Chapter Eight

Grace stared at the ornate ceiling above her head, her heart heavy. Nicholas had not come yet again to her bed, and she was starting to wonder if he ever would. After today’s events, she’d hoped he was warming to the fact they were married. That she was now his wife.

Yet as the shadows lengthened from day to night, she’d eaten a solitary dinner for the second time and made her way to bed.

Alone.

It seemed her new husband was still avoiding her.

As yet she had no lady’s maid, and in truth had no wish for one, but it would have been comforting to have someone to speak with as she readied herself for bed. She thought about her sisters and the noisy mayhem that usually accompanied them all as they retired. Her room was undeniably beautiful, but she was surrounded by oppressive silence.

Grace climbed into bed and lay back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life? She felt a clutch of fear, then took herself to task. Throwing back the covers, she sat up. She wasn’t simply going to lie here and look at the ceiling. There was an entire library for her to explore downstairs.

After locating her wrap, Grace stole down the stairs as quietly as possible. Halfway down, she abruptly froze as muffled sounds of screaming came from her husband’s study.

Another cry rent the air, and Grace stumbled down the rest of the stairs, her heart in her throat. Had someone broken in? It sounded as though they were being attacked. She felt suddenly sick at the thought that Nicholas may still have been in the study. Was he even now being murdered?

Without thinking, she grabbed a candlestick from a small occasional table at the foot of the stairs and hurried down the dim hallway to the study.

Throwing open the door, Grace found the room empty save a thrashing man in the chair before the fire.

“No! Don’t you dare die on me, John. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, damn you, look at me.”

The anguish in his words tore through Grace as she made her way to his side, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nicholas was having a nightmare, and by the torment on his face, she realised whatever it was he was dreaming had actually happened.

Was this why he hadn’t come to her bed?

“Lass, be careful.”

Grace turned to find Nicholas’s valet at the doorway, his red hair sticking out all over his head. She had met the Scot the day before and found him very congenial. “Do you know what’s happening?”

The sombre look on his face tugged at her heart. “Aye. He’s having a nightmare. They continue to plague him, even after all this time.”

“What can I do to help him?” she whispered, kneeling beside the chair. It must be torturous to know he would endure such pain each night when he closed his eyes.

“There’s nae helping him,” the Scot replied, moving closer to the chair. “And he will not thank ye to see him so.”

“I can’t leave him like this,” Grace stated. Carefully, she lay her hand on her husband’s cheek, feeling the tightness under her palm. Nicholas flinched against her touch, but his eyes did not open, his fists clenched tightly against the chair. “There must be something I can do,” she continued almost on the verge of tears.

“Go on lass,” the Scot replied, his expression troubled. “I’ll get the lad tae his bed. ‘Tis the blasted memories that will not leave him be. And the sights and sounds he’s endured are not for a gentle woman’s ears.”

Gently, he pushed her towards the door. “He’s lucky to have a friend such as you,” she whispered.

The other man grinned. “Aye, and he’s lucky tae have a woman like ye by his side. God willing, he’ll realise it before we’re all old and grey.”

Grace touched the man’s shoulder in thanks before she exited the room, the tears now flowing freely as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps her husband was not the cold man she’d believed him to be. The agonies he’d clearly experienced had wrought such terrible suffering inside him. Mayhap Nicholas had cultivated the remoteness in his demeanour as protection.

To keep people away. To keep her away.

Shivering, Grace climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers to her neck. She had no knowledge of the horrors of battle and felt completely out of her depth. But she was determined to do something. One thing had become abundantly clear. Nicholas had shut himself away from the world, and it was up to her to bring him back.

∞∞∞

The next morning, Grace opened her eyes to find her husband seated on the side of her bed, dressed for the day. Gasping in shock, she sat up quickly, hugging the bedclothes to her.

“Nicholas?” she asked hesitantly when he didn’t speak. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and lines of exhaustion on his face. He looked like she felt, worn out and weary from the previous night’s events.

“I understand I woke you last night.”

