Chapter Eighteen
After
The morning of the seventh week after their marriage scarcely dawned with heavy gray clouds, threatening to rain. Grace looked out from bed with a satisfied smile. This was the first day of the rest of their lives. She didn’t want to mark it, and indeed the weather wasn’t bestowing on it the glory it deserved.
Today, she would find the perfect moment to tell Everett she loved him; that would complete their happiness together. They hadn’t discussed this milestone, but it had become a given that she would stay. Everett had put aside the particulars of London townhouses, preparations were being made for the harvest festival, and the training store, as she had come to think of it, was coming along well.
This day, the start of their non-bargain wedded life together, was just like any other except for her full-to-bursting heart. They breakfasted, companionably reading the news and read aloud interesting passages to each other, and she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. While working, she kept looking up and finding him watching her, an equal grin on his face. It was tacit, but each of them knew the significance of the day, and like a shared secret, it was all the sweeter for not being said out loud.
She caught his eye again and her heart thudded with the love she saw there.
Everett put down his pen. “Grace,” he said, his voice warm and low.
“M’lord, m’lady.” A harassed-looking John nearly managed to introduce the dowager before she swept into the room.
They jumped up, a cold breeze cutting the moment and whatever Everett had been about to say.
Grace gave her a polite curtsy. “Good morning, Lady Westbury.”
It felt odd to address another woman with what she now considered to be her title. Even if the older lady had held it for much longer than Grace had, she wasn’t used to seeing her. Since the evening of their wedding day, her mother-in-law had pointedly ignored her. It was surprising she was calling on them now, but that was no reason to be inhospitable. Their study was a comfortable space for Everett and her, but the dowager would loathe it.
“Shall we have our conversation in the parlor?” Grace asked. “I’ll ring for some tea.”
“I’ve already ordered tea in the blue parlor.” The dowager swept back out of the room, leaving them to follow.
She shared a wry smile with Everett, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, Sorry.
She dismissed the rudeness with a shake of her head. The dowager was likely used to ordering things in this house, and habits were difficult to break. They followed her into the more formal room. Once they were seated, tea had arrived and been poured, the dowager regarded her with a pinched expression. Everett took Grace’s hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She glanced across at him to show him that she was fine.
“You two don’t have to keep up your farce with me,” the dowager said.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mother.” Everett didn’t relinquish their point of contact.
Grace frowned. No one knew about the six weeks except them. They’d been so careful. What had the dowager heard? The gossip in London had died down weeks ago, according to Caroline.
The dowager ignored him and addressed Grace. “When are you going to leave?”
“I’m not leaving.”
Everett’s shoulders lowered slightly into a more relaxed pose. He hadn’t really doubted, had he? Admittedly, they’d left it unsaid, except for that memorable time that he had made her so crazy with lust, she would have said anything.
She could say she loved him now and put all his concerns to rest. It was private, though, not something for his mother to witness. Certainly not this first time she said it. She wanted to tell him when she could watch his eyes for his reaction and touch him as he returned the words.
There was a more pressing question. “What would make you think I was going to leave?”
The older countess waved her hand vaguely. “When one’s son marries so quickly, one finds out about the lady in question. I have heard about your little ‘arrangement.’”
She made it sound sordid. Grace felt herself flush. “It’s not what you think.” The words tumbled out, and they made it sound worse. She wanted to explain that though it had started that way, their bargain was all in the past now. It had been grubby, but it wasn’t anymore. She opened her mouth to do so, but nothing came out. What business was it of the dowager anyway?
“I know about your baby born out of wedlock. I know that she is your child.” The dowager looked down her nose with an air of righteous authority.
Panic shot through her, even as she suppressed the urge to laugh. Well, that was more than she knew about herself.
“That’s enough, Mother.” Everett brows were low and his countenance dark. “If you cannot be polite to my wife, I must ask you to leave.”
Politeness was the least of their concerns. A marriage of convenience was a scandal, but fornication was a sign of immorality. Grace would be denounced as unsuitable and contaminated and thus, no judge in Chancery would allow her to look after her brother. A bolt went through her. How could she get Henry to safety now? This could only be the work of Rayner.
“I know about your illicit affair with a man before your marriage, and that you have hoodwinked my son into marrying you. I know that you are going to run off, leaving him out of pocket from your theft.” The dowager seemingly didn’t even hear her son.
The dowager’s story was a combination of inaccuracies delicately interwoven together to make a discourse almost more credible than the reality. It reminded Grace of the deceit she and Anna had spun. It was futile to deny, as the explanation was even stranger. The knowledge that she was going to lose everything she’d worked so hard for was wire through her limbs. “Supposing any of this were true, which it is not, what are you hoping to achieve?”
