White Regency 03 - White Knight (17 page)

When Grace came from her bedchamber the
following morning, it was later than her usual waking hour. Rather than
breaking her fast in the parlor with the usual biscuits and toast and sometimes
eggs, she had taken her morning tea in bed, lingering there, listening to the
sounds of Christian moving about in his chamber. She heard his bootsteps on the
hall passing her door and her breath caught as she stared at her door and
waited to see if he would stop. Still she hoped even as she knew he wouldn’t.
Instead, he continued past her chamber, down the stairs, stopping to talk to
Forbes before leaving. Grace stood at the window and watched through the glass
as he climbed into the Knighton coach, ordering Parrott to take him to his
club, White’s. He never once looked up to see her.

As she stood in the doorway to his study
now, it could almost seem as if the things he’d said the previous night had
never been spoken. The darkness and shadow that had closed in on her a handful
of hours earlier had vanished in the light of day. The fire was naught but a
gray pile of ash. No imprint of his body even remained in his chair. Still
nothing could take away the memory of Christian’s hateful words to her—even now
they echoed through her thoughts.

Quite frankly, Grace, you could have been
anyone…

From the moment Grace had first seen
Christian, staring up at him from where she had fallen at his feet in his
dressing room the night of the Knighton ball, she had known in her heart that
he was the one Nonny had spoken of to her, her perfect knight, the man she
would love for the rest of her life. He could chide her for being a dreamer,
but no dream had ever been so clear, so absolutely known. It had been just as
Nonny had told her it would be—a realization that for as long as she might
live, the man who would hold her heart would be Christian. Without question.
Without doubt.

Only Nonny hadn’t told her what she should
do when her knight didn’t love her in return.

Christian did not love her; he didn’t even
like her. Knowing this didn’t lessen her love for him in any way, but with the
dawning of the new day, her tears barely dried upon the linen of her pillow,
came another realization, as clear as the certainty of her love for Christian.

No matter how much she might love
Christian, how much she might want him to love her in return, he never would.

Only in the moment that he had spoken
those words to her had Grace accepted the truth she had seen shadowing
Christian’s eyes every day of their brief and unfortunate marriage. There had
always been something— something odd, something so obviously missing. Only now
did she know what it was. Christian had been forced to wed her by his
grandfather, the duke, unhappily and unwillingly. Despite the fact that her
uncle had arranged the match for Grace, ultimately, she had made the decision
to become Christian’s wife. She had wanted it— heavens, she had thrown her all
into it. She had never considered that Christian might not have been a willing
participant. She had been so taken with the idea of spending the rest of her life
with the handsome, charming man she had met at the Knighton ball, so lost to
the myth of Nonny’s promises, she had never thought of what he might be
thinking, what he might be feeling— or
not
feeling.

Now that Grace realized the truth of the
feelings he had tried so carefully to hide from her, she was left with but one
more thought: How on earth she was going to spend the rest of her life living
with him, seeing him, being near to him, knowing he had never wanted her in his
life?

It was the thought Grace had spent the
early morning hours mulling through in her bedchamber. Over and over she saw
Christian’s face lit by the fire in his study the night before, the dullness in
his eyes as he has spoken those words. It left her feeling emptier inside than
she had ever thought possible.

Her parents had preferred to travel the
world, leaving her behind to be raised by someone else, stopping for a visit
now and again to remark on how much she’d grown as if it were more an
obligation than a treat. Uncle Tedric, in the role of her guardian, had sought
to dispose of her through the most lucrative and rapid means he could find.
Even Nonny, who had been the sole constant in her life, had eventually gone and
with her the only life Grace had ever known. And now Christian—Grace wondered
if it was simply her lot in life to be forsaken and abandoned by those whom she
loved, those who should have loved her.

Much later that afternoon, near the supper
hour, Grace sat in the parlor alone. The house was silent, for everyone else
had gone out, and the atmosphere was as solemn as if the very walls realized
the futility of her future. Her afternoon tea had grown cold in its pot on the
table beside her. The book she had been attempting to read the past hour lay
face down on the seat beside her. Christian hadn’t returned all day and,
according to Forbes, he hadn’t said when or even if he’d return. For the barest
of moments Grace had wondered that perhaps he might be off elsewhere, with
someone else, someone whose presence hadn’t been forced upon him, someone he
had chosen freely. Even though she knew it was a thing considered quite normal
among the
ton,
the thought of Christian touching another woman so
intimately, bestowing on someone else the only affection he had ever shown her,
caused her throat to tighten even as tears came to her eyes.

Grace pushed her troubled thoughts away
and took up her book once again, Virgil’s
Aeneid.
She sought to distract
herself with reading—anything to put a stop to the thoughts that had darkened
the entirety of the day. Perhaps Virgil could offer some answers. She promptly
opened to a single, telling line:
‘Fata viam invenient.’

She whispered aloud its meaning in
English. “Fate will find a way.”

In the very next moment, there came a
knocking at the door. Grace looked up from the page just as Forbes opened the
door.

“My lady, pardon my interruption, but
there is a visitor for you. A Mr. Jenner.”

“Jenner?” She shook her head.
“I’m afraid I do not know such a person.”

Forbes came forward to deliver the man’s
card on a salver, bowing his head. “He presented this to me with his
request to see you.”

Grace took the card up, reading its
inscription.

Charles Jenner, Solicitor.

“Perhaps you misheard him, Forbes. I
would think, given his profession, he would need to speak with Lord Knighton,
not me.”

“He stated your name quite clearly,
my lady. In fact he referred to you as the former Lady Grace Ledys of
Ledysthorpe.”

