Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
G race wanted to be rational, but she was devastated. She had not even been able to savour her beautiful first real kiss, for he had then ruined it for her—and just when she had begun to hope he might offer for her, and not even completely out of duty. Yet he would spare her that indignity, apparently. What kind of man was he? She must not really know him at all. She had been lured into thinking their shared experience somehow bound them together in a special way.
That hope had vanished within seconds and a few cold words.
She was silly to have hoped. A man like him would not want to be settled for life with a shy mouse like her.
All she wanted to do was retreat to her room and wallow in self-pity, but even she would not be allowed that today. Lady Maeve was standing outside Grace’s door as if she’d been seeking her. But Grace was tender-hearted and her woes were nothing to what Lady Maeve had suffered. She still bore deep, dark bruises on her face and a swollen, cut lip.
“Good morning, Miss Whitford. You have already been out this morning?”
“Please, call me Grace. I have been on a walk, and am lost in admiration for your beautiful home.”
“Thank you. Would you join me in my sitting room for some chocolate?”
“Of course. Let me put down my bonnet and pelisse.” She laid those on a chest in her room and then followed the girl down the carpeted hall to a lovely set of chambers furnished in pomona green and cream. There was already a tray with chocolate and rolls awaiting them.
They sat down and Maeve poured out the steaming beverage for her. “Thank you,” Grace said, accepting the cup and saucer. She sensed that Lady Maeve had something to say, so she waited for her to speak.
“I did not have the chance to thank you for what you did last night to help me,” she began. “I realize I put a great many people in danger. It was never my intention to hurt anyone—in fact, I thought it would make everything better.”
Grace reached out and took Maeve’s hand; it was trembling while her other one wiped away tears that spilled over from her large, sapphire eyes.
“Now Flynn is dead because of me.” She lowered her head to compose herself.
Grace could see that Maeve was grieving for the man even though he did not deserve those feelings. Sometimes, it seems a heart loves despite what is best for it , she thought. Love truly did not seem to have a direct line of reasoning with the mind—as Grace’s own heart could currently attest to.
“You are safe now and no one blames you.” Grace fervently hoped the girl’s parents had not said otherwise, but she did not think she had misjudged them. They seemed relieved she was home and safe.
“How can they not? Ronan tried to warn me. How could he forgive that?”
“They know you were manipulated and they love you more than anything. Your brother knows you were not being spiteful.”
“I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for being such a fool.”
Grace could sympathize completely with that notion.
“Mother says I was only infatuated and my heart will heal in time. I will never be so reckless as to love again. Who would even want me now?”
“Anyone would be a fool not to want you, my lady.”
“You are very kind to say so, but it is not as though this can be hushed up.”
Grace felt bile in her mouth at those words. How conveniently her own situation was to be erased as though it had never happened. She was to pretend they’d merely gone on a little visit to Ireland, when her whole world had been overturned. Perhaps she should be grateful, but she was devastated.
“Are you going to marry my brother?” the girl asked, clearly oblivious to what had just occurred between Grace and Carew. Grace had been distracted in her introspections, and Maeve’s words shocked her.
“I-I…” Why did Grace hesitate to answer truthfully? Because it would make it more real?
“I have always wished for a sister,” Maeve continued, again oblivious to the discomfort the words inflicted.
“I do not think she will be me, though I should be delighted to call you such.”
“But I just saw you outside.”
Grace gasped. “I am sorry you saw that. He does not intend that we should wed, however.”
“How dare he treat you in such a manner! And he was lecturing me!” Maeve’s sadness quickly turned to fury.
“Please, my lady, do not be angry with him. It is my fault entirely, and it was an accident that placed me aboard his ship. I would no more wish for him to be shackled to someone he did not wish for than for you to be estranged from your family.”
“It certainly looked as though he was participating well enough,” Maeve argued.
Grace reached out and put a hand on Lady Maeve’s arm. “Please,” she pleaded. “It was a mistake. Would you want someone forced to marry you when they did not wish it?”
“No, of course not. I just do not understand his behaviour.”
Nor did Grace, but she did not wish to dwell on it any longer. In fact, she would beg Patience and Ashley to leave on the morrow. Being forced to see Carew and pretend she was not heartbroken was about the worst thing she could imagine at this moment.
The girl let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose you will be leaving soon, then.”
“Yes.”
“How I envy that you can leave. There is nothing for me here, and I will be shunned unless I marry quickly.”
Sadly, Grace knew that to be true. It was the way of their world.
“You have parents who love you. I envy you that.” She would give anything to have her parents back.
“Oh! Forgive me. I did not mean…”
“You could not know,” Grace reassured her. “They have been gone a long time now, and my sisters love me well. I am certain I would feel the need to escape were I in your shoes. In fact, perhaps something might be arranged whereby you can come to England with us for a while.”
Her face lit up at the prospect. “Oh, do you think so?”
“My sister, Joy, will be entering Society, and I know she would welcome the company. I realize you were unable to meet her last night, but she has come with us. Shall I ring for her and you may become acquainted?”