“Leave before any further humiliation is brought upon this family.” The dowager turned to Everett. “You can still obtain an annulment and make a better choice.”
Everett laughed and shook his head, as though his mother had made a sweet joke, rather than a dire insult. “I can’t make a better choice than Grace.” He looked at her as he said the words, and the feel of it was like slipping into a feather bed, comfortable and right.
“She has a child out of wedlock, Everett.” Her virtuous indignation was palpable.
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry to contradict you, Mother, but that is utterly wrong. You must complain about the accuracy of the gossip you are receiving. It is low quality.”
They exchanged a look and Grace felt her worry recede. He loved her and they’d find a way to sort this, together.
“And I’m sorry, but he can’t get an annulment.” She couldn’t contain her smile at how thoroughly he couldn’t claim to have not consummated their marriage. They would confirm that several times tonight. It was a strengthening thought. Even now, she might be pregnant from their repeated consummations of their marriage.
“I’m not sorry,” Everett said under his breath, and her smile broadened.
“A technicality. If you are absent, he can find a way.” The dowager glowered at them.
Absolutely not. Not for all the gold in Cornwall.
“That supposes I want to find a way. I love Grace. She isn’t what you say, and even if she were, it wouldn’t matter. I am not blind to her faults, like you were to Father’s.”
The dowager’s face began to turn an unflattering shade of scarlet.
“His debts, and Peter’s, were the initial reason for my marrying Grace. It would behoove you to remember that when you want to take some lofty moral position.”
The woman flicked at her skirts, folding and unfolding her hands.
“And Grace is going to stay, because we are a perfect match. A pair.”
Were there any words more romantic than being one of a pair? Grace’s skipping heart didn’t think so, even as her heart ached for the callous destruction Rayner had done.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Everett,” said the dowager. “You are quite forgetting your position and responsibilities.”
“Your son works every day, all day, to make this estate profitable.” She was surprised she didn’t feel angry, just sad for Everett and the sacrifices he’d made. “He’s committed everything to the Westbury estate and name. Surely it isn’t unreasonable he should have his own choice of wife?”
The dowager gave her look of superiority and disapproval. “But it was hardly a choice for him, was it? And you are planning to leave.”
“As I have said already, I am staying.” Saying it lightened her.
An expression of contemplation played around the woman’s lips. “Very well. On your heads be it.” She rose smoothly and adjusted her skirt hem with a practiced movement. “You will call on me later in the week to discuss the barouche.” Without further comment, she left.
“What just happened?” Grace murmured as the door closed, her stomach falling. Though she knew what had happened. Her only plan to get Henry back had just plunged into a dark hole and for a moment, she felt the same.
“Bluster and nonsense.” He shook his head. “There’s no evidence. We’ll face it down.”
“Are you sure?” The sort of accusations Rayner had started were damaging.
“It does change things, but I think that’s for the best—”
“My lady?” Thompson appeared at the door. “We had arranged to talk about the specification of the shop fittings for the Women’s Work teaching rooms.”
“He’s not a man to be denied when he needs detailed measurements.” Everett quirked his eyebrow.
Grace frowned. Why did he think rumors about her were for the best? They threatened everything she’d fought for.
“We’ll talk later. But don’t worry.” Everett squeezed her hand. “Henry will be fine.”
They shared a smile that heated Grace all over with reassurance and desire like a caress over her skin and a soft blanket over her. They would face Rayner together. And until then, she’d concentrate on doing some good for the women here.
Everett turned to Thompson. “How was your honeymoon?”
“Devon was… Err. Yes. Thank you.” Thompson coughed. “I have the drawings waiting for you in the study, my lady.”
Back in the study, Thompson and she went through all the requirements of the shop space. While they conversed, she could feel Everett’s attention on her, though he was writing a letter.
As soon as Thompson left the room, he set down his pen and stared unabashed at her. “Let me have you.” His quiet words were somewhere between a request and a demand.
Everett was lounged back in his chair, his coat emphasizing his wide shoulders. Letters and papers were spread across his desk, forgotten. His gaze was like a hot hand on her skin. His beautiful mouth was curved upward. The thought of where his mouth had been only last night made her flush. “What do you mean?”
“Everything.” His voice was low and intense. “Let me have you in any way that makes you color like that. Come here.”
