Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

The ghost didn't appear again the next evening, though Grace searched until almost one o'clock. Aunt Lavenia joined Grace for morning tea, providing a wonderful opportunity for Grace to divulge the discovery of her ghost with someone who wouldn't become too concerned about her mental faculties.

Before leaving, Lavenia made a short visit to Lady Moriah, returning much sadder than when she'd walked up the stairs.

"Her heart is so cold, dear Grace. If anyone could thaw her, perhaps you could," Aunt Lavenia whispered, walking to the door. "How desperately she needs the warmth of love."

As Grace waved goodbye to Lavenia, guilt nudged at the corners of her heart. She'd made every effort to avoid her mother-in-law over the past two days, but was Lavenia right? Did God place Grace at Havensbrooke for more than just Frederick, but his mother too?

Grace's morning Bible reading also nudged her spirit about doing good and praying for those "that hate you…and despitefully use you." And spiteful certainly fit the dowager. Grace really ought to stop referring to Lady Moriah as the dowager in her mind when she felt particularly cross with the woman. It didn't encourage kindness at all.

She sighed and peered heavenward as she took the steps to the south wing.

Grace's knock was met by her mother-in-law grousing, "Come in." Now that Grace knew a little more about her mother-in-law, she noticed the tattered brocade wallpaper and the photographs of a younger Moriah with her husband, a room as lonely and weathered as the woman occupying it.

"What do you want?"

Well, perhaps Lady Moriah was more cantankerous than lonely.

Grace tempered her scowl with a smile and stepped farther into the room. "I heard you weren't feeling well this morning, so I wondered if you might like some company."

"From you?" The woman's face contorted. "I can barely stand the thought of you, let alone listen to your American accent."

Grace's hand clenched at her side, and she looked away, replaying one of the verses about love through her mind. Her gaze landed on the excellent grand piano with sheet music propped and ready. "Do you play?"

"Not in years." She tipped up her chin. "I used to be quite excellent, however."

Well, either Lady Moriah did play recently or cared so much for the instrument that she kept it polished and open. A weakness Grace wasn't too proud to exploit for kindness' sake. Surely God wouldn't mind.

"I've played since I was seven. I imagine I could play any piece you used to play."

A sound like a growl came from the woman. "I performed for hundreds by the time I was your age."

Ah, but she didn't say no. Grace stepped toward the piano. "Then I imagine you could give me excellent guidance on becoming a better pianist, assuming you remember."

"Of course I remember." The woman slammed her palm down on her blanket-covered lap. "I may be sick, but my mind is still intact." She waved her hand toward the piano. "Brahms's Rhapsody in D Minor is on the piano—a less technical piece, so perhaps you can play it, if you start slowly."

Grace turned her head so that Lady Moriah couldn't see her eye roll. "I shall do my best."

She'd played this piece before, but not under such scrutiny. Grace gave it her all, pouring her own little magic into the music with an added trill here and an extra note there.

"Your technique could use a firm hand, but you do not play poorly, though I doubt you are prepared for some of Liszt's work."

Grace decided then and there she was going to ignore every rude thing the dowager countess said, and if it meant she wouldn't remember one word of the conversation, so be it. "I'll be happy to grow under your tutelage."

The woman's beady eyes examined Grace's face, almost as if they wished to push her down a few inches in height. "You do not understand your place at all, do you?"

"As wife to your son?"

"As the stone in a home that has withstood centuries. You know nothing of the privilege of being part of a vast legacy." Her lips curled. "You and your new money."

Grace refused to back down. One way or another, this rivalry had to stop, and if her mother-in-law wasn't going to act her age, then Grace would be forced to. "Then why don't you educate me?"

The woman's eyes grew wide. "Educate you?"

"Whether you like me and my hair or not, the truth remains that I'm the only one who can bear an heir. If I'm to be a part of the Astley history, then teach me about it instead of judging me. Otherwise you will have no hand in the upbringing of my children, and I will be at my leisure to raise them to be as American as I choose."

"I will not be forced by you."

Grace refused to give up. "Do you know that I ride astride?"

"What?"

"Wearing trousers."

The woman clapped her palm to her chest.

Grace's grin peaked. Aha, she'd found her mark. "And I believe girls should receive an education at a university, if they want."

"How dare you speak to me of my future granddaughters and edu—"

"And the very next moment I can get our chauffeur free, I'm going to have him teach me how to drive our car."

