Chapter Eighteen
The carriage ride in the park was one of the happiest moments Grace had experienced for a long time.
Jennie had put aside her dark mood and was full of smiles and chatter, and Rory responded with his own wicked laughter and teasing.
Grace felt as if she were part of their family.
She did not have to say much at all, just enjoyed the moment as they trotted along, pausing now and again so that Jennie could greet her many acquaintances.
There were still the usual horrid stares and whispers behind gloved hands, but Grace was getting better at ignoring them. Perhaps in time they would realize that Grace was respectable after all? Or perhaps not. She could only continue to do as she was doing and hope for the best.
Rory was being very attentive, which made her heart warm, but then once again he spoiled it by leaning in and whispering to her, “That should convince the doubters!”
She managed a smile, but some of her joy drained away, leaving her feeling downhearted now she knew it was all pretense on his part.
Which was ridiculous. Because of course it was pretense!
Rory might enjoy taking her to his bed, but that didn’t mean he felt more for her than any of those other women—and rumor suggested there had been a lot of them.
He was kind, she knew that much, and she trusted him to protect her from Ormsby, but as for allowing herself to fall in love with him?
That must never happen, even if she had the uncomfortable feeling it was already too late.
But right now she didn’t want to think of that, not when she had quite enough to deal with.
Jennie was much cheerier when they turned for home. She said, with a firm set to her jaw, that she would write a reply to her husband’s letter and tell him all about her enjoyable ride in the park. “I will make him jealous,” she said with a grin.
Rory and Grace exchanged a glance as they wondered what else Jennie might do to make James jealous.
Just as well Kilsyth wasn’t visiting them this afternoon.
He had suggested that he and Rory meet up at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Club to watch some of the gentlemen sparring, while Grace was happy to spend some time on her own.
The modiste was coming again, to add some finishing touches to her latest gown.
But when they reached home, they discovered there had been an invitation delivered for a ball the following evening. A single invitation should not have caused so much excitement in a household, but it did. Jennie, her eyes sparkling, declared it was sure to be the first of many more.
“The Fotheringhams are not top drawer, but they are well thought of,” she said. “Is the name familiar to you, my dear?”
Grace didn’t think so.
“Well, whatever their reason for inviting you to their ball, I am grateful. There will be the usual gossips, but you and Rory must show everyone you are not afraid of what they say. It is the only way to deal with bullies.”
“You are right,” Grace said, as if she was trying to convince herself.
Jennie patted her hand. “Dance as many dances as you can together. Enjoy yourselves!”
Grace shot Rory a mischievous look. “Can you dance?”
Rory made a rude noise. “Of course I can dance, wife!”
Grace had always enjoyed dancing so she was glad to hear it. Even if no one else asked her, she would have Rory as her partner.
“We’ll show them,” he said, his blue eyes bright.
Jennie’s eyes brightened too. “You MacKenzies always rise to a challenge.”
Grace supposed she was a MacKenzie now. It made her feel somewhat braver about the ordeal that faced her, and she straightened her back in preparation for the battle ahead.
*
It was the following evening and the time had come to dress for the ball.
Jennie supervised her outfit, and when she was ready, Grace examined herself critically in the mirror.
The cream color of the dress showed off her dark hair and eyes, and there were minimal bows or lace, so it wasn’t as fussy as some of her new gowns.
The plainer style suited her. She had all the appearance of an elegant young woman who belonged in the best houses in London—very different from the shabbily dressed creature who had first come to marry Rory.
She even felt a stirring of excitement at the thought of being at a ball with Rory, dancing and enjoying herself. What did it matter what other people thought and said? She had her whole life ahead of her, and she wanted to fill it with future joy rather than past mistakes.
“Rory gave me something for you,” Jennie said, and passed her a long case that looked as if it held jewelry.
Surprised, Grace took it and opened it carefully. Inside, nestling in velvet, was a string of creamy pearls to match her dress, with the addition of a diamond pendant. She stared in amazement. “Oh! Are you sure this is for me?”
Jennie frowned as if a little irritated.
“Good heavens, my dear, who else would it be for? Now let us see how it looks on you.” She took the necklace and fastened it about Grace’s neck and then stood back to examine the effect in the long mirror.
Grace stared back at her own reflection.
The diamond pendant caught the light from the lamp, the weight of it heavy between her breasts.
She had never had anything like this given to her before. Ormsby was too mean to buy jewelry, even for his wife, and when Grace’s mother died, whatever she had owned was put in trust for her two younger daughters.
Suddenly the worrying thought occurred to her that perhaps Rory wasn’t actually giving this to her but that he was just lending it to her because he wanted her to look nice for the ball.
Maybe she was meant to return it? She knew he was kind, but she shouldn’t read too much into his actions or she would only be disappointed.
Jennie was beaming at her. “You look perfect, my dear,” she said. “Are you ready? Rory is kicking his heels waiting, and you know how restless he gets.”
Grace agreed she was ready, and they set off down the stairs.
Rory stood at the bottom of the staircase, wearing the silk breeches and dark blue jacket that seemed to be de rigueur for these sorts of events.
With his auburn hair gleaming and his freshly shaven face, he was every inch a duke’s son, and Grace felt a little wobbly at the sight.
Desperately, she wished their marriage were more than just a pretense. She wished . . . she wished . . .