Yes. Her heart thumping, she scraped back her chair. She swept her skirts aside and walked around the desks to stand in front of Everett. His slight smile had extended into a grin. He reached up and grabbed her, toppling her onto his lap. His mouth found hers and he held her firmly at her waist. She wasn’t going anywhere. She kissed him greedily as he loosened her dress and corset to reveal her breasts. Then he dipped his head to lick her nipples, drawing a mew of need from her.
“Grace,” he exhaled her name like a benediction against her skin. “I’ve been thinking of this all morning. Do you trust me?”
She did. She trusted him so entirely it scared her. An affirmative was hardly out of her mouth, before he’d lifted her and pushed and turned her onto the desk, chest down, her bared breasts against the hard surface. Excitement and the thrill of arousal raced through her. Liquid pooled at her core. His hands ran up her legs, lifting her skirts as they went. She shivered in anticipation when he pulled her drawers down and the cool air touched her bare thighs.
There was a rustle of fabric behind her, then his hands spread her and he thrust, filling her up, deep and hard. It was a sudden invasion, and it made her gasp. But she was already ready, his length filling a space that hadn’t existed a moment before, except as a vague ache brought about by his look and his words.
He grasped her hands and stretched her arms out to the side, shoving a pile of letters across the polished wood surface, and a flurry of paper fell to the floor. She felt the warmth against her back as he covered her body with his own. The weight of him against her was masculine and demanding. His breath was hot against her cheek as he whispered about how beautiful she was, that he wanted her so much, that he loved her and thought of her every minute of every day.
All the time, he stroked in and out of her, building up a strong rhythm, stretching her out, intensifying her pleasure.
It was as if he was pushing her into confession, making it impossible to hold back. Her moans were unintelligible, but began to take shape. She wanted to tell him, his lovemaking pulled it from her, and her mouth formed the words. “I love you. I love you.”
He moaned in response.
Grace shuddered as Everett released her and stroked down her sides, enhancing the feel of his male part inside her, hard against her slipperiness. He gripped her hips, pulling her back onto him for firm thrusts that pushed her higher. Then next thing she knew, while keeping hold of her with one hand, he was stroking her from underneath between her legs as he pounded into her with the other, the sensation coming from all around. His body was above her, inside her, and they were together. Grace cried out as waves of feeling crashed over her.
Everett increased his pace as she clenched and drifted down from her climax. The desk shifted from their effort, and there was the sound of another cascade of papers falling off the desk. His member swelled inside her and it was too much, too good. He groaned as he came, and she thought she could feel that, too, a deliciously firm pressure at the top of her passage, all the way in her.
They stayed joined for some minutes, Everett pressing kisses into her hair, her neck, and onto the edge of her jawline. She was replete. Finally, the heat of him disappeared from her back. Large but gentle hands replaced her drawers and drew down her skirts, smoothing them.
“Turn over,” he murmured.
Grace wriggled awkwardly up and around on the table so she was sitting rather than lying, and her open dress was exposed to him. He was closing up his trousers and tucking in his shirt, scrutinizing her. He was careful and focused on her body as he pulled up her corset and dress slowly into a semblance of decorum, examining her breasts and arms as he did so.
“Are you hurt?”
“Pardon?” She was still weak from her release.
He shot her a chagrined look and took first her left hand, then her right, turning them over in his, stroking across her palm gently, as if checking for any blemish. “I took you roughly on my desk.”
He was worried about her, concerned he’d been too rough and hurt her. Perhaps he was worried she had done this act for him, instead of with him. Her chest tightened.
“Poor desk.” She swept her arms across the table, toppling a couple more piles of letters onto the floor. “Whoops,” she deadpanned. “We do seem to have been a little rough with your desk, don’t we?”
Everett caught her up, pulling her onto her feet and into his arms. “Just correspondence.” His eyes were filled with relief. “Though, unless you want the whole household to know what we have been up to, we had better tidy it up.”
Grace wrinkled her nose and huffed, “It was more your fault than mine.”
He chuckled and reached up to rub at the arch of her nose, smoothing the lines. “Don’t frown. If the wind changes, you’ll be stuck like that.”
Ridiculous man. “Well, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?” she said, moving out of his embrace and starting to pick up the letters spread across the floor. “You wouldn’t want to throw me onto your desk if I was ugly.”
He knelt down beside the other side of the desk. “Darling, you quite mistake me. That was not me throwing you.” His dark head tilted down as he swept up the paper.
His dexterous fingers gathered the sheets. Those hands had touched her, just minutes ago. He was furled, banked power compared to the rawness of the want he had exposed to her. He was truly beautiful.
“That was me laying you on the desk.” His grin was positively wicked. “I reserve throwing for the bed only.”
