CHAPTER FIVE
As Nick looked at the empty doorway through which his wife had just fled, he realized that Grace had been telling the truth when she’d said she had no wish to marry him, as had her cousin. In his arrogance he had not believed her; after all, wasn’t he a wealthy earl? Wouldn’t any woman want to be married to him?
Christ, when had he become so vain?
Disgusted with himself, anger still flowing through his body, Nick leaned his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes.
She really hadn’t wanted to marry him, but he’d insisted. Honor had been one reason, but there was more to his determination to marry Grace than just that, and he was only now realizing what that was. For years, his aunts and grandmother had demanded that he marry, throwing eligible woman into his path until he’d dreaded seeing them. They’d demanded he produce an heir, so their livelihoods would be secure should anything happen to him.
His evenings had been spent avoiding society mothers who had hounded him, presenting their daughters for him to inspect as if they were prime pieces of cattle, and so when the opportunity had presented itself, he’d taken a wife who he believed would make no demands of him. A woman he could wed and forget, a mother to his children and nothing more. Instead, he’d married Grace.
He still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Yes, he’d been angry, and perhaps he’d also been high-handed, but he was feeling his way in this marriage, just as she was. When she had simply said no when he’d questioned her about where she had been, his anger had flared.
Grace had walked into his office with one side of her hair down, the other up, her dress crumpled, her skirts splattered with mud and water, and her feet clad only in stockings, and he’d felt completely at sea. How did one deal with a wife such as the one he had?
“I have tea, my Lord,” Vidal said, appearing in the doorway.
“Take it to the countess. She is in her rooms.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
What the hell was he supposed to do now? Her attack had surprised him. He’d thought she’d just lower her head as he pointed out the error of her behavior today, but no, she’d yelled back at him.
Nick had never had a woman speak to him like that before; it was unsettling, especially when it was your wife.
My cousin saved me, Lord Attwood, when I had no one. I will not let you keep me from him.
How had Harrington saved his cousin, he wondered.
Nick had actually not wanted to keep Grace from her cousin, even though he’d said he felt Lord Harrington was responsible for her behavior. He shouldn’t have said that, but she’d angered him, and he’d struck out at her just as she had him. It was not like him; he was usually calm and reasonable and it took much to anger him. He needed to talk to her again, try to find a common ground between them so this anger and resentment did not smolder and grow.
Picking up the papers his man of affairs wanted him to sign, he worked steadily through half of them until he was calmer. Only then did he rise and leave the room.
Taking the stairs, he thought about what needed to be said. He must reason with her somehow, before she did something foolish like run away.
Let me go then, let me move back to my cousin’s, and I shall leave London for the country and you can annul the marriage.
He couldn’t do that, and as soon as he bedded her it would no longer be an option. Surely she could see he was protecting her reputation? If he were to annul their marriage, her name would be blackened, and while his would survive, the gossip would last for a long time.
He should have listened to her, believed her when she had pleaded with him to not marry her. He could have let her go to the country with her cousin, but he had not; believing she had tricked him and believing she would be a biddable wife he could manage.
“Idiot.” He shook his head, fairly certain that Grace would never be biddable and that he had wronged her in many ways. Firstly, for not believing her and then for marrying her just because she had seemed a woman he could control.
Reaching his rooms, he made for the connecting door and knocked. She did not answer, so he did so again, and still there was no reply. Nick entered the room quickly, realizing she could have gone again, left the house, and run back to her cousin.
He walked through the empty sitting room and then into her bedroom and stopped when he saw her in the bath.
“Grace.” He could barely speak at the picture she presented. When she didn’t answer, he realized that she was asleep. Nick knew he should leave, but his legs took him closer to her, stopping only when he was beside the bath. Her hair fell over the rim in long silken, blond curls, her lashes resting on her pink cheeks.
