Chapter 27
JACK
“Are you ready?” I call up the stairs while waiting for Gracie at the bottom.
“I’m coming!” she snaps back at me, eventually coming to the top of the staircase wearing a floaty, pink summer dress and shocking the hell out of me.
“Don’t say a word or I will rip the head right off your shoulders.” She stomps down the stairs in her heels, holding the banister carefully. Snarling at me when she gets to the bottom.
“Are you sure you're safe in those?” I check, offering her my arm for some support.
“Perfectly.” She flicks her hair back over her shoulders and straightens her posture, refusing my arm. “Being a duchess sucks.”
“You look beautiful,” I add, looking forward to a whole afternoon of touching her. We’re newlyweds after all, everyone at Elizabeth Winfield’s garden party would find it strange if we didn’t show each other affection.
“ I look like a twelve-year-old going to a birthday party. But nothing else fits.” She growls in frustration, looking down her body as if her new form is an inconvenience.
“You look like a glowing duchess.” I can’t resist stroking my hand over her perfect, round belly; it’s gotten so much bigger over the past few days, and seeing her looking so fertile has me continuously wanting to touch her body.
“Don’t use flattery to get you out of this; you know I don’t want to go.” She starts walking to the door, and I tilt my head, watching her and wondering when she’ll start to waddle like Olivia did. I totally understand now why Alex was so obsessed.
“It’s only polite that we show our faces; we don’t have to stop long, we have the perfect excuse to leave early.” I pat her tummy as I pick up my keys and hold the front door open for her.
“You are making this up to me when we get home….with your tongue.” She huffs as she struts past me and makes her way to the car.
“Oh, Grace, look at you; what a vision.” Elizabeth Winfield gives us an exaggerated welcome, and Gracie manages to hold off her eye rolling and smiles instead. “You look absolutely radiant. How far along are you?”
“Twenty weeks and three days,” I answer for her, placing my hand proudly on her bump and kissing her cheek.
“I hope you’re both making the most of the time you have alone together. Since there was no honeymoon, will there be a babymoon?” she asks, sipping from her china teacup and pursing her lips.
“I’m sure it’s something that could be arranged.
” I look to my wife and smile, all the while thinking of all the places I could take her.
She’d love the sunsets in Santorini. I can imagine her paddling in the crystal clear waters of the Maldives; fish swimming around her feet while her hands stroke that sexy belly I’ve given her.
“Well, you're always welcome to visit our chateau in the French Riviera; the views are spectacular, aren’t they, Henry?” She turns to face her husband.
“Henry!” She searches around for him, angrily, when she realises he’s not there.
“That man, I swear, I need to keep him on a leash.” She shakes her head and goes in search of him, while Gracie and I try to hide our amusement.
“A chateau on the French Riviera, huh?” Gracie raises her eyebrows as we slowly walk the garden path to where all the other guests are congregated on the lawn.
“It’s overrated, I much prefer Italy.” I nod at Sir Walter as he passes us.
“You’re lucky to be so well-travelled,” she sighs, looking disappointed when a server offers her a flute of champagne and she has to decline. I shake my head and refuse one, causing her to smile.
“Just because I can’t drink doesn't mean you don’t have to,” she offers.
“I have to drive you both home.” I stroke her tummy over the soft, sheer fabric she’s wearing, feeling a stab of jealousy when I notice the group of men standing by the marquee, ogling her.
“Seems silly when I could drive us home,” she points out. Oblivious to how fucking beautiful she is, and all the men staring at her.
“I didn’t know you had a licence." How have we lived together for almost six months, and I’m only just learning that she can drive?
“I haven’t got a licence, but I can drive.” She looks proud of herself.
“I don’t even want to know.” I shake my head and laugh, sometimes it’s too easy to forget how this woman came into my life.
“Ahhh, Jack, how wonderful to see you.” Kaleb Jefferies smiles a smarmy smile as he steps right in front of me.
“Kaleb.” I greet my brother's best friend politely, even though I want to feed him his own nutsack.
“I see you’ve wasted no time fulfilling your family duties.” His hand reaches out to touch Gracie’s stomach, and I grab his wrist, drawing him tight to my face. “Try to touch my wife again, and I’ll put you in the fucking ground,” I warn, keeping my voice low enough to avoid causing a scene.
“I was just going to offer my congratulations.” He pulls away laughing nervously, and when I see the startled look on Gracie’s face, I release him and snarl.
