Bailey stood on the other side, wheezing slightly from the stairs. “Your grace, his grace is asking whether you have any baggage.”
“Naturally,” Grace responded, slightly irritated that the Duke might expect her to travel without luggage. “I will leave it in my chamber to be collected.”
“If it please you, I will take it downstairs for you now your grace,” Bailey puffed, moving into the room.
“Certainly not.” Grace’s reply was a little sharper than she’d intended, but she had no intention of witnessing the elderly butler suffer an apoplexy as a result of struggling downstairs with her heavy baggage. Softening her next words, she continued. “Please instruct one of the footmen to take care of it. I am sure my husband will be more than happy to wait a few moments more.”
With that, she picked up her reticule and gloves and swept past him to head down the stairs. She stumbled a little as she saw the Duke waiting unsmiling at the bottom, but thankfully managed to descend to the hall without pitching headlong into his arms. Would he even bother to catch me? she couldn’t help questioning ruefully.
Finally standing in front of her husband, she lifted her head before saying in as firm a voice as she could muster, “I will be ready to depart once I have partaken of some breakfast your grace.” She thought she saw him flinch slightly at her use of his title, but he merely nodded his head curtly before turning on his heel and heading towards his study.
“Have the coach brought round in fifteen minutes,” he bit out to Bailey who had just arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
Fighting back yet more tears, Grace walked into the dining room, seating herself for the last time at the end of the table. She had cried enough to fill an ocean, but no more. She was determined to leave with her head held high. Where this sudden surge of courage had come from, she had no idea, but whatever happened in the future, she would not disgrace herself further in the eyes of the servants, particularly as she was unlikely to see any of them again.
She feared her husband was already a lost cause.
∞∞∞
Nicholas strode over to his desk and poured himself a large brandy. It was early in the day, but he wasn’t sure he’d survive the next few hours without being slightly foxed. Swallowing the dark liquid in one go, he quickly poured another. He was unable to get the image of his wife’s regal descent of the stairs. He couldn’t help but admire her pluck. Gone was the snivelling wretch from yesterday. Today she looked like a duchess. His Duchess.
The first woman he’d ever fallen in love with. He could admit it to himself now. When it was far, far too late.
Turning, Nicholas raised his glass to the only remaining portrait of his father hidden away in the corner of the study. “I’m sure you’re having a fine time gloating old man,” he murmured bitterly. “Well you’ve certainly had the last laugh. Trapped in a marriage with a woman who abhors me.” He savoured the burning in his throat before pouring a third.
“Still, perhaps you’re not finding it quite so humorous,” he continued collapsing bleakly into his chair. “After all, you know exactly what that feels like don’t you father?”
Chapter Nineteen
This time Malcolm accompanied them on their journey, because Grace realised wretchedly, Nicholas did not wish them to be alone together. Indeed, in his haste to be rid of her, the Duke decided they would return to Blackmore without staying overnight at a hostelry, which demanded a change of horses halfway.
The only time she was allowed to alight the carriage throughout the journey was to see to her ablutions and eat a swift meal. Grace didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry when she was left to dine alone. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to force anything down had she been subject to her husband’s scowling face during the meal. She supposed Nicholas preferred to eat with Malcolm.
Her husband hardly spoke two words to her throughout the journey. She only briefly tried to engage him in conversation while the Scot was supervising the onward journey of their first team of horses once the beasts had had sufficient time to rest. He listened to her in glacial silence before stating flatly that should she utter one more word, she would find herself left behind along with the horses. She suspected he might actually have been a trifle disguised at the start of their journey and was beyond relieved when he finally fell asleep in the early hours.
Despite her weariness, Grace had been unable to stop her mind repeating over and over the events of the last few days. It did absolutely no good at all but nevertheless prevented her from finding any respite in sleep and by the time the carriage finally entered Devonshire, her whole body was aching to such an extent she couldn’t help wondering whether she’d ever be able to walk again. Staring across at her husband’s strained face, she felt unwilling sympathy, imagining the pain he was going through from his injuries.
“Try not to bother yerself too much lassie,” Malcolm murmured after glancing over at his master’s sleeping form. Surprised, Grace looked over at the valet. It was the first time the Scot spoken to her since they’d left London. “I would have spoken to ye earlier, but the Laird forbade it.” Malcolm cocked his head towards Nicholas who continued to sleep fitfully.
“He’s hurting something fierce at the moment but it’s ma belief he’ll come around eventually. He’s a stubborn one but not entirely cork brained.” Malcolm gave a soft chuckle. “The fact that he had to consume the better part of a bottle