Pale shoulders led to long slender arms and breasts with full, soft curves. Her nipples were the color of ripe berries, and Nick wanted to sink to his knees and taste them. Dear God, he was aroused. The ugly misshapen clothes she wore had hidden gentle curves and a lovely lush body. She slept deeply, completely unaware that the husband she loathed stood over her.
He took one last look and then turned away, returning to his study. Nick then told Vidal to have the countess’s maid return to her room, and that he would take his meal on a tray. Attempting to push aside the vision of his wife in the bath, Nick then worked through the remainder of his papers.
He managed to finish without thinking of Grace and her soft pale skin and full breasts until he looked up again to see Vidal in his doorway.
“Will you be going out this evening, my Lord?”
“Yes, to my club,” Nick said, making the decision then and there. He needed time to cool down, time away from Grace to think rationally.
~ * ~
He spent the evening talking with friends, ignoring questions about his wife, and sharing a fine brandy with Leo, which put him in a better mood. By the time he arrived home, Nick had made the decision to consummate his marriage tonight, and to do that he would need to talk with Grace, now, before she did something rash. He had no wish to hurt or frighten her, but tonight he would make her his wife. However, before he did that he would need to help her relax in his company, because he would never force himself upon her.
Dismissing his valet, he bathed and then pulled on his dressing gown. Knocking on her door a few seconds later, she did not reply, so he entered.
A fire still glowed in the hearth, but the rest of the room was in darkness, and Grace was in bed. Moving to her side, he looked down at her sleeping form. She lay on her back, one arm above her head, the other across her waist.
“Grace.” He touched her cheek and she stirred, her eyes slowly opening.
“My Lord?” She lowered her arm and tried to sit up. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
“Can it not wait until morning?” She struggled up onto her pillows, all that beautiful hair tumbling around her shoulders. Her eyes were still sleepy and her lips soft and pink. His anger had not allowed him to see through her clothes to the beauty of the woman beneath.
“I wish for us to consummate the marriage.”
“No!” He took her hands as she shook her head.
“Yes. Let me help you enjoy this as much as I shall.”
“I could never enjoy it.”
“Grace, we will do this,” he said easing her forward and into his arms, trying not to hold her too tight as she stiffened against him. He could feel the warmth of her body, the soft curves of her breasts, as he pulled her close.
“I don’t want this, to lie with you.”
“Yet it will be done, and I have no wish to force you,” Nick said, battling against the lust that was filling his body. He’d seen her naked, knew what lay beneath the oversized nightdress. His fingers itched to touch her.
“How can you want this when just a few hours ago we spoke to each other in anger?”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Grace. We are husband and wife. Let me show you what can be between us.”
“I hate you,” she whispered, trying to push his hands away from her body.
“There is no need for this,” he said against her cheek. “Please stop fighting me.” Surprisingly, she did, her body slumping in defeat.
“Do it then,” she whispered, turning her face away from his.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But you will.”
Nick released her briefly as he got to his feet to remove his dressing gown, and the entire time she lay there with her head turned away.
“Do you know what will happen, Grace?” Nick didn’t know what to do, how to proceed. He’d never lain with a woman who did not want him, a woman who was innocent to the act he was about to commit.
“I have seen animals do it; I’m sure it is similar.” Her words were flat and cold, and he wanted her fire again, the woman he’d argued with earlier.
“Grace, look at me.” Nick moved back to her side and took her chin in his hand, turning her to face him. “It need not be like this.”
“J-just do it… please.”
He kissed her lips, teasing the soft contours of her mouth with his. He traced the seam with his tongue and she gasped, opening her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt some of the stiffness slowly leave her body as he continued to kiss her for long heated moments. Trailing his hand down her arm, he then moved to map the slopes and planes of her body, and felt the tension return as he brushed the outside of one breast.
“Will you take off your nightdress for me, Grace?”
“I want to leave it on.” She turned her face away from him once more. Her eyes were closed now, body once again rigid, hands fisted at her sides. “But I shall pull up my skirts, as I know you only need that part of me.”