“I would like that very much. I confess I did not notice the others with us, only that there were others present.”
Grace pulled on the bell-rope to ring for a servant.
“My sister, Patience, and her husband, Major Stuart, as well as our dear friend, Mr. Cunningham, were also in the party.”
“To think so many strangers were willing to help me. You knew me not at all, yet you willingly risked your life to help me.”
“As to the first, your brother is not a stranger at all. It is Major Stuart’s position in the army to do such things, and your brother has helped my family a time or two in dangerous situations. We were all very willing to help.”
A maid entered and Grace conveyed the request to send Joy to them.
Joy must have been nearby, for she appeared quickly with both kittens in tow. She smiled at Maeve. “Good morning, Grace. I was just on my way to take the kittens outside.”
“Make your curtsy to Lady Maeve first, please, since we had no opportunity to do so last night. Lady Maeve, this is my sister, Joy.”
Lady Maeve stood and returned the curtsy. “It is a pleasure, Miss Joy. May I see one of the kittens?”
Nothing delighted Joy more than someone who shared her love of animals. She plucked Evalina from her especially sewn pouch and handed the kitten over. Grace saw Theo’s head spring up next, and she couldn’t resist taking him for herself. She’d missed his cuddles last night. He seemed to have missed her in turn, as his loud purrs reverberated as soon as she snuggled him against her chin.
Lady Maeve looked equally delighted with her kitten. “Are they not too young to be away from their mother?”
“They were weaned soon before we left. There are four more at home, but Patience would not let me bring them all,” Joy said as though Patience were daft.
“Why do you not go with her to take them out, my lady?”
“But the bruises,” she whispered in return, as if the entire estate was unaware she’d been gone and then rescued.
“’Tis nothing a bonnet will not hide. Fresh air will do you good,” Grace reassured her, then turned to Joy while Lady Maeve decided. “There are stable boys named Paddy and Barry who I assured could help with the kittens as well. They helped me with Theo on the ship. Can you make sure they see them?”
“Of course.”
Grace handed Theo back to her. Meanwhile, Maeve was already tying on a bonnet. Grace suspected Joy and the kittens would be quite good for her.
“You will speak to your sister about England?” Lady Maeve asked before they left.
“Are you coming back with us? Capital!” Joy exclaimed.
“I will do that at once.” As well as beg her to leave as soon as possible. At least Grace could help someone else recover their happiness, even if hers was sorely injured along with her pride.
Ronan felt as though he’d been thrashed. As though someone had ripped out his heart, stamped on it, then poorly sewn it back in. The look on Grace’s face and her words would haunt him forever, but he still knew it was what was best for her. When the time came to speak, he knew he had to let her go.
He would talk with Major Stuart and his wife, as well as pen a letter to Westwood. As he’d returned from a long walk of trying to sort through his thoughts and feelings, he had been surprised to see Maeve with Joy, playing with the kittens. The sound of her laughter had made him temporarily forget his own sombre mood. He rejoiced that she appeared to have found a friend to help her instead of sulking in her chambers.
Ronan found Major Stuart with his wife in one of the drawing rooms. They had been served what looked like a light meal, as it was now past noon.
“Pardon my intrusion, but may I speak with you?”
“Of course,” Major Stuart said and began to stand up. Ronan waved him back down.
“Would you care for some tea?” Mrs. Stuart asked.
“No, thank you. I wish to speak with you both about Miss Grace.” Something that had been put off with the necessity of dealing with Maeve’s rescue first.
Ronan was aware of Patience Stuart stiffening her posture. Was it his tone of voice? Was she opposed to her sister being forced to wed him? Even though he agreed, it still chafed.
“About that,” Major Stuart began. “I think the crisis has been averted, since we managed to depart shortly after your ship. There was enough chaos and confusion that Westwood was certain he could smooth things over.”
Ronan agreed and nodded. It was what was best for Grace. “You will, of course, let me know if word has spread?”
“Of course,” they agreed quickly but dismissively.
“We thought we would depart in the morning if you have no objection.”
Ronan tried to keep the surprise from his face. He had a great many objections, but he kept them to himself. “I am certain you are all anxious to be home, though please do not feel the need to hurry away on our account. I am sure Maeve would enjoy the company. In fact, I have just seen her making friends with Miss Joy and the kittens in the stable yard.”
“About your sister…Grace has just been in here and suggested we take Lady Maeve to London with us. She thought it might be a nice diversion for her—where she can heal, away from reminders of what happened here. While the Season has not yet begun, she may make a few acquaintances. Then, if she wishes to remain, she may be brought out under the patronage of a duchess and a viscountess. Joy will also be making her début.”
