FromNowOn (7 page)

Sebastian was gentle and caring, making sure she had
pleasure, but she sensed he did so in order that he could enjoy his final
release as he wished.

Release for him meant fast and hard and deep. As he spilled
his seed in her, his expression changed from one of intense effort to one of
complete freedom and relief. It also made her happy he groaned and sighed just
as she did.

He freed her legs and she stretched out.

He did not roll from her, relaxing over her without
squeezing the breath from her body.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

His heated breath warmed the skin of her neck.

“I’m just happy, I guess.”

“You should be, you’re a duchess.”

She traced the arching line of his brow. “Can you ask me to
marry you again? I think I’m ready to say yes now.”

“Will you marry me, Grace?”

“Yes, Sebastian. I will marry you.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Sebastian had put his foot down when Grace suggested Vicar
Lawrence marry them. Instead they took a carriage to Camborne.

Grace looked fetching in her silvery-blue dress and blue
accessories. She had a thick ribbon under her breasts that tied into a rather
large bow behind her, not that he could see it but she was sitting with a
straight back in the carriage seat, hoping not to crush the accoutrement.

Finally, his mistakes were being made right in this one
perfect decision.

“After our Continental wedding tour, I thought we should see
my mother before we return to London,” he said.

Her face paled and she turned away from him, all gaiety gone
from her expression.

“No, I can’t. You said we would let a seaside cottage.”

“I did not mean it. We will do as all couples do. I won’t
have people thinking I don’t want to show off my bride.”

“No, I thought you understood I was never leaving Cornwall.
This is my home. I’m not going back to London.”

He leaned forward, bracing one arm on his knee and reaching
for her hands, now clutched in her lap. “Dearest, you can’t hide here forever.”

“I mean it, Seb. You might as well stop the carriage now.”

“You would rather I were just your lover rather than your
husband?”

“I won’t be forced to go back.”

“Are you afraid some old tabby will look at you funny?”

“You’ve never taken my feelings about this seriously.”

“It has only been a week, Grace. I don’t know all your
feelings about it. You haven’t shared.”

“I’m sharing now and I don’t want to go to London.”

“Or leave Cornwall.” He sat back and stared at her. “So the
choice is having you and never knowing the thrill of another London Season, no
gambling, no carousing and no racing. Or boxing.”

He meant it as somewhat of a joke but Grace was all
seriousness.

She didn’t answer, but her lips were pressed in a fine line.

He grinned at her. Yes, there were more than exterior scars
but he wasn’t making the mistake of thinking he could solve them all with a
week’s worth of beddings. “The choice is easy, Grace. You will be Lady Ridgley
but I’m only agreeing as long as you allow me plenty of candles in our
bedchamber.”

* * * * *

It took seven years to convince her.

Every spring, Sebastian made the overly long trip back to
London, leaving Grace and the ever-expanding brood of children so he could take
his place in the House of Lords.

Naturally he knew her aversion but that didn’t stop him from
asking. And he had asked each of the first five years. Those few months in
London alone were brutally difficult for a man who enjoyed his wife’s bed and
those amusements that could be found in a loving bond.

And the children. Well, he had not expected the emotional
hooks that burrowed into his heart and nearly killed him each time he had to
leave them.

He had not asked last year, feeling he could not bear her
sad look again.

When the seventh spring approached, Seb had been feeling
restless. Determined to do his duty as a lord and peer, he had not talked much
to Grace about his departure. Seemingly it was better to mount the steps to the
carriage and be off rather than postpone the inevitable emotional upheaval.

It had only occurred to him recently that Grace had myriad
reasons to hate the springtime and in London particularly. Hammond had scarred
her during the spring so naturally spring’s arrival would remind her of that
event and Hammond’s death.

Now Seb departed each spring, leaving her behind and
allowing her to wallow in the fact she could not bring herself to enjoy another
London Season with its fashions and gossip and general revelry. He was
seriously considering not going this year.

When she approached him in January… Well, approached was the
wrong word. They were lying in bed together, Grace having been needed in the
middle of the night to settle their youngest son, David James, causing them
both a moment of wide-eyed clarity at two in the morning. The candle she had
carried still burned on the nightstand.