The woman's mouth dropped as wide as her eyes. "Preposterous."

"So if you don't want an entire herd of little Americans running about your centuries-old museum"—Grace waved toward the walls—"then I suggest you take the time to introduce me to your legacy and pray I fall in love with it, because until now, you have not given me any reason to care about your world."

The woman backed away until she slid down in her chair again, eyes remaining wide. Oh well, perhaps Grace had gone too far with the driving statement, even though it was true. From the look on Lady Moriah's pale face, Grace wondered if the woman was still breathing. Could someone die of dislike for a daughter-in-law? Would that be considered murder or suicide?

A knock broke the volatile silence in the room, followed by Brandon's welcome, nonsmiling face. "We just received word that Lord Astley has arrived at the station and should be home within the hour."

"Thank you for letting us know, Brandon." Grace barely kept her feet on the floor as she ran to the door. "I shall keep watch from the library window."

"Tell my son to see me as soon as he arrives."

Lady Moriah could have her son, as soon as Grace finished greeting him in private.

Frederick caught the first morning train to Derbyshire, each mile proving only to increase his agitation. The car barely rolled to a stop at Havensbrooke's entrance before he opened the door himself and stepped out. A rush of blue suddenly filled the doorway, and his bride came into view among the gathering servants. His breath caught as he took her in—the delightfully missed and wonderfully his, Lady Astley.

"Glad to have you back, my lord."

"Thank you, Brandon." Frederick forced his attention to the butler. "It's good to be back."

The butler's attention rested on Frederick's bruised eye. "I hope your trip was successful."

"A minor accident." He waved toward the bruise. "Besides, I have good news. Mr. Andrew Piper will be returning as solicitor and steward of Havensbrooke."

Brandon's bushy brows rose, and a light flickered into his expression. "Very good, sir."

Frederick nodded to the other servants as he passed, each step drawing him closer to the pinnacle of his thoughts the past two days—and nights. There she stood, almost bouncing on tiptoe to contain her joy, with her hands dutifully clasped in front of her. Her obvious admiration plowed over him in glorious and grateful waves. All her beautiful ginger hair sat piled on her head, waiting for him to remove those pins, and the blue shade of her gown deepened the hue of her eyes.

Had she grown more beautiful over the past two days?

"You look well, Lady Astley."

Her smile stretched wide. "I'm much better now, my lord, though I am sorry for your beautiful eye."

"It's nothing, really." He examined every part of her face, even the tiniest freckles on the bridge of her nose. Keeping his distance proved so painful his teeth ached. "I'm glad to be home."

"Might I accompany you to our sitting room? Where we can…" Her gaze spoke in a language his pulse interpreted perfectly. "Talk?"

"Excellent."

"There is a lot to say." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It may take a while."

"All afternoon, I'd expect." He met her volume, ready to devour those lovely lips of hers.

"Do you wish to have tea brought up, my lord?" Mrs. Powell asked as they passed through the threshold.

"No, thank you." Frederick turned to her but did not release his hold on his wife. "In fact, I should like to rest until dinner."

He pressed his palm over Grace's hand so snug against the crook of his arm and kept an unhurried pace up the stairs of the Great Hall. The room looked resplendent with holiday decor. The tree, which had been barren before he'd left, now stood adorned in old ornaments, strings of white beads, and dashes of holly. Garland trimmed the stair rail, framing the room in evergreen and ribbons.

"I don't know as I've ever seen the hall so festive."

Grace's nose wrinkled with her grin. "Do you like it?" She leaned close as they continued their climb. "I would have you note the very strategic placement of mistletoe. I expect you to keep with tradition, my lord, publicly or privately, at your pleasure."

"At my pleasure?" He raised a brow, and as soon as they turned the corner on their private hallway away from curious eyes, he swept her into his arms for a lingering kiss. "Will that do?"

"It's a wonderful start," she breathed, tugging at his jacket. "But don't worry, I've placed mistletoe around my bed too, just in case you needed more reminders."

"I need no reminders, darling." He brought her fingers to his smile and kissed them, slowly trailing his lips over each one in such a way that his beautiful bride gasped. "I think you should write me letters every day."

"I was inspired by your grandparents' letters." Her breath shook out the words, her gaze focused on his lips against her hand. "They provide such lovely romantic inspiration."