She lifted her hips and eased up the hem of her nightdress, baring her body from the waist down, and Nick wondered how he could be aroused when she lay there cold and unresponsive.
“Relax, Grace,” he said, moving over her. “I will try not to hurt you.” He pushed the hair from her cheek, and then placed soft kisses on her lips until he felt her respond, only then did he let his hands move over her body once more, touching her breasts, caressing the nipples through the fabric before moving lower.
“Why are you touching my breasts?”
“Because I want you to enjoy this as much as I will.” Nick cupped her breast gently and felt her body react as once again he rubbed his palm over her nipple. “Do you like my touch, Grace?” Her hips thrust upwards in answer to his question but she did not speak. He slid a hand to her stomach, then beneath her nightdress and upwards, over her smooth skin to feel the full aching flesh, skin to skin. Nick wanted to groan in pleasure at how good her breast felt in his palm. His heart was thumping like that of a boy about to lie with his first woman.
“J-just do it… please.”
The breath hissed from her throat as he lowered his head and licked her other nipple. He continued to stroke and torment her breasts until her breathing matched his, only then did he trail his hand down her body and between her legs, which she had clamped together. Using one of his thighs, he opened them, and touched her, stroking the plump folds, rubbing the tight little nubbin.
“Relax, Grace.”
“I can’t,” she cried, turning her head away from him once more. “I d-don’t want this.”
Nick’s head was filled with her, the scent of her body and fell of her skin. He was hard and ready, yet he could not take her now, not when she was still so tense.
“You felt something, Grace, don’t deny it,” his voice was harsh as his need for her climbed. “I felt your body react to my touch.”
“N-no.”
“Yes,” Nick continued to stroke her, his fingers soon damp with her dew.
“I don’t want to feel,” her words were a ragged whisper.
She gasped as he pushed a finger inside her, stretching her tight sheath before adding another.
“I-I—”
He swallowed her words with a slow drugging kiss. Nick felt her hands grip his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin.
“I want you, Grace,” he whispered against her lips before he settled between her thighs, where he slowly eased inside her.
“Surely you are too big.”
“I will fit,” Nick gritted out as she dug her nails into his skin. He tried to go slow, tried not to cause her pain, but his final thrust took her innocence, and she cried out as he buried himself deep inside her.
“Grace, are you all right?” It was exquisite torture to feel the slick walls of her sheath wrapped around him. He couldn’t think. His head was pounding; his body desperate to withdraw and plunge back into her again and again.
“Get it done,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Y-you already have.”
Nick withdrew slowly, hoping she would feel the delicious tension that he felt, and thrust back into her, but the breath hissed from her throat. However, it was too late to stop now, he was too far gone, so he thrust into her again until he found his release.
Heart thumping, breath heaving, he rolled onto the bed beside her; she turned her head to look the other way. Nick then watched as she climbed out of bed and walked toward her dressing room. Seconds later he heard the splash of water.
Closing his eyes briefly, he wondered if he could hate himself more than he did at that moment. He’d hurt her, not taken enough time to get her to respond, and all because he had seen her naked in the bath and lust had controlled him.
Getting out of bed, he found his dressing gown and left the room, knowing she had no wish to see him again that night.
~ * ~
Grace woke earlier than usual; she knew this because the curtain was open slightly and the sun had yet to rise. Pushing aside the covers, she got out of bed, ignoring the stiffness in her body from what her husband had done last night.
She had been scared and it had hurt, but not as much as she had thought it would. Grace had felt strange when he had kissed her. Her body had seemed to stir beneath him, and a need had filled her when he had touched her. Then all that had changed as he pushed himself inside her. She had forgotten all the other feelings and her body had tensed and thankfully he was finished with her soon after.
She could not deny that he had been gentle with her. His body had been warm lying over hers, the hard planes of muscle pressing down on her, pushing her into the bed. It had not been uncomfortable; in fact, she had wanted to touch more of his skin, but she had not. Her anger toward him had still been fresh, and for him to have done that, taken her innocence when she had wanted an annulment, was unforgivable.
