Chapter 6
Edward had spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering what Grace was keeping from him.
In his heart, somehow, he knew Grace had not married Banks for love.
Why wouldn’t she trust him? He’d been patient and not pressed since arriving at Rose Park, and she now knew what had really happened with Miss Bisbrown.
Yet she still would not confide in him. Since last night, he’d decided he’d waited long enough. It was now time for the truth.
“Grace,” he said as he entered the parlor, startling her. “I want to know why you keep pushing me away and won’t tell my why you married Banks.”
She forced more greenery into an already overflowing vase. “I cannot—”
“I won’t leave until I know why.”
Her eyes turned stony and cold. “You want to know? Will you finally be satisfied and let me alone?”
“I will never be satisfied, not until I know the truth.” And not until Grace was his wife, his duchess. “I will never let you alone.” He’d lost her once, and he would not make that mistake again. “Don’t you understand how—”
“I think you will change your mind.” She chuckled through a quivering sob as she backed farther away from him. “A duke would not want to be associated with the widow of a man whose character was less than dirt.”
“Wh…what?”
Before he could even wrap his thoughts around what she’d just confessed, she blurted, “Tobias was a cheat and a gambler, addicted to laudanum, and an abusive drunk who had friends—dangerous friends—in the lowest of places.”
“No one would judge your actions by his—”
“The ton doesn’t even know the half of it, and have already censured me most cruelly.” Biting her lip, she looked away.
None of this made any sense. Edward took one cautious step closer, dozens of questions lingering on his tongue. “What happened?”
She worried her hands for a moment, then inhaled deeply, and on a slow exhale, began. “Tobias had been in a particularly foul mood, ranting about money. He…” She stifled a sob.
Edward took another cautious step forward. “What happened?” he repeated in a softer tone.
She closed her eyes, and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t say any more, but then she opened her eyes, and, keeping her gaze focused on the ground, she started again.
“Tobias had come home, already drunk and in a fit of temper over being cheated.” She shook her head.
“Although I suspect he’d been the one caught cheating at cards.
He was yelling and smashing things. He took the decanter of brandy and a bottle of laudanum and stormed from the house.
The next morning, his father found him at his shop, slumped on a chair in the office, wreaking of alcohol.
” Her features were stressed and contorted.
“A couple of days later, our cottage was ransacked, and anything of value was stolen.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care about those possessions or even…”
Their eyes met, and something in his heart told him he would not like her next words.
“You don’t understand. I was relieved when he died. It meant I was free and…” She swallowed hard before continuing, “And, he could no longer hurt me.”
“He struck you?” Damn Banks. Red fiery anger surged through Edward’s body. “If the bastard wasn’t already dead, I would kill him.”
Her lids flew open with his declaration before they quickly lowered again, almost in shame.
He gently cupped her shoulder and softened his tone, taking in a deep breath to calm his temper. “Does Conway know?”
“No. Just like everybody else, my brother believed we were happy and in love.” Her gaze slowly met his. “Shame is a powerful silencer.”
“I don’t understand, why—”
“Tobias was a means to an end. I never loved him.”
Her confession took him aback. “You…. you never loved him?” He stumbled through the words.
“No. And he certainly never loved me.”
Hope soared on the edge of confusion. “Why did he marry you then?”
“Tobias was in debt and thought my parents would honor my dowry.” Her words drifted to a mere whisper. “When they didn’t, he became threatening.”
Wait, Grace said that Banks was a means—
Something else had happened, he was certain of it. “Then, why did you marry him?” His question was firm, direct.
“Pardon me, Mrs. Banks,” Mrs. Kirkby said as she rushed into the room, anxious worry lines creasing her features. “There’s a matter of great urgency that requires your attention.”
Grace turned to him, “Please excuse me, Your Grace.” And with that, she left the room, once more leaving him with more unanswered questions.
Yet again, Beata had come to her rescue, and Grace was about to say as much when her friend said, “This is most serious. We should discuss this behind closed doors.”
So, it wasn’t a ruse? What on earth had happened to cause such a reaction from the usually calm Beata? Once ensconced in the study with the door firmly shut, Beata handed her the latest scandal sheets from London.
“Who—”
“His Grace.”
“Oh, no!” Grace began to rapidly scan the sheets.
“Here it is. It is rumored that a certain newly-come-to-his-title duke has been residing at the Dower House, of all places, of a particular residence known for taking in misfits while trying to conceal their identity.” She looked over to Beata. “This is exactly what I feared.”
“There’s more,” her friend said in a sullen tone. “The next page.”
Grace turned the page. “This is about Lady Winifred.” She felt as if the breath had been sucked from her. “How?”
Beata came to her side. “At least it doesn’t mention her by name or the Home, just speculation about where she’s disappeared to after some gossip in Bath.”
That was the only little glimmer of light in this whole mess. What was she going to do? Grace didn’t think she could face Edward again after revealing what she’d just had. It hadn’t been her intention, but the words had just poured from her mouth.
“Will you please ensure that His Grace sees this, Beata?”
“Of course.”
This, the day after Christmas, was supposed to be a joyous day, when presents were offered to the staff and baskets delivered to the tenants.
