Silence ensued and Grace realized her husband had finished and was now regarding her quizzically. It was obvious he expected her to show at least a small amount of excitement at the thought of attending her first ball. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. All she could think about was the possibility she might trip, even fall down the stairs, of being a laughingstock. And dear God, what would happen if her wild exploits in Devonshire became common knowledge?
Nicholas was still waiting for her response and finally she cleared her throat and managed to speak, although she feared her voice was unsettlingly wooden. “I am indebted to you your grace. As a clergyman’s daughter, I could not have hoped to attend such an exalted occasion. I shall look forward to it immensely and of course to regaling my sisters with as many details as possible. They will surely be waiting with eager expectation.” She lapsed back into silence, feeling as though her heart was about to erupt violently from her chest.
Nicholas watched as his wife continued to stare determinedly out of the coach window at the scenery as it passed. Her face continued white and tense, and it was clear, despite the words that had come out of her mouth, she had no desire to attend the ball. Was it his presence alongside her she objected to? Or was she simply afraid of being out of her depth? He drummed his fingers on his knee tensely.
He detested London. When his mother was alive, they would travel to London every season with her, his father opting to ride horseback, and she would tell them stories of her childhood in the capital. Though the Duke had not wanted his wife to coddle his sons, the Duchess would sneak them out at least once during their trips to enjoy the sights of the city.
After their mother died, his father still required them to go to London, but the good times the Duchess had engineered were no more. Both Nicholas and Peter spent long hours in their father’s study instead, watching as their father interacted with his steward and solicitor on behalf of their estate.
And now that estate was his.
Nicholas sighed inwardly. He hadn’t wanted to come to London, but he’d had no choice truly. He’d been sadly remiss with regards to his wife. As much as he abhorred the custom, he needed to introduce Grace to the ton. And he needed to school and clothe her as befitted her station. Her wardrobe would be provided during their brief sojourn and he would endeavour to find a companion who would be suitable as a confidante and also provide the necessary instruction for his wife’s new rank.
Once they returned to Blackmore, he would look to employ a full complement of staff to ensure the smooth running of the estate.
Whatever his private feelings, he knew it was his duty to ensure Grace was both content and able to hold her own in society without embarrassing the Sinclair family name.
In attending the charity ball, he was also returning a favour to the man who had taken him under his wing at the beginning of his naval career and for that, he would suffer through the stares and whispers almost certain to come their way.
Watching his wife’s hands repeatedly clench and unclench, he suddenly realized she wasn’t afraid. She was terrified. Frowning, he leaned forward and was pleased to note that she didn’t shrink back. So, it wasn’t his presence she feared.
“I know that mayhap our marriage has been less than ideal up until now, but I can assure you it is my sincere wish that we do well together.” His voice was rough as he forced himself to continue. “As you are aware, I'm a private man but perhaps we might find some common ground to ensure our union is tolerable to both of us.”
Grace cleared her throat and looked for a second as if she would burst into tears. Nicholas cursed himself. His declaration hadn’t been romantic. But then he had no intention of love coming into the equation at all.
When Grace finally spoke, her voice was low, almost a whisper. “You are too generous Nicholas.”
Nicholas didn’t feel generous, in fact he felt like a complete cad, but he didn’t pursue the conversation any further, deciding instead that silence was preferable to making matters worse with his clumsy attempts at idle chatter. A mere two hours later, just as twilight descended, they pulled up in front of a coaching inn in which Nicholas had already secured them two rooms for the night.
By the time it was fully dark, they were cosily ensconced in a private dining room, Grace gratefully sipping a warming glass of mulled wine, while the Duke opted for his usual large brandy. A few minutes later their meal was brought in. A hearty mutton stew followed by a freshly baked apple pie. Simple but wholesome fare.
Despite her earlier feelings of despair, Grace found herself ravenous. Mayhap it was the third glass of mulled wine, but she began to feel a little more like herself. She had never before been this timid creature, afraid of her own shadow.
Her husband might yet cast her aside but there was no reason to suppose her activities down in the wilds of Devonshire would become cruel gossip for the ton. She sipped at her wine, mulling over her problem. Should she manage to emerge from this situation unscathed, it was imperative she curb her impulsive nature and somehow make the Duke proud of her.
Grace glanced up at her husband. His face was harshly beautiful in the torchlight,