Grace looked away, embarrassed, and reached out for some stray letters. For all they’d done together, she still felt as vulnerable and transparent as a single gossamer thread when he saw her need for him. She concentrated on picking up the evidence of their passion. The papers were a mix of single page formal letters, addressed to Lord Westbury. “I’m not sure if the two are so different. It felt like a throw, to me.”
“Hardly. I can throw you onto the bed later, darling. If you would like it.”
“You mean that you would like it.” She hid her grin by scooping up another handful of letters. She glanced at the letters as she stacked them. Everett. The familiar way of addressing her husband by his Christian name jumped out at her among the other dense pages of writing about timber prices and roof leaks. And then, her name was there. Alnott.
“I could make you like it, too,” he said in a promising tone that would normally send a shiver of want though her.
The letter was dated a few days ago, about the time they’d been getting on perfectly, easing into a new closeness. As she read, a sensation like cool water down her spine went through her.
How is your seduction plan for your wife going? Is the whole Alnott dowry yours yet? The damn money lender has begun to hassle me as well about Peter’s debts. I’d be much obliged if you would hurry up. You said it wouldn’t be difficult, remember? You said she was quite pretty and it wouldn’t be too much of a chore to seduce her. Are you finding her satisfactory?
“Grace? What are you reading?” There was a note of alarm in his voice.
It was like she had drunk the poisonous letter, rather than read it. It seeped hurt down her already aching chest, through her heart, down to her belly, and across to her arms. She was so cold. She had been in an inferno of his lust and attention and love— Well, not that last one, clearly.
It was like she imagined those baths in Budapest she’d heard about, where you sit in a hot room and relax every muscle, then plunge into a cold pool. Frigid reality, after the luxury of the hot saunas and baths, was how she felt now. She had let herself be lulled into a sense of security with him and affection toward him. She hadn’t known how complete her feelings for him were until this letter had cut through all the protection she thought she had around her heart, showing that it had already been inundated. Seeing it had all been a con on his part made her feelings real. And more painful, because they’d been entwined with the thought that he loved her. He had declared his love, of course, but the idea had begun to seep into her. She had seen evidence of his affection in every request for her opinion and his concentration on what she cared for.
Here was evidence that he had been playing a part all the time. It was as though his love was a physical thing that had been ripped from her chest.
She stumbled to her feet and Everett was there, reaching for her, or reaching for the letter. She jerked away from him.
“What is your brother’s debt?” Already, she could feel the cool that had protected her when she’d been sent away to Geneva returning. The fronds of ice crept through her, preserving her vital organs even as they incapacitated her.
“What?”
She flicked overleaf to see the letter’s sign off. “It’s from George. Your younger brother.” His brother who lived in London, perfectly positioned in society to spread rumors that would make it pointless for her to spend her dowry on getting her brother.
“Grace, you have to understand—” He reached for her again and she evaded with a flinch and a backward step. His eyes filled with dismay and she steeled herself.
“How much is it?”
He swallowed, then held her gaze steadily. Unsaid things hovering in the air between them. “Twenty thousand pounds. Or thereabouts.”
Grace had no comprehension of how one person accumulated that sort of debt. By all accounts, Everett’s father had taken years of bad investments to achieve only half that amount of debt that had become the mortgage on Larksview. But suddenly, the answer was so obvious. “Gambling debts.”
Everett nodded tersely.
“I specifically asked about gambling. You lied.”
“You asked whether I was a gambler.” He clenched his jaw. “I’m not.”
“I asked about your debts, and you said there were no others.” She wanted him to have a legitimate excuse, though she knew it was impossible.
“They are not my debts. They are—they were—my brother’s debts. I don’t gamble.”
“A persnickety detail. Your brother, Lord Westbury. You are now Lord Westbury. Therefore, they are your debts. You took them on with the earldom.” Her anger was an east wind, shriveling every tender plant in its wake. “This letter. Your brother says you were going to seduce me, and he asks about the dowry. You planned this from the start.”
His every kind action now took on a taint. Taking her sailing, being so patient with her, understanding about her distrust of lords. Her misgivings had been correct.
He leaned toward her, his gray gaze steady on her face. “I didn’t plan to fall in love with you.”
His voice was gravelly and for a moment, Grace leaned toward him, almost hypnotized.
Then the words in the letter were in her mind again. A chore to seduce her. Her frozen heart had cracked, but didn’t soften. His declaration of love was what she wanted to hear. She wanted him to say that this had transcended all their original mistakes and misconceptions. She wanted this to be other than what it seemed.
