Chapter 26

Grace stood in the doorway of the house looking out at the rain.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Williamson had appeared at her side. “Are you going riding again?”

Grace took a minute before she answered. She glanced in the direction of the dining room behind her though she knew it remained empty. Philip had not come to dinner the night before, nor had he come to breakfast that morning.

I need to get out of here.

“Yes, I think I will.”

Mrs. Williamson reached for a thick shawl from a nearby hook.

“Please, take this,” Mrs. Williamson said kindly. “If I cannot persuade you to take an escort, at least stay warm.”

Grace thanked her for the kindness and took the shawl. She pulled a bonnet tight around her cheeks then stepped out into the rain.

As she hastened toward the stable, she thought constantly of the last moments she had seen Philip.

She had thought they had made some sort of breakthrough in his boxing room, making love again in a way that had felt both thrillingly exciting and yet deeply intimate. She had been about to turn to him, to embrace him and tell him that she would never intentionally cause him pain and that if it was within her power, she would never appear in the scandal sheets again, but he had pulled away.

His lack of an explanation and the fact that he had escaped her so fast and not come to see her since cut deeply. She needed to run, to feel like the Grace she used to know before she had married Philip.

She took her horse and rode out of the estate with no hesitation today. There was one place in particular she wished to go, someone she wished to see.

She had not yet returned home for she feared what her mother would say when she saw her. She didn’t doubt Althea would love to go on at length about how shameful it was for a duchess to appear in the scandal sheets so much, but risking running into Althea and her anger was worth it if it meant seeing her father again.

When Grace reached the house, she left the horse in the stable. Rather than approach the house by one of the doors, as she would no doubt alert the butler and thereby her mother as well to her presence, Grace approached the window of her father’s study instead.

She peered through the gap in the half-closed curtains, seeing her father reclining in his large armchair by the fire. He was wrapped up in a banyan with a blanket loose across his knees. His hair was unkempt as though it had not seen a comb that day though she rather suspected from the way he stared into the fire that he hardly cared about such things.

Seeing he was alone, Grace tapped on the window.

He looked toward the window, mildly interested. When he saw her there waving at him, he jumped to his feet in alarm.

“Oh, please be careful,” she mouthed through the window.

He discarded his blanket and hastened toward her, clearly fighting the fatigue that so often overtook his body. He pushed back the curtains and thrust the window up.

“Grace? Well, you always did find unique ways into a room,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I wanted to see you.” She left out the part about not wanting to see her mother though from the smile her father gave, he clearly knew this was her thought.

“Come, I’ll help you in.” He offered her a hand though she didn’t want to lean on him when he was already weak. She climbed in through the window, struggling a little with the weight of her damp riding habit but managing to land successfully in the room. He closed the window behind her then drew her toward the fire. “I have missed you, Grace. This house is not the same without you.”

“I have missed you too.” She sat down on a footstool in front of the fire as her father returned to his chair.

Seeing that he had a tea tray set up beside him, she retrieved a spare cup from a drinks cupboard nearby and poured a fresh cup for herself as well as topping up her father’s drink.

“Here, stay warm,” she pleaded, pushing the cup into his hand. He smiled his thanks and took a sip.

“How are you?” he asked softly. “How is marriage treating you?”

She blinked, uncertain how to answer him. She couldn’t tell him that she was unfortunately falling in love with her husband, and the only problem was, he didn’t love her back. He thought more of the pain of seeing her name in the scandal sheets. Maybe he said it was not about ‘reputations,’ but it clearly was. Why else would those scandal sheets upset him so much?

“Ah, the pause says all.” John sighed deeply. He slumped in his chair and rubbed his brow. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

“Sorry? Whatever for? This is all my doing, Father.”

If I hadn’t tried to complete that ridiculous bet!

“I should have taken better care of you.”

“You have always taken care of me.” She leaned toward him, impassioned with her words. “You are the best of fathers.” She held his hand, and he held tightly to hers too.

It was a sadness to her to see the paleness of his skin and the sunken sockets of his eyes. He was sickly indeed.

He needs a new physician.

“Does he treat you well?” John asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “I could perhaps bear this if I knew that.”

“He treats me… fine.” She wasn’t sure what more to say. Her father winced, evidently knowing what ‘fine’ truly meant.

“There is something you must know, Grace.” He leaned toward her, out of his seat. “Has your husband mentioned to you his father’s gambling?”

“No.” She thought of the day before and the very casual statement Philip had made about his father’s affairs appearing in scandal sheets. She couldn’t remember reading any such stories but presumed they must have been some time ago. He hadn’t mentioned any gambling.

“I imagine the gambling is a closely guarded secret. A man who protects his reputation so fiercely would find it abhorrent to read it in the papers. To my shame…” Her father paused, sighing. “…it was my doing.”

“Your doing? What do you mean?”

“The Duke’s father and I were friends, once.” He looked away into the fire and the flames that spat. “It was a long time ago. To my shame, I introduced him to the gambling table. It has served neither of us well, has it?”

Grace gripped her father’s hand tighter.

“We do not need fortunes to be happy, Father,” she urged him to understand. “All I ever needed was you, not money.”

“You have the best of hearts, Grace. You always did.” He patted her hand. “It was my doing, though, the Duke’s penury. If he does not treat you well…” He eyed her cautiously. “There are stories I could give you about his father’s gambling ways. If they were in the scandal sheets, it would cause him greater shame, I’m sure. It may persuade him to be kinder to you.”

“Father!” She leaned back in shock.

“I’m only trying to protect you,” he said with desperation, his eyes growing wide. “You deserve kindness, my love.”

“And I will not get it by threatening my husband. Father, I would never do that to him.” She shook her head firmly.

