place to ensure he won’t be looking for us,” I promise.
“Yeah, well, I’d like to hear it; you know that son of a bitch will be gunning for all of us the second he gets out.” Selena sits back up like she’s intrigued.
“Not if we’re all dead.” I watch her and Sophia’s eyes widen in shock, and their open mouths morph into a smile.
“I like your way of thinking, Mrs. Ravenshaw.” Selena reaches over the coffee table to fist pump me. “Hey, maybe we could all crash in your husband's private jet.”
“My husband has a private jet?” Now I’m the one who’s shocked.
“Your husband has to access his own island somehow,” she tells me cleverly. “Are you sure you’re going to want to leave him when the time comes?”
“Trust me, leaving Jack won’t be a problem,” I lie to them, and to myself, as I help myself to a custard cream.