Why couldn’t the ton just mind their own affairs and not concern themselves with hers, Edward’s, or the Home’s?
She rubbed her aching temples. She couldn’t think about this now.
She pasted on a smile and set about bringing joy to those around her.
After all the gifts were handed out to the staff, she snuck away as everyone else adjourned to the parlor to assemble the last of the baskets to be presented to the tenants that afternoon.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to participate, it was simply that she felt overwhelmed by the scandal sheets, the surge of emotions constantly running through her veins since Edward’s arrival, and memories from the past.
She just wanted a few quiet moments to lose herself in calm.
She crept through the house toward the small ballroom, which was farthest away from all the merriment.
It was the only place where she was certain to have the peaceful moment she desired.
Cool, crisp air brushed across her face as she entered the vast space, followed by the fresh scent of evergreens.
She went to the curtains and pulled them wide, allowing the winter sun to warm the unused room.
Tinsel reflected and danced across the walls. Closing her eyes, she imagined a string quartet in the corner playing seasonal tunes, or even a waltz. She swayed to the music in her head, pretending to dance with…
“Mind if I join you?” Edward’s seductive voice called to her.
Her eyes flew open as she turned and came face to face with the one man who was never far from her thoughts. “I don’t want to discuss earlier.”
He eyed her for a moment, then said, “One dance. You and me. No words. Then I will leave you be.”
She sensed he would only let her be for a while.
She was tired of arguing. He would never understand that she was trying to protect him from the gossipmongers, from the past, from heartache.
If he was already the subject of rumors and whispers in Town, she could only imagine what would happen when the ton learned of his association with her. She couldn’t let him suffer.
“There’s no music,” she replied as she started for the doorway. It was a poor excuse.
“Should that matter?”
Edward didn’t wait for her to answer, instead approaching her, and then, in the next moment, taking her in his arms to lead her through a waltz.
As promised, he didn’t speak, but simply hummed a deep, gentle melody that carried them through the large ballroom.
Her body was a breath away from his—too close and yet not close enough.
It was a magical moment, and one she would cherish for the rest of her life. Seconds turned into breathless minutes where the world only existed for them. But far too soon, reality would demand its place in her world.
And then the waltz ended. He bowed, thanked her for the dance, and took his leave, leaving her more confused than ever.
The pleasant day turned into an even more pleasant evening filled with singing around the pianoforte and games.
Cheers and giggles resounded, mostly from Miss Casborne and Molly, who’d formed an unlikely friendship given their vast difference in station.
But that was exactly what the Home was meant for.
It never ceased to amaze Grace that the women who resided here found joy in the everyday.
There was no gossip, no meanness, just friendship.
Perhaps it was because they had all suffered and just wanted to find a glimmer of happiness in an otherwise cruel world. It was quite refreshing.
“What does everyone want to play tonight?” Lady Doyle questioned as she glanced about the room before her eyes settled on Beata.
“Snap-dragon,” Grace’s dearest friend suggested. “I’ve always wanted to play it.”
Grace had played the game numerous times—never with much luck—so she took a place near the back of the room in the shadows and allowed the others to partake while she begged remembrances from the past to remain locked away.
Mr. Elkins brought in a large silver bowl, placed it in the center of the table, then proceeded to fill it with brandy, before adding nuts and raisins. The ladies gathered round and waited as all but a few candles around the room were extinguished.
“Mrs. Kirkby, you may go first,” Mrs. Elkins said before turning to her husband. “Light the brandy, dearest.”
Mr. Elkins moved forward and then lowered a candle into the alcohol.
“Oh! It’s beautiful!” Molly exclaimed.
“Look how the flames dance. It’s like a waltz,” Miss Casborne commented. “It’s quite mesmerizing.”
Try as she might, once the brandy was lit, memories from the last time Grace had played Snap-dragon rushed to the forefront of her mind, warming her cheeks.
It was Twelfth Night, four years past, and two young people who’d known each other since they were children fell in love.
She received her first kiss that night. It was the first of many from her love.
“I bet I know what you’re thinking.” The deep, seductively spoken words brushed across her heart.
“I’m not—”
“I’m thinking of that night, too.”
The flickering flames cast fanciful shadows on the walls. Cheers and words of encouragement over how best to capture the raisins faded into the background.
“Oh.” Grace didn’t know what to say or think. Her body, however, seemed to move of its own accord, swaying closer to him. Heavens, but he smelled good. Like warm spiced biscuits on a chilly evening; inviting, invigorating.
He leaned in and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve missed you, Grace.”
“Edward, please don’t,” she whispered for his ears only. “It’s too late.”
“Is that truly what you believe?”
It was too late. Too much had happened, and her station in society had been greatly reduced when she married Tobias. The gossips would have a field day if they were to… she couldn’t even finish the thought, or have hope. If the scandal sheets earlier were any indication, then…
On a shaky whisper, she said, “Yes.”
His sharp inhale nearly broke her heart, and then he spoke, and her heart was shattered. “Goodbye, Grace.” And just like that, he walked out of her life.
The breath rushed from her body as she watched him leave.
Oh, dear Lord, what had she done?