Chapter 9

Philip felt like ice had been pooled in his veins. He blinked, staring at the man before him.

I should hate him, shouldn’t I?

“You?” Philip managed, pulling at the cravat around his throat in some desperate need to loosen it. “You showed him how to gamble?”

“We ran into each other one night at our club,” Lord Garton said, grimacing and looking very pitiful indeed. “He was looking for a distraction, a rush, some excitement, and I foolishly suggested we go and gamble. He’d never tried it before. To my shame,” he paused, just long enough for a heavy exhale to escape him, “he loved it. As I did. We lost a lot of money together at those tables. We parted with our money to cheats and con men.”

He grunted then cursed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting revenge on me for what I had done, but the thought that Grace was part of that revenge…” He paused again, clearly unable to finish the sentence now, for he looked quite sick. He raised a shaky hand and wiped his mouth.

“No.” Philip sat on the edge of his chair, speaking in a rush, determined for the Marquess to understand him. “I knew nothing of this. And it does not matter.”

I cannot hate him, can I? Look at him.

Whatever anger there should have been sizzling in his gut directed at this man was not there. All he felt instead was sorrow and pity. He just wished he could free the man before him both from the physical and emotional pain he was suffering.

“As for blaming yourself for my father’s debts, do not do that.” Philip shook his head. “You may have introduced him to the card table, but only one man continued to go back there, time and time again, to lose it all, everything that we had.” He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as best as he could. “That was my father.”

I loved him, but forgiving him for what he has put me and Eleanor through is a great task indeed.

“Thank God,” the Marquess mumbled. “I do not think I could have born having another thing added to my list of things I couldn’t forgive myself for. Had it been revenge on Grace, ah, I could not have handled it.” He raised that shaky hand once again and scratched his face.

“You need to rest, My Lord.” Philip stood. “If I have your agreement for the marriage, then I will go and solicit a special license. Lady Grace and I can marry fast, and this whole scandal will be over in a matter of weeks. What do you say?” He extended his hand toward the Marquess.

Slowly, Lord Garton stood. His strength was failing him, but he was plainly dead set on rising to his feet. He outstretched his hand and took hold of Philip’s, shaking it firmly.

“We have an accord.”

“Good, thank you.” Philip nodded. “I shall leave you in peace now.”

“Wait, before you go…” Lord Garton didn’t let him retrieve his hand just yet. Instead, Lord Garton pulled him across the room with a sudden liveliness that was alarming considering how still the man had been before.

The Marquess went to a stack of shelves in the side of the room.

“My Grace, she is not like other ladies of the ton.”

“Oh, I know.” Philip muttered these words so quietly that this time, Lord Garton didn’t hear him above the noise he was making searching through the books.

She’s very different indeed.

He thought of the way that whispers followed her, the anger that had possessed him so often when she did not act the perfect lady or when she fell over, her clumsiness plain for everyone to see.

“She likes being outdoors,” the Marquess said in a rush. “If you ever lose her in your estate, it’s because she will have gone riding or for a walk. She’s in her element there.”

“She is?” Philip asked. “Forgive me, but with Grace’s clumsiness, I would have thought she would be likely to fall off her horse.”

“Yes, I was worried about that too when she was younger.” The Marquess allowed himself a small laugh. “Yet Grace rides as if it is as natural to her as breathing. You will allow her these freedoms, won’t you? To explore, to adventure, to be who she wants to be?”

“I will.” Philip nodded slowly.

The Marquess renewed his search of the bookcases with vigor, tearing books down and turning the pages, intent on finding something.

“What is it you are looking for?”

“Something to show you. If you are to be Grace’s husband, then you must understand her. You must see what the scandal sheets do not see when they talk of my Grace.” The Marquess’ manner grew sharp as he glowered at each book in turn.

The anger wasn’t at Philip, but plainly the writers of those sheets. “They can only talk of the fact that she trips on her hem or that she might reach for the wrong glass at dinner or that she couldn’t recognize the Prince Regent by sight. What do any of these things matter, I ask you?”

Philip didn’t answer. He had a feeling Lord Garton wasn’t looking for an answer.

“Ah, here it is.” The Marquess found the book he was looking for and turned the pages frantically. “This is who my Grace is at heart.” He shifted the book toward Philip, encouraging him to read it with a wave of his hand.

Philip turned the first pages. He saw beneath the cover was a flimsy page of writing. Grace’s untidy scrawl was strewn across the page. It read Grace’s notes.

On the next page, numerous detailed illustrations sprung up. They were the most exact botanical sketches that Philip had ever seen. Beside each plant, Grace had noted down its features, even uses of these plants, everything that could be of interest.

Philip flicked through all the pages, to find the book completely full.

“This is who she is,” Lord Garton said after a minute of Philip’s silent skimming. “I wish for Grace in her life to have the freedom to be who she wants to be. That is all I ask of you, Your Grace… if you will permit me to ask for anything after the damage I have done to your family.”

Philip lifted his gaze from the book and met the Marquess’ eye. He was tongue tied, unable to say anything for a bit.

I am marrying Grace to avoid a scandal. I am not here to take care of her, to be her protector.

Yet the thought of saying this to the man who was so withered and panicked before him was gutting. Philip could not possibly frame the words.

“She’ll have her freedom, My Lord,” Philip assured him softly.

Yet the rest between us will be a matter of arrangement. That is all.

Philip already had a plan of the way this marriage would work. He’d find a way to work out his attraction to Grace, perhaps to ride it out of his system on their wedding night. After that, they could lead practically separate lives.

“She will do as she likes with her life. You have my word on that.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Your Grace.” The Marquess offered his hand again. Philip shook it then returned Grace’s botanical book to the Marquess’ grasp.

“I’ll leave you in peace to rest now. I shall write to you soon with the arrangements for the wedding and the special license.”

“Your Grace, it is usual for the bride’s family to pay for the wedding.”

“Let me,” Philip said in a rush. As Grace had no dowry at all, he didn’t doubt that the Marquess couldn’t afford a wedding. “We’ll arrange a small affair within my budget. If that is acceptable to you?”

“Very.” He nodded then sighed. “I just have to tell Grace of this now.”

“She knows. I may have mentioned it before I came to see you.”

“And how did she take that?” The Marquess’ upper lip raised in amusement.

Philip stiffened.

“She said nothing.”

“Then rest assured, Your Grace…” The Marquess nodded at the door. “…before you leave this house, she will very much have something to say to you on this matter.”

Philip nodded, thanking him for the warning.

“Good day, My Lord.”

“And to you.” The Marquess returned to his seat. He flopped down into the chair, evidently exhausted. He reached for a bell and rang it, perhaps intent on drinking tea or finding something stronger for his pain.

Philip took the opportunity to leave, slipping out of the door and heading back down the corridor. He was intent on leaving as swiftly as possible, not giving Grace the chance to stop him so they could talk of what had passed.

I do not need to see her. If I do…

The memory of her lips against his crashed through. He practically growled under his breath as his steps grew firmer and more intent, marching toward the door. It was maddening that the mere memory of her could be a temptation.

She is Eleanor’s irritating friend. That is all. It will be a marriage of convenience.

His hand closed around the front door handle when he heard her voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?”