What would happen now between them? Would she still be able to see Harry, still help him find those missing translations? She had to. Grace had told Harry that she had thought Mr. Zavorski a shady character and that they should not do the translations for him when she had first met him. But her cousin had waved aside her worries, his eyes alight with excitement at the challenge Mr. Zavorski had presented her. Her worry now was that the Russian would hurt Harry in some way for letting someone steal the papers.
She bathed and dressed then decided on a tray in her room, as she had no wish to see her husband again so soon.
“Do you know if Lord Attwood is from home, Bessie?” Grace questioned her maid.
“He is at present taking breakfast, my Lady.”
“Please tell me when he has left the house,” Grace added, hoping he did so today, and soon.
She read, and then compiled a list of ideas on how to find who had stolen their translations. She had decided to seek help from the investigation service that had become well known for its successes. Supposedly the men behind it were noblemen, The Lords of Night Street. They had rescued kidnap victims, found stolen items, and solved a myriad of crimes, which had made headlines in the papers and no doubt increased their custom. She just hoped a few stolen letters were not too trivial for them.
“Lord Attwood has just left, my Lady.”
“Thank you, Bessie”
Grace nodded to the maid and quickly grabbed her coat and bonnet. He could not stop her from visiting Harry, however, she had no wish to have another argument with him about the matter, therefore she would avoid him wherever possible from now on.
Would he come to her room again or was last night the only time he would do so, until he wished to procure an heir? Surely he would have no further need for her now? Did he perhaps have a mistress who would see to his needs?
This thought depressed Grace, which was foolish, as she wanted no more of his attentions… did she? But he had made her feel something, and for a brief moment she had wanted more, before he’d hurt her.
Shutting those thoughts away, she vowed to examine them again later, for now she needed to see Harry and resume their search.
“May I be of assistance, my Lady?”
“Vidal!” Grace shrieked as he came up behind her.
“Apologies, my Lady.” He bowed deeply.
As usual he was immaculately turned out; unlike her, she thought, glancing down at her dull brown skirts.
“Miss Whitlow has called to see you, my Lady.”
“Oh… well then, I should see her, shouldn’t I?” Grace said, feeling her heart sink. She needed to visit with Harry. “Can you have a note delivered for me please, Vidal?”
“Of course.” He followed as she returned to her rooms and wrote a few words to Harry before sealing it. She had told him she was delayed but would arrive as soon as she was able. “Please see this gets to Lord Harrington.”
“Of course, and if you will follow me, I shall take you to Miss Whitlow.”
“Hello, Grace,” Miss Whitlow said as she entered the room. “I am glad to see you are well.”
“Good morning, Miss Whitlow.” Like the last time she had seen her, the woman was the epitome of elegance, in pale green, and like her cousin, could wear anything with that wonderful bone structure and elegant body. “Yes, I am quite recovered, thank you.”
“Beth, Grace, we established first name terms when first we met.”
“Beth,” she said dutifully, motioning for Miss Whitlow to sit.
“I have come to take you shopping,” she then said, waving away the offer of a chair.
“Have you?” Grace looked down at her dress. “I assure you it is not necessary, as I’m in no doubt you have more important things to occupy your time.”
“The Bartlet ball is in three nights, and you and Nick will be attending, surely?” Miss Whitlow said, unaware that she had just plunged Grace’s heart to her toes.
“Must I?”
“Yes. Now on your feet and we will be away to the dressmakers. It is short notice, but I shall bully Madame Nicole into creating something magnificent for you.”
“I-I’m not really good with clothing,” Grace said, hoping she would just leave.
“Now that does surprise me.”
Grace found herself laughing at the sarcasm. “In my defense, I’ve never needed to, as entering society was a rare thing for my cousin and me.”
“You are a woman, a beautiful woman,” Beth added, “and you do yourself an injustice to dress in such a manner.”
“I am not beautiful,” Grace said.
