Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Was his wife going to disappear on him as a rule?

Frederick took another turn around the gardens, Zeus on his heels. This afternoon, they'd meet the tenants of Havensbrooke. His gaze slid toward a cottage tucked behind a screen of trees in the distance. Except that tenant. He'd save that introduction for a more private opportunity, once he'd divulged the worst of his sins to his wife.

But he wanted to hold on to Grace's look of admiration for one more day.

The Great Hall gave no indication of the whereabouts of his wife, though it did boast a twenty-foot spruce several men had brought in after Frederick gave them instruction on where to find it. He hadn't been home for Christmas in four years. He smiled as he passed, nodding to a few maids as they draped garland along the massive mantel. After being gone for six months, he was finally starting to feel at home in this house again.

As he passed his office, he caught sight of a flash of green and came to a roaring stop. Peering around the corner of the doorway, he watched as his wife walked faerie-light through the very masculine space.

Her day dress floated around her as she stepped from his desk to the globe in the corner and slid her free hand over the massive leather chair by the fireplace, her other hand clutching two books to her chest. Her beauty stole his breath.

She turned to look out the window, and he swept up behind her, catching her gasp with his lips. Their physical connection bound him to her in a new, more powerful, way. Unlike any woman he'd known, Grace took to their time together with the same voracious curiosity as she did to most things—and he harbored no complaints. In fact, he'd hadn't thanked God so much in years. Out loud. In several languages.

She giggled as his lips left her mouth to slip to her ear. "I missed you too."

"Did you?" He raised a brow and then delved back into appreciating the slope of her neck with his mouth. "You seem much more content than I."

"I'm being scandalously kissed by my roguish husband." Her breath hitched as he continued his perusal. "Why wouldn't I—"

"I know my way well enough, Brandon." A familiar voice from the entry hall ruptured their privacy. "Let me through."

Frederick hoped his ears played tricks on him. Surely his Aunt Lavenia hadn't arrived unannounced and with such poor timing.

"Where is she?" her question resounded closer, confirming his thoughts.

"Blast," Frederick muttered, tucking Grace against him behind the door.

"Who is it?" Grace peeked up at him from her place between him and the wall. His thoughts delved into excellent ways to take advantage of her position—

"Mrs. Redfern, if you would allow me to announce your presence—"

"Pishposh, Brandon. I must see this new bride of my nephew's." Her light voice rang through the corridors with purpose. "Upon my word, what a glorious tree!"

She'd made it to the Great Hall.

"Frederick?"

"It's my mother's sister," he responded, voice low.

"Oh no." Grace pouted. "I can't bear another one."

"Aunt Lavenia is nothing like my mother." He trailed a hand down her neck. "She's unique in her own right and married to a clergyman in Matlock."

"A clergyman?"

"My mother was not rich when my father met her."

One of Grace's brows pitched high.

"However, she was very…enticing."

"So much so that your father lost all reason and married the wrong sister?" Grace's eyes widened. "I've read about such intoxication in books, you know."

"I'm certain you have." Frederick chuckled and placed a kiss against her cheek. "And you may very well be right. I can only imagine Aunt Lavenia a better choice in many ways, but not when it comes to patience."

"Frederick!" Her call came closer.

Sending Grace an apologetic look, he rounded the door, bringing Grace along with him. He was beginning to regret not taking a honeymoon.

"There you are." Aunt Lavenia clapped her hands, her pale eyes wide beneath her large-brimmed hat. "And your bride!"

Frederick drew in a deep breath for strength. "Aunt Lavenia Redfern, may I introduce my wife, Gracelynn Percy, Countess of Astley."

Grace dipped her head. "Pleased to meet you, Aunt Lavenia."

"Oh, look at you!" She studied Grace for a second, stepping closer. "Well, I never imagined a redhead as the salvation of Havensbrooke, but if God can use fishermen, shepherds, and whales to bring about his plan, why not a lovely ginger?"

