Grace jumped hurriedly to her feet. “Yes, yes… of course Bailey, thank you.”
Felicity was here. Grace hoped it wasn’t simply to berate her, or worse, to gloat. But revelling in another’s misfortunes was something Felicity Beaumont had never been wont to do. Perhaps she was here to request payment for her services. If that were the case, she would need to speak to the Duke.
Opening the drawing room door, Grace hesitantly walked in, spying her companion standing by the window gazing sombrely out over the square. At her charge’s entrance, she turned and composed her face into a welcoming smile.
“They will forget eventually.” The words were blunt but nevertheless edged with a calm compassion which had Grace swallowing convulsively lest she disgrace herself again.
“I… I… I am not entirely sure what words were spoken last night after our departure, but I am well able to hazard a guess.” Taking a deep breath, Grace shook her head. “I am not concerned with my own disgrace, but that of my husband. He does not deserve the ridicule of his peers."
Felicity Beaumont seated herself before responding. “I am quite sure he will weather the storm my dear, he is a duke after all. Unfortunately, you are simply a vicar’s daughter so will not fare so well.”
Grace squeezed her eyes shut in shame. “What exactly were they saying?” she whispered after a few seconds.
“Oh, much about frolicking around in hay bales and embarrassing your father to such an extent, he attempted to abduct you to prevent you bringing further shame to the Blackmore name.” Felicity waved her hand nonchalantly in the air as if the gossip were of no import.
“Dear Lord,” Grace murmured faintly. She subsided onto the sofa, just as Mrs Jenks brought in the tea. Once they were alone again, she poured with a shaking hand and only just managed to avoid spilling the liquid all over her mentor’s morning dress.
“My husband will never forgive me.” Grace stifled a sob as she attempted a sip of the lukewarm tea. “I care not about society, but rather the embarrassment I’ve undoubtedly brought to the Sinclair name. All through my own stubbornness and stupidity.”
“I doubt that very much,” responded Felicity with a snort. “I dare say you had due provocation to act as you did.” She replaced her cup decisively on the occasional table in front of her. “Before you throw yourself on the altar of martyrdom my dear, consider this. Sinclair had a reputation for, well, to put it bluntly, being a brooding ill-tempered bore. Now, he has a beautiful wife who is admittedly leading him a merry dance and he will be all the more popular for it.”
Rising from her chair, she slid on her gloves before continuing briskly. “You looked magnificent last night my dear. Never forget that. The ton will never forget it either.”
∞∞∞
Standing at the window of his study Nicholas stared distractedly at the early autumn leaves drifting across the square while he waited for his wife to answer his summons. He’d put off speaking with her until now, not sure he could trust himself to hold a civil conversation. The overwhelming hurt and betrayal he’d felt when he’d walked into the ballroom to discover that the antics of his wife had become the latest juicy on-dit on the vicious tongues of the ton churned a path in his gut that made him want to run somebody through.
Preferably his father in law.
But his torment didn’t come from the fact Grace had taken part in activities she knew would embarrass him. It was the reason she had sought to do so.
His wife had hoped he would put her aside.
Nicholas closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, forcing back the anguish he’d felt ever since he discovered the lengths Grace was prepared to go to be free of him. Well now she would have her wish.
He turned away at the sound of the door opening, his heart catching in his throat at the sight of his wife looking so broken and lost. He noted her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, her hair and dress back to the simple style she’d favoured at the start of their marriage. It seemed she had already put aside the trappings of a duchess. Perhaps she was not as heartbroken as she looked. There was no doubt in Nicholas’ mind that this had been her intent all along.
“I understand you wish to speak with me,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. Nicholas marvelled at her show of humility, reluctantly recalling the banter they’d shared regarding her persistent observation of the flooring at Blackmore. He waited until she looked up, then nodded curtly towards the chair in the front of his desk, a silent demand for her to sit down.
“I will not waste time discussing possible repercussions of your activities since your exploits have made it abundantly clear that you do not wish for us to reside in the same house as man and wife.” His voice was icy, his expression carefully blank.
“I do not wish that,” Grace protested softly, her heart sinking at his glacial tone.
Nicholas was silent for a second, then continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “We will depart for Devonshire first thing in the morning. There is a cottage on the Blackmore Estate which is suitably distant from the main house to ensure we are unlikely to encounter one another. You will remain there until such time as it becomes apparent whether or not you are with child. Should our… endeavours prove to have been fruitful, you will stay until the child is born.” His lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “Beyond that, I do not care what you do. You may remain in the house or leave as you
