Chapter Six

The sunlight blinded Grace as she opened her eyes, taking a few moments to look at the unfamiliar room. It was lovely, with the soft colours of blue and green in the wallpaper matching the sumptuous blue carpet covering the floors. When Mrs. Tenner had shown her the room, Grace had nearly laughed aloud at the absurd thought that it was larger than all her sisters’ rooms put together.

The bed was large enough for all seven of her sisters as well, and it had taken Grace some time to get used to the softness under her body as she’d lain there, waiting on her husband.

Her cotton gown had suddenly seemed silly as she’d donned it for his arrival, wishing she’d had something a bit more, well, fitting for a duke, something that made her feel truly beautiful.

Not that it mattered. Her door had remained closed all night, and in the bright morning light, Grace felt like a fool to even think that he would come to her room. Their marriage had been nothing more than a business arrangement, and while she had not been privy to the real reason the Duke had married her, it certainly wasn’t because he wished to be in her company.

A frustrated breath left her lungs, and Grace threw aside the heavy coverlet, sitting on the side of the bed. While she didn’t want to be married any more than her husband did, they were tied together for the rest of their lives. The heavy ring on her finger told her so. She had to assume that the Duke wished for an heir. Why else would he bother taking a wife? And for her, the only thing that could possibly make the arrangement even remotely tolerable was for her to have a child.

While she might not be an expert in matters of the flesh, she knew there was no chance of that if her husband did not actually come to her bed. Somehow, she had to change that.

Which meant she needed to learn about her husband, about his likes and dislikes as well as the real reason he hadn’t sought out her bed on their wedding night.

Quickly dressing, Grace tied her hair back with a simple ribbon before hurrying out of her room and down the hallway, trying not to gawk at the finery surrounding her. It was hard for Grace to believe that this was her home now, that these were her possessions.

That she was the Duchess of Blackmore.

As she descended the stairs, she heard voices coming from an open door, one of which sounded suspiciously like her new husband.

What should she say to him?

Would he even talk to her this morning? Grace wondered if he’d ever be able to give her a look that did not equate to a frown. Mayhap now was the time to find out.

She gently pushed the door wider, the faint smell of tobacco wafting out of the room as she did so. Her husband was seated behind a large desk, with a small man in one of the chairs in front, both men discussing the ledger that was open before them. “This cannot be accurate,” the Duke was stating, his long finger stabbing at the page before him. “I’ve done my own calculations. It is off by one hundred pounds.”

“I assure you, your grace,” the other man stammered. “I’ve transposed the numbers correctly.”

“Then I will take it out of your funds, Mr. Thomas.”

“Y-your Grace,” Mr. Thomas pleaded as Grace slipped in the room without a sound. “You cannot.”

Grace watched as her husband’s expression became carefully blank. “I assure you I can. If I were you, Mr. Thomas, I would be going back and refiguring your numbers before I make my final decision.”

“Yes, your grace,” the small man said quickly, grabbing the ledger and standing. “I will have an answer by the end of the day.”

“See that you do,” the Duke muttered as the man moved past Grace to the door, his eyes respectfully downcast. Grace swallowed as she turned back to her husband, finding him staring at her. “What are you doing here?”

She cleared her throat, clenching her hands tightly together. “I’ve come to see if you wish to join me for breakfast.”

His jaw worked. “I’ve already eaten.”

Of course, he had. “Then perhaps I can join you in here?”

He stood, coming around the desk with a slight limp. Grace wondered what had happened to him. She’d heard he had been injured at Trafalgar, the papers that came from London had waxed lyrical about his bravery, his leadership and what a fine man he was fighting alongside Admiral Nelson, leading the British Fleet to a resounding victory against the French.

Was that why he’d returned? Not because of his father’s death but because his injuries had finished his naval career?

Grace started forward but felt the tip of her boot catch the edge of the rug, and with a small cry, she pitched forward, unable to catch herself.

Suddenly, she was hauled up against a warm surface, strong arms wrapped around her waist to steady her. The smell of sandalwood surrounded her as she lay her hands on his chest, feeling the strong, steady heartbeat under the palm of her hand. “ You do not mimic your namesake wife,” he murmured dryly.

“I’m afraid I never have,” she said breathlessly, trying to process his closeness. He hadn’t touched her yesterday save to place the ring on her finger and the chaste kiss on her cheek, but now he was, she felt the blood start to warm in her body, her heart racing wildly in her chest. “I fear it was a jest to name me as such.”

Grace looked up at his face, hoping to see evidence of a smile.

Instead, his stony gaze met hers, and she felt her heart sink as he set her back, his jaw tightly clenched. “I have work to do, wife.”

“Grace,” she stated, feeling the warmth starting to dissipate now she was no longer encircled in his arms. “My name is Grace. Shall I call you Nicholas or Blackmore?”

He moved toward the desk, his limp more pronounced than it had been before, and Grace was worried that her sudden movements had hurt him somehow. “Nicholas is fine,” he grated out, settling in the chair with a wince.

Grace opened her mouth to ask after his health, but something in his expression halted her. Her husband was very obviously a proud man and would likely not entertain her questions. “I see. Well, I shall leave you to your work then, Nicholas.”

He didn’t respond, and she carefully made her way out of the study, pressing herself against the wall to slow her heartbeat.

She had her answer.