Chapter Sixteen
The narrow house was part of a terrace in a quiet street, and Rory thought it was exactly what Grace had wanted.
Her eyes lit up when she first saw it, and she stood a moment in the sitting room that looked out over a handkerchief-sized garden, where a bird perched on a lilac bush.
He knew she was imagining herself living here.
The silence drew on and he shuffled uneasily, wishing she would say something.
The longer he stood here, the more doubts he was beginning to have.
The place was very small. Too small, really.
When Grace’s two sisters were living here, it would be crowded.
Perhaps he should have looked for something larger?
“You are deep in thought,” he said abruptly when she still did not speak.
She started at the sound of his voice and turned to him. “I am imagining myself here,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I am hoping it is the sort of place my father will allow my sisters to visit, even if he will not let them live here permanently.”
“You are a respectable married woman,” Rory said sharply. “There is no reason for him to keep your sisters from you.”
She said nothing but he could see she disagreed, and she had had more experience with Ormsby than he.
He looked about him again, trying to picture Grace here on her own.
Living her own, quiet, insular life. It made him feel very depressed.
He did not want her to be quiet and—and lonely, and yet it was he who had decided upon this place.
Impatiently he asked himself what would happen if Grace did not live here.
Didn’t Rory want his old life back again, that free and easy existence he had enjoyed for so long?
Wasn’t that the whole point of finding Grace somewhere else to live?
“It was very generous of you to do this for me,” Grace went on, but she sounded as subdued as he. “I wasn’t sure . . .” She hesitated. “You hadn’t spoken about finding somewhere for me, not lately, and I wasn’t sure . . .” Again, she stopped.
He was almost about to retort that of course he was going to find her somewhere to live because she was his wife! But then he realized that wasn’t helpful either.
“I will be able to fill in my time in the garden,” she went on quickly, smoothing over the awkward moment, and moving to the window to peer out.
Rory sighed. “It is a very small garden.”
“Yes. But I will be living here on my own most of the time, and I won’t be able to afford a gardener. Or servants. Maybe one,” she mused.
That made him feel even more depressed, thinking of her out in the garden in all seasons and cleaning and cooking, while he .
. . He paused there. What exactly did he expect he would be doing?
Returning to Bonnyrigg and picking up his former rackety life where he left off?
Forgetting himself in more drink and women as each year passed until they all blurred together?
The idea made him feel squirmy inside, and the bright colors in the garden outside the window dulled.
Perhaps he should stay here in London? Before the duel, he had been enjoying himself.
Hadn’t he? But Rory knew in his heart that wasn’t entirely true.
Even before the duel, he had begun to have doubts about the direction his life was taking.
He’d tried to hide them from himself, but since he had met Grace, and made friends with Kilsyth, those doubts had burrowed their way back into his consciousness.
That life, the one he had always believed he wanted, had come to an end. It was too narrow, too shallow. He wanted more but what that more consisted of . . . The answer seemed just out of his reach despite how much he strained to grab hold of it. He suspected that it involved Grace.
How could a marriage that was meant to be nothing more than a good deed suddenly have become so important to him?
He made an impatient sound. Warily, Grace turned her head to look at him. “Rory? What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded strained.
“This was a mistake,” he blurted out like an idiot.
Her eyes widened. “A mistake?” she repeated. “Do you mean our marriage?”
He hardly heard the painful note in her voice. He was too caught up in his own chaotic thoughts.
“This place is not suitable. I can see that now. It is too . . . too . . .” He gave up. “Come on, there will be somewhere else. Somewhere better.”
Even as he said it, he was wondering if there would ever be somewhere else that was just right for Grace. He tried to picture this perfect place in his head, but the image that came to him was Bonnyrigg Castle. Impatiently, he pushed it away.
She was looking up at him with a worried expression. “Rory. Really, this is quite satisfactory. I’m sorry if I am not as enthusiastic as I should be. It was just that I thought—”
But he took her hand in his and was already leading her to the door.