Her head was cradled on his chest. His arm was around her
shoulders. It was the best kind of closeness. Peaceful and warm. Harmonious.

Her bare leg draped over his naked groin. Yes, the best kind
of closeness.

“I was thinking it would be good for Christopher and Nicolas
to go to London with you this year.”

“Hmm.”

“They are six years old and it is time they experienced
something other than staid Cornwall.”

“You would miss them terribly, you know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Exactly. I thought we would all go with
you. Not just them.”

“Grace?”

“I know. I surprised myself when I thought about it but I
hate it when you go. I miss you terribly and so do the children.”

“I don’t want you to feel you have to,” he said.

“I thought you wanted me to go?” She pushed up beside him,
the sheet dipping and revealing tantalizing curves.

“Oh I do. You have shocked me, that is all. In truth, I
would be delighted to have you accompany me, Lady Ridgley.” He pressed a kiss
to her temple. “It will be wonderful to have you with me.”

“And I thought we might leave early. Then I could shop for
some new dresses.”

“Shop?”

“And perhaps I could hire laborers to refurbish the townhome
since nothing has been done in thirty years.”

“While you shop?”

“Well, yes. And then perhaps we could host a ball. Early in
the Season, I think. There are so many people I haven’t seen who still write to
me. And the children need to meet their peers, especially Christopher.”
Christopher was older than Nicolas by thirty minutes. The current Viscount
Lionel should begin to make a name, even if it was only playing at Hyde Park
with his young peers.

“The twins are only six.”

“When do you think we could leave?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Oh no! That’s much too soon. I thought perhaps in two
weeks. Old Madge told Mr. Felix the weather is about to change.”

“Old Madge?”

“From Redruth.”

“You mean the Gypsy?”

“She’s very intuitive about things. She said if we traveled
during the second week we would make it to London in under seven days. And if
we are traveling with the children, I think we will all be happier to arrive
sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t think the words of a Gypsy will make a difference.”

“She’s very reliable. She predicted the sex of each of
Baroness Sanhurst’s children.”

“She’s only had two.”

Seb had happily accepted Grace and the children were
traveling with him. The rest of the discussion had lost some of its appeal when
Grace turned toward him and her breasts heated his side, distracting him from
wherever the conversation was headed. He peeled back the covers, exposing her
to the hip.

“But it is amazing. I didn’t think the twins were twins and
I was sure I was having—”

He sucked on one of her nipples.

“A girl.”

Breasts were breasts no matter the time of day.

“It’s late,” she said.

“And we are wide awake. Roll over and I’ll do my best not to
disturb you.”

Grace rolled to her back, her eyes shining and her mouth
curved into a smile. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

“I heard everything that was important. You and the children
are coming with me to London. Now I’d like to hear you say something like,
‘Seb, you’ve been a good boy. May I suck your cock?’”

She giggled. “I just did that for you two days ago.”

“We eat every day.”

He batted away the rest of the covers and braced himself
over her. “Prepare yourself, madam, for a royal tupping.”

“Promises, promises.”

“I keep my word.”

She spread her legs around him, wrapping one leg around his
trim waist. She hummed a bit as she felt the first surge of his erection
against the wet folds between her thighs.

She brushed her hands down his back, pausing to shape them
over the round curves of his ass. The gentle urge was enough for Seb. He thrust
into her, unable to stop the throaty groan as he went deep into her welcoming
passage.

“I love you, Seb,” she whispered.

Those were the words he waited to hear. Not a day went by
when she didn’t tell him. She did not write him a letter that did not include
the sentiment. And never, ever did he enter her body when she did not utter
those simple, life-changing words.

“I love you too, Gracie.”

* * * * *

Two weeks did not seem enough time to prepare for a trip
that was seven years in the making, so Grace was much relieved when they
finally had all three carriages and the entourage of governesses, helpers,
valets and lady’s maids all stuffed inside.

Old Madge was right. The weather held, allowing the children
much-needed playtime with each coach stop. David James and Penny, now four,
wanted their mama at the start of each day so they rode in the coach until midmorning.
It never took long for Penny to climb into her Papa’s lap, an occasion Seb
always encouraged.