He was watching her descend with an expression of satisfaction, and when she reached him, he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Grace, you will be the most beautiful woman there tonight,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied. Feeling awkward, she touched her fingertip to the diamond pendant. “I did not expect—”
“You cannot go to a ball without jewelry,” he retorted. “It makes me look like a miser.”
Oh! That was why he had given her the necklace. Appearances. He didn’t want to be in the same class as Ormsby.
“You should go,” Jennie reminded them. “You will be fashionably late, but any later and the Fotheringhams may think you rude.” Then, with a warm smile, “Enjoy yourselves, my dears!”
Grace wished Jennie was coming with them, but told herself not to be silly, as Rory led her to the carriage. The vehicle set off toward their destination.
“I saw your necklace in Bond Street,” Rory said, gesturing at her diamond pendant. “Kilsyth said I should get you something pretty.”
“Oh. Then I should thank Lord Kilsyth?” she said quietly.
“You could,” Rory said, “but I had already decided you needed some jewelry. I had thought rubies, but then I saw this. Do you really like it?” He sounded uncertain, which was unlike him.
“Yes, I do. It is beautiful,” she assured him. “Can I keep it?”
He looked astonished. “Of course you can! I gave it to you,” he said, frowning now. “Don’t you want to keep it? My word, you are verra difficult to understand sometimes, Grace.”
He had hurt her feelings, but now she had hurt his. Grace took a breath and tried to explain. “It is just that this is new to me. Being married and receiving gifts. I am still getting used to it. I’m sorry if I seem difficult. I just don’t want to say or do something that will make you . . .”
Suddenly he was beside her, on her side of the carriage, her hands in his. “That will make me what? Send you away? Return you to Ormsby as if you are an unwanted gift? My dear wife, that is not going to happen. The jewelry is yours and you can keep it.”
She looked into his eyes and the truth was there. He would never do those things to her, not willingly anyway, and she must learn to trust him. She must learn to believe the best instead of the worst.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded, leaned in as if to kiss her, and then changed his mind when the coach began to slow as they reached their destination.
Rory climbed down and helped her to the ground, and she looked up at the house before them.
It was grand but perhaps not as grand as some others.
That was when Grace realized that she had heard of the Fotheringhams after all.
She wondered how she knew of them. There was something niggling at the back of her mind but she couldn’t quite grasp it.
And anyway, it was too late. They were climbing the shallow stairs to the front door, from which spilled light and voices and music.
Grace drew in a deep breath. “You won’t leave me on my own?” she asked him quietly, embarrassed at her own needy words but not able to stop herself from saying them. “It’s just . . . I am wondering why these people invited us? Do we know them?”
He leaned in so close, his breath stirring wisps of her hair. “That is why we are here, so that you can get to know them,” he reminded her with a return to his confident manner. “And to dance with me,” he added with a grin.
“Yes, I want to dance with you,” she agreed, with a glance up at him through her lashes.
Rory’s smile grew.
She didn’t expect them to be announced as they proceeded into the ballroom, they had arrived quite late, but there was a footman waiting and he called out their names in a loud, carrying voice.
“Lord Rory and Lady Grace MacKenzie!”
Everyone stopped and stared, or at least that was how it felt to Grace. She had the urge to turn tail and run, but before she could do so, the hostess had come to greet her.
“We are so pleased you could attend tonight!” Mrs. Fotheringham’s smile was wide but her eyes cold. There was something about her. She reminded Grace of someone. But she was struggling to think clearly with all that was going on about her.
The woman chattered, and Grace nodded and smiled, but she hardly heard her. Rory was responding with his own comments, seemingly having no trouble at all. His self-assurance would always carry him through any situation and Grace was relieved he was by her side.
Mrs. Fotheringham turned to another couple, and they were finally free to move away. Grace looked up at the gallery above her, where the musicians were stationed. They were starting another tune, and the dancers were forming. Rory squeezed her hand.
“Ready?” he asked her.
Was she? She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I am.”
The dance helped to calm her. Rory was a good dancer and Grace had been taught by a dancing instructor while her mother was still alive, so she did not fear making a mistake. They were enjoying themselves, and Rory grinned at her as they circled the room.
“That’s shown them,” he declared, giving her a twirl.
She laughed at his enthusiasm. She loved that about Rory, the way he threw himself into each new challenge, the way he found joy in most things.
Grace was more inclined to worry about what lay before her, building it up in her mind until it felt almost insurmountable.
But Rory was teaching her that there was nothing that could not be overcome.
He was teaching her other things too. He was such a sensual man, but she was sensual too.
They complemented each other in that regard.
Beyond the bedroom, they enjoyed each other’s company and seemed to have no trouble finding topics of conversation.
Sometimes when they were together, like this, everything just felt .
. . right. As if the happily married couple they were pretending to be wasn’t a pretense after all.
The music was about to start up again when Rory stopped with a frown. “I think you have an admirer coming to ask you for a dance,” he said, although he didn’t sound very happy about it.
Grace turned and saw that there was a gentleman bowing. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” he said.
She knew immediately who it was. She felt light-headed with shock. How could he have the audacity to approach her like this? It was only when he straightened and she looked into that face she knew so well—intimately well—that she remembered that Bolton Buckingham was capable of anything.