Chapter 26
Grace
My fingers tremble and my freshly manicured nails catch in the intricate stitches of my dress as I slip it over my head. I’d still been working on it last night, sewing all the individual pieces together with gold thread and black yarn.
Even with the lace-effect, the dress is still heavy, but its weight is reassuring against my chest. I’d much prefer Duke’s arms, but he’s the reason my nerves are shot.
Not the party. Not the wedding tomorrow or Katarina’s imminent departure.
Nor is it the return of Duke’s brother or the Bratva soldiers who will accompany him.
Those things add up to a level of terror so overwhelming that I’ve become numb to it.
No, what I’m currently finding terrifying is my surroundings.
My stomach had dropped when I pulled up outside the rambling Moncrief mansion earlier today, and that’s exactly where it’s stayed.
This is Duke’s family home. This is the lifestyle he’s inviting me to join, where valets wait at the entrance to park your car and someone else takes your bags to your room.
The guest bedroom I’ve been assigned is understated elegance that screams high-end luxury.
The light color scheme is contrasted with heavy brocade and solid wood furniture.
The seemingly simplistic accents are modern, but as a whole, the room, like the rest of the house, is doused in history.
This is how the Moncriefs live. It’s how I’d be expected to live if Duke and I are to have a future together.
I’m actually going to miss the cocoon Duke has built around us in his office. I don’t know if I’m ready for the changes ahead. What if I can’t assimilate? What if I can’t live up to the legendary status they’ve labelled me with? Who could?
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I assess my handiwork.
The dress molds perfectly to my body and stops at my mid-thigh, while the scalloped edges of my long sleeves partially hide my trembling hands.
The gold bodycon dress underneath is meant to protect my modesty, but it looks more flesh-colored in the warm light than I’d like.
Before I spiral into a panic, there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
I’m slipping on my nude six-inch heels as Ed strides into the room and dazzles me with his white tux.
“Oh, wow,” we both say at the same time.
Ed circles me as he inspects the dress. “Grace, you are gifted beyond words. You might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You think it’s OK?” I ask chewing my lip.
“Not it, you,” he says. His eyes are glassy, which makes me want to cry. I love this man. He genuinely means it.
But it’s still not enough to silence my doubts. “I’m having second thoughts about the bodycon. Does it look like I’m not wearing anything underneath the dress?”
“Yes.”
“I should change.”
“Absolutely not,” he insists. “Ready?”
I give myself one last look in the mirror. I’ve styled my dark hair into a simple French twist to keep it off my face and my smoky eyes have a touch of metallic gold to complement the dress. The red lipstick was Duke’s request. “I’m ready.”
“Then there’s nothing left to do but enjoy Katarina’s last day on earth, may her soul rest in peace, if she had one.”
I elbow him for that. “Stop it, now. You like her more than you let on.”
“Maybe, but I still can’t wait to see the back of her.” He nudges me back. “I’m looking forward to seeing the right woman in Duke’s arms,” he says and pulls me into a hug. “You just make sure you look after our man.”
“I’ll try.”
He squeezes harder to force a better answer.
“Fine, I’ll look after him.”
With the pep talk over, I sneak a look out of the window, only to have another wobble about the family I’m being welcomed into.
Night is falling so I can’t see much of the vast rolling landscape, but there’s a distant lake that glints in the moonlight.
According to Duke and our one brief conversation when I arrived, everything as far as the eye can see is part of the estate, including the lake.
On the lawned area closer to the house, a marquee has been erected the size of a circus tent, and there’s a smaller marquee on the tennis court for catering – because of course the Moncriefs have a full-size tennis court too.
Festoons of fairy lights and flaming heaters highlight the paths to guide the guests towards the party and not the house. Duke’s father has opted to stay away, as has Duke’s sister, Meri, but Rory and Calder are here. And all being well, Fitz will be home soon.
I check the time. Guests aren’t due to arrive for another hour, and Fitz is expected at eight p.m. Speeches are at nine, after which Katarina will blow out the candles on her birthday cake.
Apparently, she’s never done that before, or had anyone sing happy birthday to her.
