What the Duke Wants (22 page)

She forced thoughts of him from her mind. She damn well refused to be hurt by the thought of him and Beatryce together and having fun. She had accomplished too many of her goals on this outing to ruin it now by thinking of him.

Her anxiety increased as the day wore on, though; she anticipated running into Beatryce at every stop, and it was the thought of an unpleasant altercation with Beatryce that set her nerves on edge. Not the thought of running into him, of course.

As they entered the last shop, she was immediately impressed by the atmosphere. The furniture and displays were situated such that one felt compelled to browse. Yet the colors were soothing, inviting one to relax and be at ease. Even the gentleman’s waiting area, though more masculine than the rest of the shop, fit in with the décor and appealed to her senses with its leather chairs and dark, wood tables, at least the parts she could see from the door.

Grace walked through the shop taking her time and noting every little detail along the way. She passed the gentlemen’s waiting area without looking too closely. She was focused on the accessory display at the moment, though she’d come back to furtively look over the other on her way back through.

She was just making notes in her journal when she heard a well-known voice speak above the background sounds of the shop.

“No, I don’t think you understand. I must have this dress ready by tomorrow.”

Whoever responded did so quietly, so as not to draw further attention from others in the shop.

Oh, God, Beatryce is here.

Thankfully, Beatryce was in another room being measured for a new gown and couldn’t know Grace was there as well.

She needed to leave. Immediately. Knowing Beatryce’s behavior when she was displeased, Beatryce could suddenly step out of the dressing area at any moment just to make a scene, and if she did, she would spot Grace straight away. Then, Beatryce’s suspicions would be instantly aroused, for she knew Grace had no money with which to purchase anything.

Grace backed up, afraid to take her eyes off the curtains separating her from where Beatryce was being fitted in a dressing room. She didn’t want to be caught unaware in case Beatryce decided to come out.

She had only taken a few steps when she was stopped by a warm, solid barrier at her back. She shivered as a voice spoke softly in her ear.

“Grace…”

Oh God, it was him. Of course. She had forgotten he was meant to be escorting Beatryce today. Her heart pounded in her chest. She always reacted that way to his presence, and she hated it. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke her name, sending shivers down her spine. She didn’t want to see him, yet at the same time, she yearned to stretch her ear a little closer to his mouth and feel the gentle press of his lips there.

God, I am going mad.

Grace whirled around before she succumbed to temptation, Beatryce momentarily forgotten. He lifted his hand, to do what she didn’t know, but she didn’t intend to find out.

“Don’t,” was all she said. She held up a finger to accentuate her warning and held his gaze so he could have no doubt she wanted him to stay away.

“Grace. What are you doing here?” He looked pointedly at the open journal in her hand as he asked the question.

She closed her journal and shoved it haphazardly in her reticule before responding, “Research.”

She lifted her chin daring him to criticize her for her choices. “Dansbury has assured me he is going to take care of the problem with my shop, and I trust him completely.”

She had angered him with her admission. That much was obvious.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Grace cringed. Ugh. Despite all her preparations, the thing she wanted most to avoid had come to pass. Beatryce had spotted her. How could she have forgotten the true threat lurking nearby? Grace turned around to face Beatryce. She needed to keep her biggest threat in front, and for some reason, despite everything, the feel of Stonebridge at her back reassured her, like he was there to protect her from the monster she now faced rather than being the monster himself.

“Beatryce.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement, but said no more. Let Beatryce be the instigator. Grace would not be the one to cause a public scene.

“What could you possibly be doing in here? Have your circumstances changed so completely since this morning?”

It was a spiteful barb.

“Beatryce…” Stonebridge spoke, the warning clear in his tone.

Grace surreptitiously reached behind her and squeezed the duke’s arm in a shockingly bold move. He couldn’t interfere. She appreciated his defense, though she didn’t know why he had done it, but she needed to face Beatryce herself, and she didn’t need him risking his own reputation coming to her defense (a commoner) over his own (soon-to-be) fiancée.