She didn’t protest, letting him pull her along.
Once they were outside in the fresh air, he kept walking, as if he had forgotten all about the coach.
There was a garden in a square across the cobbled street, and he headed for that, needing to clear his mind.
His brain felt as foggy as a winter’s morning at Bonnyrigg, and he needed to push that fog away so that he could see what was behind it.
Rory had never been the type of man who vacillated.
He usually made up his mind about a thing and then did it, even if his decisions often consisted of the easiest and least troublesome option.
Life was to be lived, he had told himself, and thinking too much wasn’t good for him.
And yet here he was, thinking, and he really wasn’t enjoying it.
“Rory?” Grace stumbled, so he slowed his pace. “Rory, where are we going?”
By now they were inside the square, walking on the green grass with the trees and the birds all about them. He took a deep breath. He missed this. He missed the Bonnyrigg estate where he could ride and walk and be himself.
Rory found a bench to sit on. Grace plumped down beside him with a puff of breath and then proceeded to smooth down her skirts and retie the ribbons on her bonnet. She was like a cross little hen adjusting her feathers, and he found himself smiling. Suddenly, his mood improved.
“I apologize,” he said.
She shot him a puzzled and irritated look. “Why did you bring me here if you were going to change your mind?” she demanded. “I don’t understand.”
What could he say? She was right, though, he had changed his mind. “I changed my mind because I realized I didn’t want you to leave. I want you to stay with me at Aunt Jennie’s.”
She looked down, her long dark lashes sweeping her cheeks. He admired her clear complexion and the downward curve of her lips. It would be nice to kiss her but—he glanced about and realized they were not alone—not in public, perhaps. There was enough scandal circling them without adding to it.
“You confuse me, Rory,” she said quietly.
“You did not want to marry me, and then you did. You didn’t want our marriage to be a legal one, until I convinced you it was a good idea.
Now you want me to stay with you at your aunt’s house in Mayfair.
For how long? Will you change your mind again?
Perhaps you are one of those people who takes up a new project every week, and sets aside the last one to gather dust. Is that what will happen to me? Will I soon be gathering dust?”
He laughed uneasily at the image she presented. “No, Grace, you willna be gathering dust. I have decided I like your company, and you know I want to help you to cast off your scandalous reputation. What is wrong with that? You should be pleased by it.”
She let her gaze rest on him as if considering his words.
“There is nothing wrong with that,” she said at last, a faint flush in her cheeks.
“I just . . . I worry you will grow tired of whatever role you now see yourself in. Perhaps I would be better off in that little house over there,” she waved her hand vaguely in the right direction.
“At least then I would know I have a roof over my head.”
He should be angry with her lack of faith in him, but he wasn’t.
He understood why she felt the way she did.
Grace had never had a stable life, and she was rightly suspicious of his change of heart.
He would just have to convince her with actions rather than words that he was genuine in his desire to help.
Because that was what this was about, wasn’t it? His desire to help?
Abruptly, Rory stood up. “Shall we go home?” he said, holding out his hand.
She looked up at him and then gave a brief nod, and together they walked back to the coach. She turned her head as they drove away to look again at the little house, but Rory ignored her and told himself he knew best.
*
Grace didn’t know how to feel or what to think.
This morning when Rory had disclosed what his “surprise” was and whisked her off in the coach to see this house he had chosen for her, she had been pleased and sad, both at the same time.
She wanted to be settled and safe, and this seemed like a step forward, but she was also enjoying living with Jennie and being Rory’s wife.
Even though she knew the wife part would have to end, she had half thought Rory might allow her to continue her dream for a little longer.
And then, while she was trying to convince herself that the house was perfect—yes, a little small, but she wouldn’t be able to afford servants—he had rushed her off, saying he had changed his mind!
Her head was spinning.
And yet there was a warm sensation in her chest, like a small warm nest of coals, that was rejoicing in the fact that he did not want her to go just yet. Even though it was only putting off the inevitable, surely?