Once they were sequestered in their sitting room, Frederick guided Grace to the window seat and tugged her down on his lap, continuing the kiss he'd started in the hallway. She tasted of warmth and strawberries—and home. Her rosemary scent wrapped around him in welcome as she melted against him, the softest breath escaping her mouth as he skimmed his lips down her neck.

"Grace," he whispered against her neck as he skimmed kisses across her skin. "I've never longed for anyone like I long for you."

She pulled back, her palms framing his face as glimmers of sunlight bathed her glorious hair in fiery gold. "That was beautifully poetic."

He kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other. "Next time you're going with me to London."

Her nose skimmed over his, teasing. "And on any of your other adventures?"

" All of my other adventures." His mouth took another detour down her neck.

"Since you're so agreeable for the moment."

His lips found her ear.

"I have a confession to make."

His palms found their way into her hair, loosening her pins. Cool locks of silk fell over his knuckles, and he buried his face into them. "Mm-hmm?"

"I met Lily yesterday."

Lily? His hands paused in her hair, his gaze meeting hers. "What?"

She smoothed her palms over the front of his shirt, a pucker forming on her brow. "I didn't plan to meet her, but I was out riding—"

"What did you think of her?"

"She's wonderful!" Her smile spread. "I fell in love with her on the spot, and the fact you named her after your grandmother—"

"You knew about her name?"

"You forget, I have your grandmother's letters, and when you've talked of them, I've listened." Grace drew so close those gold flecks hidden in her sapphire orbs glistened in the sunlight. "I see the love of your grandparents in you. Their kindness and desire to do good." She rubbed against his chest as if she was trying to wipe away a wound. "They've influenced who you are, even if the past hurts overshadowed it for a while."

He covered her hand with his, holding her fingers against his chest. "You are a part of who I am, and I should want my life no other way."

Her gaze roamed his face, pausing on his eye. "Then, if I am such a part of you, tell me what happened to your eye. Your lip is slightly swollen too."

He trailed kisses down her neck again, attempting to derail her curiosity.

"My dear Lord Astley." She framed his face with her hands and pulled his attention back up, those eyes an unyielding force. "I feel certain you want my undivided attention right now. So give me the benefit of your doubts and tell me what happened."

His throat constricted at the notion of her faithful companionship, her love. He unpinned more of her hair and ran his fingers through it until her eyes flickered closed in response, giving him time to find his voice. "I don't want you to worry."

"I'll worry more from having to conjure up my own scenarios, which will invariably be much worse than the truth."

He grinned and brushed back some of the loose tendrils from her face. "I was attacked in London."

"Attacked? At night?" Her eyes widened. "Of course it was at night. Much easier to conceal an attack." Her gaze—alive and curious—searched his. "Was it a fog-fingered night? The most likely candidate."

"Yes and only a few hours after my rather revealing meeting with Mr. Parks."

"I knew it." She patted the front of his shirt, rocking back on his lap. "There is something underhanded going on, and if this didn't confirm it, the men who chased me on horseback yesterday certainly do."

Frederick's entire body surged to alert. He took her by the shoulders. "What did you say?"

"It was all such a surprise." She'd loosened one of his shirt buttons as if she hadn't just sent his heart careening toward terror. "Two men in black came after me from the forest during my ride, almost out of nowhere it seems, but of course they had to come from somewhere. At any rate, they chased me across the field, and my first thought was to find other people so there would be witnesses, you see."

All the internal warmth from their earlier kisses chilled. Men chasing her? At Havensbrooke? He covered her fidgeting hand with his own to remove the added distraction. "Tell me everything that happened, Grace. Every detail so that we can share it when the inspector arrives."

"You've secured an inspector! Very clever of you, Frederick. I do believe this case is getting much too unwieldy for us amateurs." She snuggled in closer to him as if she hadn't completely shaken him from any peace.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, offering thanksgiving for her safety. "Grace, I won't leave you again, not even for an hour, until this situation is resolved." He pulled back. "You may be strong, but I'm not certain I'm strong enough to see someone hurt you."

"You are incredibly dashing when you're worried about me."

He shook his head, smile reluctant at best. "Then I must appear as the very model of a jaunty rogue." He sobered, tipping her chin up with his finger and thumb. "We must take care. This situation has become more dangerous than even you can imagine."

"I will take care, I promise." She brushed back hair from his forehead and offered a consolatory smile. "But I don't think anything could ever be that dangerous."