Grace shot Frederick an open-mouthed smile, her blue eyes dancing with her resident curiosity.

"Aunt Lavenia, we weren't expecting visitors."

"Family, dear." Lavenia waved away his words and took Grace's face in her hands, peering over the rim of her glasses for close inspection. "I met your sister in town this morning, and she invited me for tea on Friday." Lavenia released Grace's cheeks and stepped back with a satisfied sigh. "But I had to come over straightaway after Eleanor's glowing report from you." She raised a brow to Frederick. "Nothing's glowed in this house since Edward installed electric lights, so you'll understand my immediate curiosity."

Grace laughed. "I do prefer glowing to the alternative."

Lavenia's sharp gaze slid back to Grace, her smile growing with Cheshire style. "Ah, I see." Lavenia turned to Brandon. "Have tea brought to the Green Room, won't you, Brandon?" Her attention turned back to Grace. "I've a new niece to interview."

Grace couldn't help but like Lavenia Redfern. She broke conventions, smiled often, and didn't have one negative thing to say about Grace's hair color. The very fact she caused Frederick to battle with his grin made her even more endearing.

"I wasn't too keen on this whole idea of marrying for money, you understand." She waved a scone toward Grace before taking another bite. "I recognize the financial demands of a large estate, but I'm a firm believer in marrying for a partner, not position, and I'm not afraid to admit it."

"Grace and I are hopeful to have both," Frederick answered, glancing Grace's way long enough to send her thoughts spiraling back to his plundering kisses.

Was marriage truly supposed to be this delightful? Clandestine kisses in the study? Stormy nights of passion? Enchanting discussions about anything from fiction to architecture? She hadn't read a single book that painted a picture of marriage remotely close to this.

What a waste of unwritten words!

"You've always been the kindhearted one, Frederick. For all your disappointments in life, you never lost your goodness, did you?"

Disappointments? The unanswered questions in this house breathed in the air, waiting for release. Would Frederick ever trust Grace with the truth? She already knew enough to draw conclusions of her own that rivaled anything he could conjure up. After all, she was currently reading Dickens.

"But I see how it is. You two are well suited." Lavenia glanced between them, nodding with finality. "Yes, and I predict you will have a child by Christmas next year."

Grace laughed more at Frederick's look of shock than Lavenia's directness. "I'm only now discovering what it is to be a wife, dear Aunt Lavenia. I can't imagine managing the duties of mother too."

"You'll have lots of help when the time comes. Unlike most women in current society, I adore babies." She took a sip of tea. "And how do you find Havensbrooke?"

"It's situated so beautifully. Almost fairy-tale-like."

"Indeed it is." Lavenia studied Grace over her teacup, hesitating. "A large, lonely place in need of some young spirit to rewrite its stories and sort out its mysteries."

Mysteries? Grace blinked. "Speaking of mysteries." She popped up from her seat. Where had she placed her books? "I discovered one today."

She retrieved her books from the study and returned, tugging out the letter. "I found something when I got lost in the house this morning." She sat next to Frederick on the settee. "I think it's from your brother."

"My brother?" He took the paper from her, his face paling as he scanned the note. "You…you were in the east wing?"

"I believe so. We certainly didn't venture there on our tour, but perhaps the letter will bring you some small comfort. It seems your brother thought he'd wronged you."

Frederick sat back, rubbing his chin as he read the letter. Aunt Lavenia held out her hand for a turn, and Frederick offered a hesitant allowance. His expression gave little away, certainly nothing to help Grace sort out anything related to a possible murder. With their new intimacy, should she be able to read his thoughts a bit better? She pursed her lips in con-centration as she stared at him and frowned when nothing materialized in her head. Oh well, perhaps it would take a little longer.

"There's more than that, Grace." Aunt Lavenia looked up from the paper. "This letter hints to a scandal about which I've pondered since Edward's death. Something is definitely amiss, and I think we've finally found direction for answers."