Curious, Grace asked Forbes to show the
man in. At the very least, the visit would provide a diversion to the
despondency that had shadowed the day. She set aside her book and teacup and
stood to meet her caller.

Mr. Charles Jenner, solicitor, was a short
man, stout, with spectacles that made his eyes appear quite a bit larger than
they actually were. He was dressed as a member of his profession, brown frock
coat over nankeen trousers, top hat, and square-toed shoes with high quarters
lacing up the front. He stopped just after entering the room and smiled, bowing
his head in greeting. “Good day, Lady Knighton. Thank you for consenting
to see me without an appointment.”

Grace nodded and motioned for him to sit,
then lowered into the seat across from him. She asked Forbes to bring a fresh
pot of tea and waited while Mr. Jenner removed a sheaf of papers from the satchel
he carried with him.

“Lady Knighton, I shan’t take up much
of your time. I have come with some documents requiring your signature.”

“Documents, sir? For me?”

“Aye, my lady. It is for the transfer
of the property.”

Grace nodded then, her initial suspicions
confirmed. “It is as I thought, Mr. Jenner. You should be meeting with my
husband, Lord Knighton, or perhaps his solicitor. They have handled the
particulars of my dower.”

Mr. Jenner shook his head, shuffling
through his papers. “Oh, no, my lady, it is not a dower property I speak
of. I come about a family holding that has been held until now in trust for
you. It was previously held by your grandmother, my previous employer, Lady
Cholmeley. It was to become yours upon your marriage.”

Grace was confused. “But I understood
that all of the Ledys family holdings are entailed to my uncle, Tedric, Lord
Cholmeley.”

“Oh, this is not a Ledys holding, my
lady. It is a MacRath property.”

“MacRath? That was my grandmother’s
family name.”

“Aye, my lady. ‘Tis through her that
you have received this, a gift of real property, to be transferred to you upon
your marriage.”

In all the times they had spoken of the
future and Grace’s eventual marriage, Nonny had never once said anything to her
of any property that would come to her. Obviously, she must have known of it.
“Where is the property located, Mr. Jenner?”

“Let me see.” He shuffled
through his papers a bit more, “It is a Scottish property, called
Skynegal. It is the ancestral home of your grandmother’s family on Loch
Skynegal in the coastal north Highlands area of Wester Ross. Oh, and there is a
letter for you here from your grandmother.”

Grace took the folded parchment from Mr.
Jenner. Her breath caught as she read her name written in the familiar script
of her grandmother’s hand. She felt a strange sensation, not unlike a chill,
that reached from her fingers around the letter.

“Will you please excuse me a moment,
Mr. Jenner? I should like to read my grandmother’s letter in private.”

The man nodded and Grace thanked him,
leaving the room. Forbes was just coming from the kitchen with the tea tray and
she instructed him to serve their guest while she crossed the hall to
Christian’s study and closed the door. She sat on a bench near the window and
slipped her finger beneath the imprinted seal to open her grandmother’s letter.
Her fingers trembled as she began to read the words contained within.

My
dearest child, if you are reading this letter then I have gone on to meet my
loved ones in heaven. I hope you are not grieving, dear, because I have long
waited for this time. I shall miss you. You have grown to be a lovely young
woman, very much like myself at your age. You have been my only happiness since
I lost my children, your father and mother, but I find myself growing more
tired each year that passes. I welcome my eternal rest.

Since
I have charged Mr. Jenner with bringing you this letter, you have also just
learned of Skynegal and your inheritance of it. The name of the estate is
derived from the native Gaelic ‘Sgiathach’ which means the ‘winged’ castle, and
when you first see it, you will understand why. I had hoped to one day take you
there myself, to see my great-grandchildren running about the same hills I ran
about as a child, but if that is not to be, then I must charge you with the
task. Skynegal is my own gift to you. It was my home as a child and a very
special place. ‘Twas here my own knight first came to me, where we first danced
and where I knew he would be my only love.

Not
long after I married, Skynegal was left unoccupied. It was to have gone to your
father and mother, and through them, to you, but as you know, that was not to
be. Over the years, I have received news of the estate accounts and have done
what I can to maintain it from afar. It is my dearest wish that you will do
what I could not and use your special talents to see Skynegal restored to the
special place it once was.

There
is an account of substantial size that has been set aside to enable you to
bring this wish to pass. Skynegal is a part of you, my dearest
—
your past and your future. It is your heritage and
it is now my gift to you. Trust that it is there you shall find what you are
looking for.

Now
as ever… your dearest grandmother, Nonny.

Grace folded the letter carefully, but
didn’t immediately get up to leave. She turned to look out the window, staring
at the street, watching the carriages and the people pass by. A bird chirped
happily from a nearby elm. A dog barked. Moments passed as she listened to the
sounds of life outside and thought over the words her grandmother had written
to her.

Trust
that it is there you shall find what you are looking for …

And in that moment, it all came clear to
her. All of her life Grace had felt as if something were missing— some plan, a
destiny that she was meant to fulfill. All her life she had known a niggling
sense of searching, but she had never known what it was she was searching for.
There had been an emptiness deep within her that at first she had attributed to
the loss of her parents and then later to Nonny. When she had married
Christian, she had thought that she could fill that emptiness with him, with
being his wife, loving him, bearing his children, finally being a part of a
family instead of someone left behind by memories of one. But perhaps that
hadn’t been her purpose after all.

Grace believed that for everything in
life—from the fiercest lion to the tiniest mouse—there was a purpose.
“Things
happen for a reason,”
Nonny had always said.
“They take us
further down the road we were meant by God to walk.”