I don’t know what kind of life she’s going to build for herself after tomorrow, but I hope she’ll have someone to sing happy birthday to her next year too.
“We did a good job,” Ed remarks, following my gaze to the marquee.
“I hate to break it to you, but our job isn’t over until the last guest leaves.”
“Darling Grace, when you find a job you enjoy, you never have to work a day in your life. And tonight will be very enjoyable even if you are a hard taskmaster” he says, fixing his white tie so it fits neatly into the vest of his white tux.
“You might have to spend the evening pretending you’re not drooling over Duke, but I’m a free agent. I will be openly drooling.”
“And you’re going to have more than your fair share of admirers drooling over you too,” I promise. “I’ll try not to infringe on your enjoyment too much. Go crazy.”
“Is there any other way?”
We’re heading out the door when my cell phone buzzes. I read the message. “Katarina needs me,” I tell Ed. “Do you want to come with me, or would you rather make an early start on the cocktails?”
He winks. “Katarina’s all yours,” he says and swaggers off. Forget the birthday girl, Ed is going to be the star of the party.
Said birthday girl is in a room on the opposite side of the house, the family wing. Fortunately, as it’s the night before the wedding, her bodyguards can’t question why she’s in a separate room to Duke.
As I pass the sweeping staircase that leads down to the even grander entrance, I hope I can remember the way to Katarina’s room.
I only know I’m on the right track when I join one corridor and a figure emerges from the room at the furthest end.
I come to a sudden stop, as does my heart.
Wearing a black tuxedo complete with tartan vest, Duke takes my breath away.
He’s fixing his bowtie, or he is until he sees me.
We have to be at our professional best this weekend.
No sneaking into his room, or him into mine.
Our messages are limited to bland updates and we don’t trust making calls in case the Bratva are listening in.
One simple glance could give away our true feelings, but it’s hard to remember that as we start moving towards each other.
Duke draws level, and frustration twists my insides as I simply nod a greeting as I pass. His arm shoots out, his hand landing on my stomach. My ache for him deepens.
“I can’t speak,” he whispers, looking straight ahead instead of at me.
“I know.”
His rumble of laughter ripples over me. “No, Angel. I mean you’re so fucking beautiful I’ve been struck dumb.” He starts to trail his fingers lower then snatches his hand away before temptation becomes too much to resist. “One more day.”
I dip my chin to my chest. “One more day,” I repeat and we both move in opposite directions.
Before I knock on Katarina’s door, I chance a look back along the corridor. Duke should have turned the corner by now, but he’s stopped. We stare at each other. To hell with precaution. I do a little twirl.
Duke clutches his hand to his chest and shakes his head, smiling as he disappears out of sight.
Katarina is not smiling as I enter the room. I didn’t think it possible that she could cry, she just doesn’t look the type, but there are muddy puddles beneath her eyes. She’s yet to get dressed and the sleeve of her silk robe is damp where she’s been mopping her tears.
“I need you to do me a big favor. Please, Grace,” she begs. Actually begs.
“What favor?” I ask cautiously. I’ve had enough conversations with Duke to know that the only way to guarantee that the next two days go without a hitch, is for us to keep religiously to our agreed plans. No last minute surprises.
“The caterers have messed up the top tier of my cake. Their designer is making a new one, but I need you to go and pick it up. I don’t trust anyone else,” she adds quickly because there are countless other people, including the caterers themselves who should be responsible for the delivery.
“Do you really need seven tiers? We could just rearrange the decoration and make the sixth layer the top one,” I offer as another alternative.
Her chin wobbles. “Six isn’t my lucky number, and it wouldn’t take long to fetch it. I’ll give you the address.”
“I know where the caterers are based. It’s at least an hour round trip.”
“The cake was being decorated somewhere else, something to do with temperature control,” she says, using her phone to send me the address. “You’ll be back in half that time. Please, Grace. It’s my first birthday party and I want to get it right.”
Crying at your own party already ticks one of the boxes for a classic birthday, but I don’t say that.
I mumble an agreement and turn on my heels.
I wish there was time to chase after Duke, or find Ed to let them know what’s happening, but I leave a message with Len, the butler who arranges to have my Mini Cooper brought to the front of the house.