What did this mean?

Frederick reread the letter, his brother's handwriting a bittersweet stab to Frederick's grief. He should have been the one to discover this months ago. Overwhelmed by his new responsibilities as earl, he'd stayed away from the east wing at his mother's request and due to his own regret. He'd had an estate to rescue. It had seemed easier at the time to forge ahead into estate business. But what had he overlooked in the process?

"Was I right in bringing it to you?"

Grace's touch to his arm brought him back to the present. "Yes." He nodded. "I've needed to explore the east wing, and this proves the fact. It's only, I didn't know if I could—"

"We can do it together."

His bride. She offered such confidence, kindness. He cleared the emotions closing off his voice.

"Perhaps Parks can provide some insight, Frederick." Aunt Lavenia took another sip of her tea. "This may not be the first letter of its kind."

Frederick cringed. If his brother's best friend would even talk to him.

"You know where I stand about past sins and all that. I'm a clergyman's wife. I've heard it all, and I know you've tried to make things right." Lavenia's hand rested on his shoulder. "But there's something quite dark about your brother's words and the implications about his wife. I never liked her." She offered a knowing nod along with a wag of her finger. "And I'm quite keen on such things."

Celia. Frederick had stayed clear of Celia Blackmore ever since his return to England. She was poison, the reason for the rift between Frederick and his brother, and no doubt her influence contributed to the downward fall of Havensbrooke.

But a murderer? His gaze traveled to his wife—the very contradic-tion. She studied him with those intelligent eyes of hers, her imagination most likely conjuring up all sorts of scenarios.

"I'll leave the two of you to talk this over, but know this"—Aunt Lavenia pointed at him, those pale blue eyes flaming—"I'm a decent shot should things turn less than savory." Her fingers wiggled in the air. "And of course, I'll pray, especially to keep us free from the need for my shooting."

"You know how to fire pistols?"

Frederick stifled a groan at Grace's question. Introducing the two of them would probably prove catastrophic for his peace of mind.

Aunt Lavenia's grin broadened into a saucy boast. "It's not a widely known fact, my dear, as you can understand. After all, I'm a clergyman's wife, and knowledge of my use of pistols doesn't bode well with most parishioners."

Grace sent him a wide-eyed grin over Lavenia's shoulder as his aunt took Grace in another hug.

Oh Lord, give me strength.

Could the house manage two such personalities in the same room for very long?

"Don't you wish to see your sister while you're here, Aunt Lavenia?" Frederick diverted the conversation in case Lavenia decided to offer Grace shooting lessons on the spot. "You might do her some good."

"I'm not certain how much good I'll do." Lavenia's gaze moved to the stairway just beyond the Green Room door. "The woman drinks despair like brandy."

Grace's laugh echoed through the room.

"It's true dear. She can hold a grudge better than St. Peter could catch a fish." She shook her head and turned back to them, standing. "I'll take her some tea, and we'll see how things go."

"She's kept herself to her rooms since I threatened to find her a dower house," Frederick added.

"Ah well, I can imagine she's fit to be tied after that." She released another sigh and offered a renewed smile. "Wish me luck."

Grace took Aunt Lavenia's hands in hers. "It was such a pleasure to meet you, Aunt Lavenia."

"I believe we are to be very good friends, my dear Grace." Lavenia turned to Frederick. "Excellent choice, Frederick, and I simply adore her hair. Adds color in this world of colorless characters."

Grace's attention followed Aunt Lavenia, her smile growing until Lavenia disappeared down the hallway. "Oh, I like her. She inferred I was a character, and I do so hope I turn out to be a heroine in this story."

He slipped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I can assure you, you are the heroine of mine."

She stared up at him with such unadulterated tenderness, he nearly kissed her much too thoroughly in the middle of the Green Room.

"So when do we set off for London to sort out what this letter is all about?" She tapped the paper in his hands. "Didn't you mention needing to travel there to meet with estate solicitors anyway?"