Clearly, he wasn’t thinking at the moment, but fortunately, he took her hint and said no more, though he still remained at her back, unconsciously demonstrating his support. She slid her hand down his arm intending to release him, but at the last minute, he grasped her hand with his. They were standing too close for anyone to see. For truth, anyone paying attention should find it odd for him to stand behind her that way, but Grace liked the feel and strength of him there too much to move away. She was emboldened further when she felt him squeeze her hand in reassurance.

“Oh, Ambrose, it’s fine, dear. Grace knows I speak only out of concern. Grace, what do you have there in your bag?” Beatryce nodded her head pointedly at Grace’s reticule.

Grace tried to hide her sharp intake of breath. Beatryce had noticed her new journal and was suspicious.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just a gift. For a friend, actually. One of the servants at Beckett house, that’s all.” She had to add the last even though it would give Beatryce more ammunition to belittle her. Beatryce knew she didn’t have any friends other than the servants and wouldn’t have believed her had she implied otherwise. Beatryce didn’t disappoint.

“How provincial, friends with the servants? You certainly enjoy living on the edge of scandal, don’t you, Grace?”

Grace simply stared at Beatryce. There was nothing tasteful she could think of to say to that, and she had no desire to further prod Beatryce’s wrath or to stoop to her level. She just wanted to get out of there with her dignity, and her journal, intact.

Beatryce stared at Grace in return, a definite smirk curved about her lips. Beatryce was still distrustful, but then out of nowhere, her face brightened and she said, “Ambrose, dear, I think we should be off. The clientele here is particularly undesirable. Madame Beaumont, I’m cancelling my order. In the future, I suggest you take more care in who you allow to patronize your shop.”

Beatryce said it all without breaking eye contact with Grace. Her look threatened further action later in private. The suddenness and ease with which Beatryce left disturbed Grace more than anything else. Beatryce had let her off easy, which could only be bad.

Beatryce took the duke’s arm and made her way gracefully out the shop. Grace was relieved she was not staying at Beckett House in London now, and yet she thought frantically about where to stash her journal for a few days where Beatryce could not find it if she chose to ‘visit’ Grace at Lady Harriett’s. Just in case.

* * * *

“I’m ready.”

Stonebridge mentally (he hoped) cringed at the sound of Beatryce’s voice. They were sitting in his curricle; she was impatiently waiting for him to drive on. The sound of her voice was starting to grate on his nerves. She had done nothing but complain and gossip throughout the entire day. She had nothing meaningful to say, ever, and he was at the end of his patience.

Where in the hell had the intelligent woman I witnessed back in February gone?

Perhaps that was why he had approached Grace in the shop: his control had been weakened throughout the day as he put up with Beatryce’s constant haranguing, and thus, was practically nonexistent when he and Grace had crossed paths.

Well, I’m still good at making up excuses anyway.

He admitted he was jealous over Grace’s trust in Cliff. She thought it was Cliff who had saved her shop and her home.

But it was I who saved your precious home, your father’s shop! Me! Not him.

He had screamed the truth in his mind as he stared at Grace, willing her to hear what he couldn’t say aloud. He desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be trusted by her so completely, and his jealousy over her faith in Cliff made him want to punch something. Like a child. He had wanted to tell her everything then. But hadn’t. No, it was for the best she not know it was all him.

Then, there was the confrontation itself—in a public shop, no less. Beatryce, he was quickly discovering, could be a vicious piece of work, and he was supposed to marry her? When had she become the veritable shrew? He couldn’t have missed that when he saw her during the little season as he was making his decision to court her, could he? He was seriously starting to question himself. Hadn’t he chosen her based on facts and how perfectly suited they would be based on those facts? Were his facts wrong?

Grace, on the other hand, had acted the perfect lady, proving one couldn’t breed proper behavior.