“My father was hoping for an invite to the wedding; he has a business arrangement to discuss with you.” Jefferies dusts off the sleeve of his suit.
“Well, you can tell your father from me that I have no intentions of doing business with your family.” Thinking back to that night, eight years ago, makes me want to shame him right here in front of all those people, the same way he did that poor, innocent girl.
“That’s a shame; it would have been a profitable investment. I assumed being a father would make you start thinking about the future. I’m sure you’d like to set your heir up with the same privileges that your father rewarded you with.”
“You need not concern yourself with my heir or his future. All you need to worry about is keeping the hell out of my way.” I take Gracie’s hand and move us along before I lose control of my temper, and she sees a side of me I’d rather she didn’t.
“What was all that about?” she asks as we step inside the marquee.
“Nothing, the guy's just a jerk.” I take a few calming breaths.
“Jack, he just wanted to congratulate us.” She laughs like it’s no big deal; she has no idea what an asshole the man is.
“He was going to touch what's mine,” I remind her, protectively resting my palm on her swollen stomach. “Nobody gets to touch you here but me.”
“You and Dr. Stratton,” she reminds me cleverly, and I manage a smile despite all my anger.
“So, how long do you expect me to suffer this?” She looks around at all the people chatting the usual nonsense, and judging others around them.
“We should at least wait until the auction is over. Do you want to sit down somewhere, take the weight off your feet?” I offer.
“Are you saying I’ve gained weight?” She fires me a warning look.
“No, I’m just pointing out that your…I was thinking you might want to—”
“Relax, I’m fucking with you,” she laughs. “No, I don’t want to sit down, I want to make the time go faster, and standing around here isn’t going to help.” She moves over to the group of earls seated by the outside bar, discussing what they should bid for.
“Anyone here for a game of croquet?” She looks out to the lawn where a course is laid out.
“Oh, um…why not?” Lord Frances is the first to take her up on the offer, and she helps him to his feet, all while smiling over to me.
“You're not having all the fun, Abraham.” Lord Whitley grabs his stick and manages to stand.
“And how about you? Not going to sit here all alone, are you?” She gives that temptress smile to the final earl around the table.
“The hell I am.” He smiles, finishing the last of his brandy and wobbling over to his feet.
“Do you know how to play?” I ask her as she passes me, arm in arm with him.
“No, but I’ll figure it out.” She lifts up a mallet and smiles up at the sunshine.
“She’s quite the hit, isn’t she?” A voice I recognise interrupts me as I watch my wife knock the ball between her spread legs, backwards, through the hoop. She raises the mallet in her hand in victory when she knocks it through.
“Annabella.” I nod politely, deciding she’s not worth averting my eyes for. I’d much rather watch my pregnant wife entertain the old codgers whose asses she’s beating.
“Twenty weeks; you must have knocked her up before the wedding,” she comments, proving she’s been talking to Elizabeth as she sips from her glass and sniggers. “I assume Cecelia was too embarrassed by the whole affair to make an appearance,” she adds.
“It’s none of Cecelia’s concern.”
“You're a lucky man, Ravenshaw…A lucky…lucky man.” Lord Frances interrupts, tapping me on my shoulder as he hobbles his way back to his table, and when Annabella huffs a laugh, I finally give her the attention she desires and look at her.
“You know, if you put half as much effort into being kind as you did being a bitch, you might find yourself a replacement for my brother,” I laugh at her.
“Actually, my parents have already found me a suitor; there will be an announcement over the next few weeks.” She keeps a stiff upper lip as she takes another sip of her drink.
“Did it never occur to you to find a suitor for yourself? We’re not living in the dark ages anymore,” I remind her, trying to decide if I feel sorry for her or not.
“And you expect me to believe you married for love?” She laughs sarcastically.
“Come on, Jack, I’m not a fool; you married that little urchin because you're a rebel. She’s a ‘screw you’ to your father for all the years he neglected you, and a ‘fuck you’ to Cecelia for making him.
Well played.”Annabella puts on another phony smile as Gracie joins us, gripping my shoulder and taking the glass of iced water from my hand so she can refresh herself.
“Who knew a game of croquet could be so exhausting?” She sounds out of breath, but the smile on her face proves she's had fun.
“You should be taking things easy,” I remind her, pulling out a chair for her to use.