“You don’t think I’m going to fall for that, do you?” She couldn’t lie to herself or listen to his lies.
His head bowed, he turned away. She watched as he sat at his desk, still surrounded by chaotic paper from where they’d been making love on it only minutes before.
He put his head in his hands and was silent for a moment, then muttered, almost to himself, “It started badly. But it’s not like that… I… It’s… I didn’t mean…”
Hadn’t she thought something so similar only hours ago, talking to his mother? But it had started so much worse than she’d thought. Everything beautiful they’d built in these weeks was on top of a mire of deception.
Grace looked at his lowered head, his hair flowing around his fingers. He looked desolate. She stemmed the trickle of sympathy. “You didn’t mean to manipulate me? You planned to seduce me, but it’s not really like that because I found out?”
Everett shook his head silently.
“That’s what I thought.”
Here was another man who betrayed her. Samuel had never fought for her; her father had tried to sell her to the nearest lord; Rayner had forced her maid; and Everett had seduced her for money.
There was nothing more. It was over. She strode to the door and yanked it open.
“Grace, stay,” he ordered.
She didn’t turn. Her voice was harder than she intended when it came out. “You broke our bargain. You lied about your debts, and you always intended to prevent me from leaving. By claiming your ‘husbandly rights.’”
A crash made her jump. She jerked around to find Everett inches from her, brows low, muscles taught, eyes blazing.
“What of your promises?” he shouted. He kicked the door shut and his voice descended to an abrasive undertone. “You think the servants didn’t notice you all but ignoring me? They all know. You decimated our bargain before I could.”
Her heart thudded, and she fought the urge to step backward. “It’s not comparable. Your conditions were intended to trap me, and more crucially my dowry, here.” She hadn’t thought much about their promises since that day, but now it was horrifyingly clear. All the things he’d made her promise had been ways to ensnare her. Pretending to be in love; staying with him for six weeks; not leaving if she was pregnant. They were all things that increased her likelihood of staying, whether she wanted to or not. “What you were really asking was whether I would be liable to fall in love with you and give you my dowry. And I was.”
“I turned out to be the one more prone to falling in love, I think.” There was resentment in his words, and despite everything, it sliced at her.
She fought back. “You were willing to manipulate me to get my money. My conditions were intended to ensure I could protect my brother from a man who is only concerned with his own selfish lust, and who is allowing my brother to be beaten as we speak.”
“That’s ridiculous, he wouldn’t do that.” Everett shook his head. “Henry is a young heir to a large fortune. Rayner will do everything to look after him and be beloved to him. I’d never allow him to stay with Rayner if I thought otherwise.”
Her mouth dropped open in astonished fury. “If you’d known my cause was sensible enough, you wouldn’t have tried to steal money from me? Who made you saint enough to be the judge of whether causes are worthy? A woman wanting to live independently might not be socially acceptable, but that doesn’t make it morally wrong. I didn’t try to con you out of your half of the dowry when I heard about your father’s bad investments.”
“Grace.” His expression was pained.
The words were like daggers in her mouth. “You would have tried to seduce me even if I’d refused to make the pledges you asked for, but I wouldn’t have married you if I’d known.”
The words hung in the air like choking London smog. A muscle in Everett’s jaw twitched. He seemed on the edge of his control. “You knew I needed money.”
True, she just had not known he needed more money than she had offered. But surely… There was a thin crack of hope. “Default on the debt. A gambling debt is hardly honorable. Just refuse to pay.”
“It’s not that simple. A gentleman pays his debts. I cannot let the Westbury name be synonymous with vice and mismanagement any longer.”
A gentleman. A gentleman wouldn’t act thus, putting his wife after every other consideration. “I didn’t know you’d prostitute yourself to keep up a silly notion of family pride.”
“Is that what you thought of our lovemaking?” His voice rose with anger and something else that Grace didn’t recognize. “That I treated you like a whore?”
“No.” She looked straight into his steely eyes. “I was the gullible young punter, believing in your false declarations and calculated touches.”
He drew back slightly, as though she’d hit him, and his eyes closed. When he reopened them, they seemed opaque. “There was nothing false about what we shared. I tried to make something good from this farce.”
He reached for her hand and she swiped it away, behind her back.
“It is good.” His gray eyes looked straight into hers.
Her heart squeezed. They had made something wonderful. Briefly. She wanted to believe that it was real. Ignoring the impulse, she shook her head. “I surmise you are trying to delude yourself, as you aren’t fooling me.”
This time, he didn’t try to stop her leaving.