Chapter Seventeen
Rory wasn’t as tired as he had thought he was.
He should have gone out somewhere, to a club or a hell or Mrs. Smith’s, but the truth was he didn’t want to.
And that was worrying. He lay on his bed and stared up at the canopy above and wondered what was wrong with him.
There must be something. Only a man laboring under some illness would prefer to stay home with his wife than go out and have fun.
The sound of soft tapping on the door brought his head up. “Yes?” he called.
The door opened, letting in a narrow spear of light from the lamp in the hall outside, and he saw a silhouette he recognized.
“Grace?”
“Apologies,” she spoke a little breathlessly, “but I wanted to tell you that your aunt will be accompanying us tomorrow in the park, if that is—is all right? She was upset so I asked her if she—”
“What on earth is this about?” Rory demanded, sitting up now in all his naked glory. “Come here and tell me what you mean.”
Grace moved toward the bed, shutting the door behind her, and took his outstretched hand.
She would have stopped when she reached him, but he tugged until she climbed onto the mattress by his side.
Rory turned to light the candle on the small table beside the bed and then turned to look at her.
She was still dressed, and she looked anxious as she began to explain.
“Your aunt received a letter from your uncle. She was very upset, and on the spur of the moment I asked her to come with us tomorrow. I thought she needed something to take her mind off—”
“What did the letter say?” Rory interrupted with a frown. “Uncle James is well, I hope?”
“Yes, yes, he is well. He wrote to tell her that he isn’t coming home. Not yet. There was some problem with a ship he needed to stay for. Your aunt wept.”
Rory groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It was loose and almost reached his shoulders, and the bright color seemed to catch fire in the light of the candle.
“Do you think he knows how she feels?” Grace added. “Surely if he did, he would come home?”
“I imagine he is focused on other matters, or at least I think he is.” He stared at her, seeing something in her expression.
“Do you think he has met someone else? In my wildest dreams, I never imagined that would happen. When they are together, my aunt and uncle appear to be still very much in love.”
“But what if by the time he comes home, it is too late?”
Rory gave her a sharp look. “Too late?”
Grace smoothed her skirts, refusing to meet his eyes. “She is lonely and sad, and she is still a very attractive woman. I am sure other gentlemen have noticed.”
“You mean like Lord Kilsyth,” Rory said wearily. “He did seem very taken with her.”
“And she with him.” Grace finally turned to look at him. “Would it be such a terrible thing if she did take a lover?”
Rory felt the turmoil inside him like a tumbling wave.
He loved Aunt Jennie and he wanted her to be happy, but Grace’s question was not an easy one to answer.
“I would have said it was fine once upon a time, Grace, but what if her affair turns to love? What if she decides she no longer needs or wants my uncle? Is it worth the risk? Yes, another man might help to relieve her sadness, but is it worth the risk of destroying their marriage?”
“Other couples take lovers and have affairs and remain married to each other,” she said quietly.
“But they were unhappy to start with.” Rory leaned back against the pillows, and after a moment, Grace curled up next to him.
“My family always seemed so solid,” he said quietly.
“I have never doubted that what I see is what they are. My parents, and their love for each other, and for their children. My aunt and uncle, and their long and abiding love. But they are only human, aren’t they? People are capable of mistakes.”
He turned his head to look at Grace. Her life had never been settled and solid.
It had always wavered beneath her feet. Rory had never really considered it, but now he realized how lucky he had been with his own family.
Knowing they were there, solidly behind him, had allowed him to go about his own reckless ways without much thought.
Because he expected them to catch him if he fell.
Rory had turned very introspective these days, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. In fact, he decidedly did not.
Grace gave him a sympathetic look, her full lips partly open as if she had more to say, her dark eyes fixed on his face. Something in his chest caught, and he reached out and smoothed back a stray curl of hair, guiding it behind her ear, before cupping her cheek.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “And I am more than happy for Aunt Jennie to accompany us tomorrow. I’m sure we can cheer her up.”
She smiled and leaned into his palm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly he desperately wanted to kiss her, to hold her, and there really wasn’t any reason why he should not.
Their lips brushed gently and then clung.
The kiss was tender, gentle, as if they had all the time in the world.
He nuzzled against her temple and rested his head against hers.
Her hand slid over his naked chest, tracing the curve of muscles and finding his flat nipples.
Her fingers played with the hairs that grew down to his belly.
Rory felt his calm begin to shatter as desire rose within him, the want for her that never really went away. He pulled her to him, kissing her more passionately now, his tongue tangling with hers as she made soft sounds.
Would he ever get enough of her? At this moment, it seemed doubtful, but if his Uncle James, who he thought had loved Jennie with all his heart, could cool toward his aunt, then maybe .
. . Rory did not want to think about that.
He didn’t want to imagine the people he loved could be so easily broken apart.
It was a depressing thought, and right now he wanted to celebrate whatever it was he had with Grace.
Grace’s clothes were in the way, and he began unbuttoning and unhooking and then sliding the garments from her. She was far more beautiful when she was naked, and he told her so as she arched against him, words spilling from him as he kissed her and caressed her before laying between her thighs.
He tried to hold on as long as he could, but she was warm and welcoming, so passionate as she moved against him, that he only just managed to subdue himself until she reached her peak, before he emptied himself inside her.
And then they lay peacefully, still joined, in each other’s arms, until sleep claimed them.
When Rory woke, it was to find his uncle’s valet standing in the doorway with his morning coffee. “Sir,” he said, unflappable as ever, and setting down the coffee, removed himself from the room.
Grace blinked at the sound, startled, and sat up, naked in the morning light. Rory swore beneath his breath. How could he want her again? And yet he did.
He reached to cup her breast, fingers tweaking at her taut nipple, and then leaned down to use his mouth.
Grace gasped, and he had the urge to ask her if Buckingham had done this too.
But suddenly he didn’t want to know. What did it matter what Buckingham had and had not done?
The man was gone, run off like the coward he was.
Rory was here now, this was his wife and Buckingham would never touch her again.
That was what really mattered.
And whatever Rory and Grace had together now.