His initial instinct was to shout, ‘No!’ He didn’t want everything to be happening so quickly. He needed time to make sense of all that was happening. Ronan knew the plan was a brilliant one, yet he wanted to keep Maeve here to protect her and wrap her in cotton wool, but that was a ridiculous notion as he had failed to do that already. She would heal much faster away from all the reminders of her spectacular misadventure. “I have no objection if my parents are agreeable. I think they will be relieved, as my mother has been afraid to leave my father in order to take her to London.”
“Joy will be delighted to have someone to share the experience with her. She is rather dreading Society,” Patience added with a wry twist of her lips.
“I will speak with my parents about the matter. By the by, my father requests you join him at dinner this evening to show his appreciation for your help last evening.”
“We should be honoured to meet him,” Major Stuart said, “if it is not too much for his health.”
“It will give him great pleasure as well as be good for him, I suspect.”
The Stuarts nodded.
“Please make yourselves at home here, even though the stay will be short. There are fine paths for riding and some excellent cattle to choose from should you wish to see more of Ireland.”
He took his leave and went to tell his mother about Maeve’s invitation, even though he’d rather retreat and nurse his wounds. Ronan already felt the loss of Grace as keenly as though he himself had laid her on the altar of sacrifice.
The great hall of Donnellan Castle had not seen such activity in years. The long table, polished to a dull gleam and adorned with flickering candelabra, groaned under the weight of a veritable feast: roasted meats, fragrant pies, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an array of sauces and delicacies. Fires roared in the hearths, casting a warm glow over the ancient tapestries and high ceiling. It was an evening meant for celebration, though the mood was yet sombre, the events of the past days lingering in the air.
The party had gathered there, and Ronan found it difficult to keep his eyes from Grace. She’d borrowed a gown from Maeve and he wondered how he’d not noticed her radiance before.
Ronan watched as his father made his entrance with innate authority, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone floor. Though his frame was gaunt and his steps cautious, he was still every inch the lord of the manor. His lady walked beside him, gently guiding and steadying. Ronan had helped his father downstairs some time before dinner was to begin so he would be spared the indignity of being witnessed in needing help.
All those present came forward as his father approached the head of the table, and he gestured for them to be seated. “Let us not stand on ceremony tonight,” he said, his deep voice carrying a note of wry amusement. “I am too old, and you are too young.”
As they took their places, Grace was seated between Lord Donnellan and Lady Maeve, a position that seemed to disconcert her. Ronan knew she disliked being the centre of attention.
He watched as his father’s sharp gaze swept over the table, pausing on Grace with unmistakable interest. “So, you are the young lady to whom we owe our gratitude,” he said, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
Grace inclined her head, and she inhaled deeply before answering. “I did very little, my lord.”
“Little?” he repeated, his brow lifting. “My dear, you saved my daughter and very likely my son as well. If this is what you call little, I should love to know what is much to you.”
“Father,” Ronan interjected, his tone dry, “perhaps you might allow Miss Whitford to enjoy her meal before overwhelming her?”
Lord Donnellan’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Nonsense. A young lady brave enough to steal my daughter out from under Flynn’s roof can surely endure a few words from an old man.”
“Nevertheless,” Grace said with quiet humour, “I find your praise far more daunting than Flynn’s threats, my lord.”
A ripple of laughter passed around the table, and Ronan saw Grace’s shoulders ease slightly. Maeve leaned towards her, whispering not so quietly in a confiding manner. “He likes you. Not many people achieve that on their first meeting.”
Grace smiled, though Ronan could tell she’d rather observe than speak.
“And how are you finding Donnellan Castle, Miss Whitford?” Lady Donnellan asked kindly.
“It is beautiful,” Grace replied earnestly. “The history here feels alive. I can almost imagine medieval knights and their ladies filling these halls.”
“Knights and ladies,” Maeve said with a smile. “While the reality is drafts and bats.”
Everyone at the table laughed, and even Maeve’s subdued chuckle joined the chorus.
“Before we begin, I should like to make a toast.” Lord Donnellan lifted his glass and everyone else followed. “Whilst we do not celebrate our enemy’s death, we are very grateful that the feud has been brought to an end, and to have Maeve back where she belongs.”
Ronan was grateful to see the light back in his father’s eyes.
“We give thanks, too, for the bravery of this lovely young lady…” He lifted his glass to Grace. “and for the quick actions of Major Stuart.”
“Hear, hear!” They all lifted their glasses and drank.
His mother signalled to the footmen, who came forward to begin serving.
“We should hold a ball,” his father announced, continuing in the vein of celebration.
“It might seem rather callous with Flynn not cold in the ground,” Ronan warned.
“We must celebrate somehow.” His father was almost pouting. It seemed that now he had come out of his chambers, he meant to resume living again. For that, Ronan was grateful.
“This will have to do as they will be leaving on the morrow,” Maeve said.
“Is this true?” he asked Grace.
“I am afraid so, my lord.”
“Then we shall make the most of the time we have together. I hope it will not be the last, however.” He cast a meaningful look between Ronan and Grace. Ronan felt his father might as well have pierced his heart with a dagger, for it was of little use to him now. It would be leaving on the ship for England tomorrow.