Now, he was starting to have genuine questions about the wisdom of his choice in wife—not even considering Swindon’s possible involvement in the Society for the Purification of England and all the implications that came with it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t really in a position to back out now, though no one would fault him if her father turned out to be a murderer and a traitor.

For now he was committed, even though he had yet to officially propose. Everyone knew, and he was beginning to think that was why Beatryce felt so comfortable revealing her true self to him now, when he had no way of gracefully backing out of his commitment without compromising his own reputation.

“Yes, quite so,” he finally responded. It was all he could manage.

* * * *

Grace returned to Lady Harriett’s home exhausted—mentally and physically. At the same time, she was relieved. She felt safe here.

As she walked in the front door, the butler directed her to a silver salver on a side table in the hall where a letter for her awaited. She shivered with apprehension. It wasn’t likely to be Dansbury, as he had already left her a note explaining he had to leave town for a few days and would see her when he returned. That left the Becketts because she didn’t know anyone else and there was no way it would be the duke. Therefore, whatever was written in that letter was likely to be unpleasant. Her anxiety increased with her every step toward the plate.

She hated being right.

Dearest Grace, my niece,

It has come to my attention that you are in London despite my express wishes forbidding it, you ungrateful child. We always knew you would be incapable of grasping the simplest concepts such as obedience and respect for your elders…especially toward those who provide for you. It has been my experience that women with common blood do not have the mental aptitude required for understanding these things—therefore, I shall strive to remember that and not punish you too harshly for what you cannot help.

With that in mind, I expect you to remove yourself from Lady Harriett’s home post haste and come directly to Beckett House in London before you have further opportunity to embarrass our good family name with your disobedience and objectionable ways.

As such, I shall expect you within an hour of receipt of this letter. Do not further disappoint me on this or the consequences will be unpleasant for you and your friends working for the Beckett Family.

Sincerely and Affectionately, Your Uncle by Law,

Lord George Beckett, Earl of Swindon

She choked back a sob, choosing instead to harness her anger and inner strength. The nerve of that judgmental, fat bastard. She ran into the library looking for paper to send off a quick note of her own. Dansbury had warned her that if she had any contact from her uncle, to notify him immediately—and if he wasn’t here, to notify Stonebridge. Well, she may not want to notify His Grace, but she trusted Dansbury. And until he arrived, she would repeatedly remind herself that her racing heart was caused by anxiety over the note from her uncle and not due to anticipation of seeing the duke again.

Chapter 17

Grace was pacing the library floor, her nerves on edge, when Stonebridge arrived per her summons. She furtively wiped her clammy hands on her dress as the butler stepped aside to admit him. He looked handsome as always and was dressed to perfection—not overdone, but simple, pressed, and well-tailored. He was clearly concerned, though, and he did not hesitate; he strode across the room with long strides, and grasped her hands in his.

“Grace, I came straightaway. What has happened?”

“Dansbury said I should contact you if he wasn’t here.”

At his nod of agreement, she released his hands, walked over to the large library table in the center of the room, and picked up the letter from her uncle. She turned and handed it to the duke, who had followed in her wake.

“It’s easier if you just read it,” she said and stepped back, hands clasped behind her, as he began.

She watched him, taking advantage of his distraction to study the beauty of his face and the concern etched clearly on his brow. She watched his lips, so full and seductive, move as he mouthed the words as he read. She longed to reach up and kiss the corner of his mouth. She was overcome with awareness but chased the thought away.

When he finished, he looked up at her and searched her eyes a moment before he smiled. He was trying to reassure her with that smile, but also, she detected a hint of pride in it.

He was proud of her? She smiled in return to let him know she was fine.

“Grace, do not worry. I shall speak to your uncle today. You must remain here at Lady Harriett’s house.”

“But, why? Not that I’m anxious to return to Beckett House or anything. I just can’t help but think something is going on. What is going on, Duke? And what of my friends in Beckett House? Are they in some sort of danger? Does this have anything to do with my father knowing your father?”