“Yes, you are, and you must do this if not for yourself then for your husband,” Beth added calmly.
She did not want to think about him, or indeed do anything that would benefit him, but she had no intention of saying those words out loud.
“Very well then, if I must. But I warn you that I have no notion of what to select or indeed what colors I should wear.”
“You leave that to me,” Beth said, taking Grace’s arm and leading her from the room and the house. She bundled her into an elegant carriage and they were soon rolling toward their destination, wherever that may be.
“Are you all right, Grace? Has my cousin treated you well?”
Grace, who had been watching the scenery pass by the carriage window, looked at her husband’s cousin. It was not this woman’s fault they had married, nor that she was unhappy, so she managed a smile. “Considering the circumstances preceding our marriage, we are rubbing along together.”
“Nick is a good man, if a little used to having things his own way,” Beth said with a smile.
“Yes, I noticed that.” Grace lapsed into silence once more as she thought about her husband. She was unused to people telling her what to do; in fact, most often it was she who directed Harry about, but she knew this would not be the case with the earl. He was a man used to making decisions for himself and others, a man used to people falling in with his wishes. Remembering his hands on her body last night, she shivered and hated herself for the small tremor of excitement that ran through her. What he had done to her was hateful, and she would never forgive him for it.
“Right, stop woolgathering, Grace, we have work to do.” These words were spoken as minutes later the carriage pulled to a stop.
It was muddy underfoot, and they had to step carefully, but reached their destination, surprisingly, without Grace toppling over. The shop was small, and she saw fabrics and trims everywhere as they entered.
“Madame Nicole, this is Lady Attwood. She needs an entire wardrobe, please, but a day dress immediately and a ball gown ready in three days.”
Madame Nicole turned her sharp eyes on Grace, studying her from neck to toe, before firing off a volley of French that Grace understood and wished she hadn’t. It was not complimentary, and contained words like shabby and horrendous, along with several unflattering comments about the fool who’d made the dress she was currently wearing.
“Really, madam, if you are too busy—”
“Come with me please, my Lady,” the seamstress said, taking Grace’s arm. Beth followed, throwing about words like overskirt and raised hemlines.
She was draped and pinned, tucked and measured, and by the time it was over, Grace was exhausted.
“I now have a greater respect for those women who are turned out immaculately night after night,” she declared, leaning her head back against the seat of the carriage.
“It certainly is not an easy process,” Beth said, smoothing the skirts of her pretty dress. “But worth it.”
“Really?” Grace had never wanted to preen, and never thought herself pretty enough to do so. Perhaps if she looked as the woman across from her did, it would be different. She had found to her surprise that she quite liked Elizabeth Whitlow. She was not empty-headed, nor prone to rambling on; she had a sharp wit and sly humor that Grace found herself enjoying.
“You are pretty, Grace, and it is a crime to see you dressed in such a….” She waved her hand about.
“Unstylish manner,” Grace supplied with a smile.
“My words were stronger, however, those will do. And your hair must be dressed properly; do you have a maid to do so?”
“Yes,” Grace sighed. “My maid has been begging me to allow her a free hand with my hair for many months, however I always insist on this bun.” Grace touched her hair.
“It is something to be excited about, Grace, not dread,” Beth said gently. “I understand it is daunting. However, I promise that given time, you will enjoy it.”
Her life was changing in so many ways. She no longer woke every day in Harry’s house with Nipper. She was no longer a virgin, and now she must change the way she dressed. It was enough to unsettle a person.
“I’m not a woman who enjoys society,” Grace admitted honestly. “I do not seem to fit.”
“Society can be a great deal of fun, Grace, I promise you. If you look the part and have someone to talk with, then you will see how different things can be.”
Grace didn’t agree, but said nothing further.
“And now I must leave you as I have to visit a friend,” Beth said as they pulled up outside the Attwood town house. “But I shall see you at the Bartlet ball.” She then kissed Grace’s cheek and left her standing bemused, watching the carriage roll away.