CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THORNE HILL, HAMPSHIRE, ENGLAND – MID-JUNE, 1814
Grace dozed for much of the rest of the way to Thorne Hill, waking only in the last half hour. Bleary eyed, she looked up at Damon in dismay. “I’m so sorry!”
“Nonsense. It’s clear you were exhausted. Besides, this way I can keep you up all night and not feel guilty.” His devilish grin made her giggle.
“Tell me more of the history of Thorne Hill,” Grace asked as they neared the estate.
“In truth, I don’t know as much as I should. Many of my childhood memories are hazy, and while I spent the winter months here before coming to London, much of that passed in a blur as I acclimated to new surroundings.” He grimaced. “And new people.”
He shifted in his seat as he looked out the window. “It’s been in the family for at least a century. I admire its architecture, but with my experiences here, I don’t feel attached to it. Not as Cassie does.”
“Cassie?”
“Yes. When I first arrived, it was she who taught me the ins and outs of the house. She knows everything about it, every servant’s name, every piece of silverware, every furnishing—even those in storage.”
Grace ran her hand over his thigh. How taut his muscles were. “Perhaps she should run it.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve considered that, actually. In truth, I’d rather return to Yorkshire. To the abbey. But I couldn’t think to ask such a sacrifice of you, to take you so far away from your family.”
“I would miss them,” she conceded after a short silence. “But my home is with you.”
The tender smile on his face showed her words had moved him. He gave her a quick kiss, his eyes smoldering.
“I wonder if you might consider living part of the year in Yorkshire and part of the year here—at Thorne Hill, or in London.”
“Like Persephone and Hades?”
He flinched. “I should hope Yorkshire would not seem the equivalent of the underworld, nor you feel a prisoner in it.”
“I was teasing, my love.”
His muscles relaxed.
“I rather like the idea of Yorkshire,” she said.
“But you’ve never been.”
“No. But anywhere with you and a fine library cannot be anything less than paradise.”
His pupils flared as he drew her face up for another deep kiss. “Keep talking like that, wife, and we shall certainly arrive in a state of undress. Thorne Hill is only a few minutes more.”
As they rounded a bend in the road, the house came into view. It did not match the grandiosity of Clarehaven, but she immediately loved its precisely symmetrical façade and the sizable windows that covered the front of the house. Sunlight always buoyed her spirits while reading, and such windows no doubt allowed many a warm ray.
A large stone staircase descended from the front door, on which the servants had lined up to greet the returning master and his new wife. As the carriage pulled to a stop at the front, a smile split Grace’s face; Daisy and Geoffrey were among the persons assembled there.
“Geoffrey!” she exclaimed, turning to Damon with a quizzical expression.
“I sent a carriage for them,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I thought we ought to have them with us, not leave them at Clarehaven. I hope you approve.”
“Of course! I am so glad to see him. Both of them.”
A footman stepped forward to open the door. Damon exited first, then held his hand out to assist Grace. She watched Geoffrey as she descended. He still made his movements, but they seemed less pronounced. His face was unsure. Were people being kind to the boy?
The butler stepped forward and introduced himself, then each of the servants in turn. Grace walked the line of them, greeting each person warmly. When she got to Geoffrey, she enfolded the boy in a hug. “I’m pleased you are here,” she said. “I hope you have been made to feel welcome.”
“Yes, ma’am, I mean, Your Grace,” he said, but he still seemed sad.
Grace frowned. She leaned in near his ear. “Is anyone being mean to you?”
His ears flushed red. “Not really, ma’am. I miss Freddy, 'tis all.”
“Then we shall have to visit him soon. And get to know some of the other children nearby.”
Damon touched her elbow and she stood, lacing her arm through his. Together, they walked through the front doors.
“Thank you again for letting Geoffrey come here,” Damon said as they entered the foyer.
“Me?”
“Yes, you, wife. I don’t think many women would want to take in a stranger’s child, much less one of lower birth and with his, um, differences.”
She stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to face him. Servants milled about, but she ignored them, focusing her complete attention on her husband.
“A child is a child,” she said, her voice low so that only he could hear. “All deserve kindness.” She touched her hand to his cheek. “All.”
Her heart swelled as his eyes moistened. He swallowed.
“I have been thinking,” she went on. “Could we help more children? Children like Geoffrey, or others without parents at all.”
She looked down at the tiled floor. “I know we couldn’t help every one, Damon, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could save at least a few? Give them the love—and education—every child deserves?”
He pulled her to him, lifting her chin to capture her in a kiss so bold, so fiery she could only clutch at his jacket sleeves as she succumbed to the fervor of their embrace. It was more than physical lust driving his passionate action, and indeed, when he broke off the kiss, he murmured against her lips.
“My God, you are indeed my saving Grace. If only …” he said, and this time a tear did fall from his eye. “If only I’d had someone like you when I was small. Someone who could have helped me.”
“You did,” she said, her own eyes welling up. “You told me. Your Mrs. Hardy. Remind me to thank her when we are in Yorkshire. And Hobbes. And Cerberus. That is more than some ever get.”
Hobbes and the cat had left in a separate carriage earlier that morning. “I wanted my wife to myself,” Damon had explained. “And Cerberus does not exactly travel well.”
She’d spied the two in the hall a moment ago. Who looked more frazzled, the valet or the animal, she wasn’t sure. Only one had borne scratches on his arms, however.
“Indeed.” Damon nuzzled against her neck. “Though I think both prefer never to ride in a carriage again. At least not together.”
She glanced around. The servants had discreetly exited the room. Had they witnessed the kiss? She should probably be embarrassed. Proper ladies did not engage in amorous embraces with their husbands in public. Then again, she’d never much valued being a proper lady.
Damon brought his hands to her face, holding her cheeks gently as he fixed his eyes on her. “I love you, Grace Blackbourne. Thank you for all you have given me. You have healed my tortured soul, tamed the wild beast.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t promise you my movements won’t ever come back. I wish I could.”
“And I can’t promise you I won’t run around with ink-stained hands, or won’t forget to eat sometimes because I’ve gotten lost in a book, or won’t hide away in the library whenever possible to avoid callers.”
He laughed, a great booming laugh that echoed through the foyer.
“As long as you let me hide with you.” His blue eyes flashed in wicked delight. “I have an even greater fondness for libraries now. And carriages. Definitely carriages.”
“Perhaps we could consider adding a bed to that list,” she said with a saucy grin. Her fingers ran down his chest and then lower, to his stomach, then lower still.
His eyes widened, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the stairs. “The house tour will have to wait. The only room I’m interested in seeing right now is my chamber. Our chamber.”
She giggled as she stumbled after him. “Indeed, my husband.”
Reaching the top, he swung her up into his arms and carried her down the hallway, planting kisses all around her face as they went.
“And then the library, my beloved wife,” he said. “Most definitely the library.”