Her question doused the warmth her gentle look inspired. "I don't know if this is something we ought to pursue."

Grace's bottom lip dropped. "Aunt Lavenia clearly suspects something, and your brother's words were terribly—"

"It's not as simple as that." He stood, distancing himself from the onslaught of her incoming argument. "This has the potential to bring unwelcome attention, and that's the last thing the Astley name needs right now."

"But surely the truth is worth the risk."

He walked toward his office, trying to keep his breathing slow, but his pulse staggered into a gallop. After Lily, then Celia, and his brother's unexpected demise, if news emerged that something underhanded had occurred, it would only lengthen the shadows over Havensbrooke, especially with Frederick's name attached again. "It sounds as though my brother was ill when he wrote this letter. He could have been suffering from paranoia."

"Or paranoia had been induced by situations or"—she stepped to his side and paused with a gasp—"or certain liquids. I've read of a variety of soluble contents which can cause—"

"Grace." He didn't even want to consider where she learned such information. "My family name is in a vulnerable place. I have to consider the implications of drawing attention to a speculation."

"A life-threatening speculation!" She squeezed his arm. "Someone may have tried to kill us in your car last week, not to mention the attempt on your life in Whitlock Village. The last thing I want is to lose a husband I just marr—"

"We have no proof either of those were anything more than coinci—"

"Frederick, there very well could be a murderer free, and what if he strikes again?"

"I'm not willing to take this family through a wild goose chase over something that's more imagination than reality."

She snatched the letter and waved it in front of his face. "This letter is real."

"And incomplete. One does not pursue a remote theory based on inconclusive findings."

"Clearly you've not been reading your Sherlock. Every mystery starts with a remote theory based on inconclusive findings." She placed the letter back in his hand but wrapped her other hand around theirs. "Havensbrooke is a part of your story. You have to discover the truth."

"This is not a story, Grace." His resolve teetered on the edge of control. "This is real life. There are consequences and…and possible dangers."

"There are always consequences and dangers when you live a life. And of course this is a story." She waved toward one of the portraits on the wall nearby—his grandfather to be specific. "It's years and centuries of stories. Of people playing the heroes and heroines and villains of their own lives. It's your story." She pressed a palm to her chest. "Mine. You decide what part you'll play."

"It's not as simple as that." He collapsed into his desk chair. "It's Havensbrooke's legacy too. You have no idea how scandal redirects futures in my world."

"Wouldn't the greater scandal be to allow a violent person to hurt someone else? I know enough to realize shadows follow people when you're pointing toward the light, Frederick, so we must—"

"What do you know of it, Grace?" He shook his head. "You've been here two weeks."

"I know we must pursue what is right." She stepped back from him, her brows furrowed. "You can't ensure the future of Havensbrooke if you're dead, and I mean to protect you, even if you will not protect yourself."

"And I must protect my family's reputation. My home. " His words sliced into her argument. "You can't understand the burden I bear. The expectation to make things right. Centuries of expectations. How can you possibly understand it?" Her wounded expression dug his frustration deeper…at himself. "Your family is from new money. What would you know about the kind of sacrifice I must make to secure this future?"

As his accusations reverberated off the silence, the hurt in Grace's eyes hardened to steel. "You're right. I don't know what it's like to carry the weight of all those people on my shoulders. I don't know how to be a storyteller of others' adventures because I'd rather live my own." She pulled her ring from her finger and slammed it down on the desk. "And what would I know about sacrificing for family? Or risking everything to do what was right to save the people I love from scandal?" Her words pierced into his argument with enough accuracy to send pain shooting through his chest. "Practically nothing, Lord Astley." She leaned in, her fiery gaze demanding his full attention. "Whether you claim it or not, you were born to be a hero, not a shadow. And heroes don't hide from the truth."

With that, his joyful, innocent bride stormed from the room without one look back.

And what was worse? Everything she said was true.