“I thought you would say that.” He sank back into his chair, a sad sort of smile on his lips. “Your kindness does you credit. I just know you deserve that kindness in return.”

“Don’t you worry about me.” Grace topped up his drink again. Strangely, her problems with Philip didn’t seem important when she was looking at her father and seeing for herself just how sick he was. The most important thing in her life was this. “Have you tried a new physician yet?”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Father, please —” Before she could say anymore, voices were heard in the corridor.

“There was a horse. I’m sure I saw one.” It was Tabitha’s voice first.

“I would know if my daughter was in my house, Tabitha,” Althea declared.

Grace didn’t even have time to jump to her feet or consider a hiding place. It was inevitable having to see her mother again so soon.

The door opened, and in the doorway stood Althea and Tabitha, together. Tabitha smiled warmly as she laid eyes on Grace, but Althea was so shocked that she jumped backward and was in danger of knocking poor Tabitha over.

“Grace!” Althea exclaimed in alarm. “What are you doing here?”

“She is our daughter. Where else would she be?” John said with no amount of hidden resentment. He took Grace’s hand for she had moved to stand, and he urged her back onto the footstool. She knew that look — he was asking her to stay with him a little longer yet. She smiled, silently assuring him that she was going nowhere.

“There was no knock at the door. Duchesses do not call unannounced.” Althea looked at the window, clearly surmising quite easily just how Grace had entered the house.

“I came to talk to father,” Grace explained. “To tell him about our outings.”

“Oh, yes,” Althea scoffed with no small part of derision in her tone. “We know all about your outings.” She flicked her fingers at Tabitha who disappeared back into the hallway to retrieve something.

“Yes,” Grace whispered, looking down at her teacup. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. The night they had attended the Almack’s Assembly Rooms, Althea had been there. “I imagine you were no fan of my gown that night at the assembly, Mother, but I liked it. It was a nice change to wear such a dress.”

John smiled at her.

Philip seemed to like it.

The way Philip had ripped that burgundy dress off her in his study had spoken volumes. She tried not to shudder as she remembered the pleasure of him pulling that gown off her and entering her, exploring her with the passion he had done that night.

“I am not talking about that dress though that gown is another conversation to have entirely.” Althea blushed the color of a beetroot as she spoke though Grace wasn’t sure if it was fury or embarrassment that drove her to it. “Tabitha? Have you found them?”

“What is she looking for?” Grace asked her father.

John rubbed his brow tiredly and shook his head, intimating that she didn’t really want to know the answer to such a question.

Tabitha returned and in her hand was a bundle of scandal sheets.

“Not those again.” Grace returned her teacup to the nearest table with a loud clink. “Mother, I’m well aware that I am the scandal sheets’ favorite topic of conversation. I have read them enough these last few days. I do not need them read out to me again now.”

Althea shook out one of the scandal sheets, clearly intending to read it aloud despite Grace’s words.

“Listen to this — the Duchess of Berkley —”

“Althea!” The sudden sound from John made them all jump. Grace leaned back in alarm as her father leaned forward in his armchair, just enough so he could look over the back of the chair, shooting daggers with his gaze at his wife. “She has said she doesn’t wish to hear it. Do you take pleasure in embarrassing our daughter?”

Althea looked as if she had been struck. She lowered the sheet in her grasp and closed her lips. She looked down at the floor too. The sudden change in her countenance was so abrupt that Grace didn’t know what to make of it. She could have sworn that her mother blinked rather rapidly.

Wait… is she holding back tears?

“I am sorry I am such an embarrassment to you,” Grace said to her mother. “It was not my intention to humiliate you or anyone else for that matter.”

The guilt raged inside her once again. She wondered if Philip had left her side so fast the day before because he could not forget these scandal sheets either. Despite the fact he’d tried to, losing himself in their passion, perhaps he was haunted by the words so much he had been determined to escape her at once.

She felt her heart crack in her chest. She breathed deeply, trying her best to ignore the feeling.

“Grace,” Tabitha murmured, still clutching to one of the scandal sheets in her hands. “You should see this one. It only came this morning.” She walked forward, bearing a sheet that looked very familiar to Grace.

“I have seen it. I read the article yesterday.”

“No, Grace. This is a reprint. Look,” Tabitha urged the sheet into her clutches.

Grace unfurled the sheet and looked down at a section her cousin was pointing toward. There, printed in black and white beneath the previous day’s article, was another awful accusation.

‘The Duchess of Berkley — seen out in public. There was shock and incredulity yesterday in Covent Garden when the Duchess of Berkley was seen to nearly cause an accident with an unsuspecting carriage. With her lack of skill, it’s said the Duchess was seen to lose control of her horse. By the Grace of God himself, it is fortunate that no one was hurt in the incident. What’s more, it’s now known that the Duchess was riding unaccompanied. It’s being whispered she rode like a lunatic on her own, so desirous she was to escape her new home and husband. What a humiliation for the poor Duke of Berkley!’

Grace stood slowly from her seat, her hand shaking around the paper.

“This is absurd,” she muttered, anger tightening her gut at the way the incident from the day before had been twisted into something it was not. “For God’s sake, why do they always look for a story where there is none?”

“You are a duchess,” Tabitha whispered in a very gentle voice. “I’m so sorry. They have high expectations of you now.”

“Pah! They had the same expectations when I wasn’t a duchess. And as for being a duchess, shouldn’t that make me separate from their expectations?” Grace countered, turning and tossing the sheet into the flames. Her mother flinched as her father started to smile. “I am free to do as I like, and they should not be able to do this to me anymore.”

As she turned, intending to flee the room and head home at once, she barely caught sight of her parents’ expressions, but what she did see there startled her. Her father was still smiling, clearly proud of her words, but in Althea’s face too, there was also a small smile.

Wait… is she proud of me too?