His voice was expressionless, giving nothing away. Grace sat up, pushing the hair out of her face. Had he sought her out to apologize? Surely he understood there was no need. “I was not asleep Nicholas.”

“Still you should have remained in your bed. It is not appropriate for you to see me so.” His voice was curt, and Grace fought against her instinctive need to flinch.

Taking a deep breath, she touched his shoulder, careful to keep the touch light. Plucking up the courage she whispered, “Is that why you have yet to come to my bed?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, though she could see the tightening in his jaw. “I will not subject you to my nightmares.”

Grace climbed out of the bed then and came to stand before her damaged husband, heedless of the fact that she was wearing only her nightclothes. Boldly, she touched his cheek and forced him to meet her gaze.

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond, simply stared down at her, his face expressionless. Grace summoned the courage she’d just found to do what she must. “If you wish to allow me to help you, I will, but I will not push you to do so Nicholas. These nightmares do not make you weak, but they will destroy you if you allow them to do so.”

“You know nothing of the world,” he responded cuttingly. “You can’t help me. I don’t need a nursemaid. I need a wife. One who knows her place.”

The iciness in his tone caused Grace’s heart to thud sickeningly, and she stepped back slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into her bed and bury herself under the covers. Instead, she stood tall, and clenching her fists together, leaned forward to press her lips against his cheek. “Yes, I am your wife,” she started, surprised her voice remained steady. “And you are my husband. Your pain is my pain. I will be here, whenever you need me.”

Nicholas’s sharp intake of breath told Grace she’d caught him off guard, and she straightened, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him. “Will you have breakfast with me?” she asked carefully, moving to the wardrobe that held her dresses.

The door closing behind her was her only response, and Grace pressed her forehead to the cool wood, her shoulders slumping. He had sought her out, but only to tell her to mind her own business and stay out of his way.

Well if her husband thought she was that much of a damn ninnyhammer, he was in for a grave shock.

∞∞∞

The discovery that her husband had left with nary a word spoken to her had her spitting feathers. For the first time since she’d become mistress of this mausoleum, Grace felt her anger begin to stir. She had done nothing for him to treat her so. His troubled mind did not give him an excuse for boorish behaviour.

He had intimated he wished her to stay out of his way. Well, disappearing to Scotland without telling her was certainly an excellent way to belabour his point. Well, two could play at that game.

Resolutely she put her ill-mannered husband out of her mind and determined she would learn everything she could about the house she was now mistress of, and mayhap learn a little about what was expected of her. For the next two weeks, she explored the house from top to bottom, seeking out all its hidden nooks and crannies. When she wasn’t exploring, she spent most of her time in the library reading about Blackmore’s history. Sections of the house were clearly very old, and it had more than its fair share of gruesome legends.

She also wrote to her husband, enquiring after his health and intimating she was missing his company.

After discovering everything she could about her new home, Grace decided to move on to exploring the grounds which were much more extensive than she’d imagined. Luckily, the weather remained warm and sunny, and she enjoyed many an hour wandering the formal gardens and learning about the herbs in the kitchen garden. When she wasn’t exploring, she spent her time reading under her favourite tree in the orchard.

She also wrote again to her husband, enquiring after his health and this time intimating her distress that he would stay away from Blackmore and his wife for such an extended period.

To both letters, she received neither reply nor acknowledgement, and by the time a full month had passed with no word, Grace had finally had enough. It had become abundantly clear that her husband held her in scant regard and was unwilling to show her even the slightest consideration or courtesy that was fitting as his wife and Duchess.

If Nicholas didn’t think she was good enough to be his wife, then what was the use in trying to be anything other than she was. She might now be the Duchess of Blackmore, but her husband clearly did not regard her as such. Well, she was still Grace Shackleford, and she’d be damned if she would continue to try and change herself to accommodate a man who plainly had no interest in her.

If and when he wanted her help, she would willingly give it, but until then, she was done trying to make herself into something she was not.

Instead of looking to dress in something that would please her husband on the off chance he returned, Grace put on her most comfortable gown and went downstairs to pen a letter to her sisters.