As they inched closer to London, Grace felt the pangs of
anxiety she had thought under control. Even as she sat in the carriage she
couldn’t stop from turning her face away from Seb and staring outside.

Was she really ready to endure the critical and unforgiving
crowds?

She glanced at Seb to find he was watching her.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “It is a simple matter
to turn the carriage around.”

All she could do was give him a halfhearted smile.
“Nonsense. I have a ball to plan.”

Seb had made her feel beautiful again. Would the
ton
try to take it away from her?

The morning of the day they would arrive in London, the
twins and Penny crowded into their carriage. David James stayed with his governess.
Both of the boys sat next to a window and Penny was once again in her father’s
lap. Seb pointed out landmarks and the boys fired questions about racehorses
and duels.

Grace concentrated on breathing. As wonderful as London was,
she could not make herself feel the joy of coming home, even though her sisters
had been ecstatic to hear she was returning at last.

The Traynor home on Hanover Square did not have a name—it
being a newer style that didn’t possess historic significance—but Grace was
ready to renovate and make it their home.

The boys tumbled from the carriage once it came to a stop.
Barely.

Seb still carried Penny but he reached back for Grace,
clutching her hand as she descended from the carriage.

Once she was safely off the street, Seb wrapped his free
hand about her waist and kissed her forehead. “I’m so glad you are here with
me.”

From there it was a whirlwind of activity, starting the next
morning when her sisters arrived. Sebastian busied himself during the day—his
presence at night was a necessary comfort for her.

Naturally her sisters would be integral to planning their
ball. Two hundred of London’s elite would be invited.

Her sisters had gotten it into their heads that she should
wait until the night of the ball to be seen. Sebastian only raised a brow at
the suggestion. Within days nearly everyone had confirmed attendance,
supporting her suspicions there was gossip and she was central to it. There
would be myriad entertainments elsewhere on that evening. Why else would so
many come to her ball?

She had to admit that having a skilled French dressmaker
attend her was a particular indulgence she had missed. Vanity was one thing but
she wanted a stunning dress to take the attention away from
her
.

Seb had arrived in her room on the third day of fittings and
cuttings. He said, “Monsignor LaPierre, whatever my wife needs. The best of
everything, if you please.”

“Don’t encourage him, Ridgley. I’ve spent scads of your
money already. Oh, and you should see what he is making for Penny.”

“Penny needs a French designer gown? For a ball she will
sleep through?”

Just then Penny, who was sitting on the floor behind her,
peeped around the wide skirts Grace was wearing.

“It’s pink, Papa.”

Nothing could make Seb light up like a word from his
daughter. “Pink, is it? With lots of ruffles and bows?” He strolled farther in
to the room, avoiding the dressmaker and his two seamstresses. He bent,
swooping up Penny who laughed, wrapping her arms about his neck.

“I thought we should introduce the children to everyone,”
Grace said.

“After which I will introduce my countess. Are you wearing
pink also?”

“No, it’s red. And very scandalous.”

Seb grinned at her. “From now on, all your gowns must be
French. The more scandalous the better.” He glanced at his daughter and tapped
her nose. “And you, my little princess, will never, ever wear red.”

Penny had popped her thumb in her mouth and run her fingers
through his cravat, a sure sign she was tired. She nodded, agreeing with
anything her papa said.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Just deathly afraid.”

“They will be talking about this ball to end of the Season.
Is this the dress?” He touched the mannequin and ran his finger along the
décolletage.

“It is.”

“And you expect me to play the perfect host all evening when
you are dressed in this? I thought you knew me better.”

“I wanted you to have something to which to look forward.”

“After the ball?”

“After the ball.”

* * * * *

Grace sat in front of her mirror while Trish brushed her
hair and coiled the dark masses into an artistic dream. She still had her
moments of self-doubt, but if she could get through tonight, she thought there
was no other obstacle in life she could not overcome. The red gown with its
silky shimmer and superb fit was shocking for any woman of the
demimonde
,
let alone a countess, displaying the creamy mounds of her breasts and revealing
the round of her shoulders, and perhaps just a bit more. The dress would be a
perfect foil, distracting everyone from her less-than-perfect qualities.