Saving Grace (28 page)

“He handled Grandfather’s estate.” Grace did not offer explanation beyond that, but her brow furrowed as if she were considering something. They drove in silence for a minute, when she turned to him suddenly. “May I trust you, Lord Sutherland?”

He’d thought he was through being taken aback by her. Apparently not. “Have I given you any reason to distrust me — lately?” he asked.

She frowned as she studied him. “Well yes, actually. At times, like today, I feel as if we are almost friends. But at others — when we are with your mother, for example — I feel you would like nothing more than to be rid of me. Does that sort of duplicity seem trustworthy to you?”

“No,” he answered in a surly tone. She’d pinpointed him exactly. He had been wavering, his thoughts and feelings about her confused. He grimaced, disgusted with his behavior and irritated that she felt unable to trust him.

“Nevertheless,” he continued, “I am a man of my word. If there is something you need help with, I will do what I can to assist.”

She nodded, then looked away. The curricle rolled on, and Nicholas didn’t know whether he ought to drive faster or slower, whether he should put an end to the unsettled feelings or should prolong them by taking the long road, or whether he even wanted her to divulge what was troubling her.

“Well?” he said, after at least a minute or two had passed and his curiosity got the better of him.

She glanced at him, batting those long eyelashes in mock innocence. “Yes?”

“What is this situation you would like to trust me with?”

She smiled. “I have not yet decided if it would be wise to tell you.”

“I see.” He snapped the reins, deciding a faster end to the torture would be preferred.

She hung to the side of the curricle as they picked up speed. “It could affect you as well.”

“In that case, you should definitely tell me,” Nicholas said. “You should have told me already.”

“I tried.” Miss Thatcher frowned, as if remembering something unpleasant.

“When?” Nicholas asked.

“That first day in your study. When you refused to believe anything at all that I said.” Her voice held no censure, yet he felt rebuked, all the same.

“Have I not apologized for my behavior that day?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I was never offered a chance to speak the truths I wished to.”

Nicholas slowed the team. “You may speak them now. Tell me anything you wish, and I will listen. You have my undivided attention.” He pulled back on the reins and guided the horses to stop at a sunny spot on the side of the road.

Miss Thatcher clasped her hands in her lap. “Do you promise that you will not be angry?”

“No. That would be ridiculous. How can you expect me to judge my reaction to something when I do not yet know the circumstance?”

“Complete honesty,” she said, giving him a tremulous smile.

Perplexed, he stared at her. “What?”

“That is what you told me was expected that first day in your study. It is what you have given with your answer just now.” She took a deep breath. “And it is what I shall endeavor to tell you now.”

He nodded, glad that she planned to continue, yet bracing himself to be upset by whatever it was she was about to reveal.
About Preston?

“My brother, Christopher, has been in London, meeting with Mr. Littleton. Grandfather left us a small inheritance, you see.”

“Is your brother attempting to take it all?” Nicholas asked, his uncharitable thoughts toward Preston transferring to this Christopher.

“Oh no,” Grace said. “He is attempting to secure it for us children. You see, the new Duke feels that the entailment entitled him to the entire estate, that it was not within the bounds of the law for Grandfather to leave us anything at all.”

“It is possible that he is correct,” Nicholas said. “Isn’t the estate quite large? Is there some reason the new heir feels the need to retain all of the funds?” He had not been acquainted with Miss Thatcher’s grandfather personally, but the man’s wealth was widely known. As the seventh duke in the line, his holdings were vast.

Miss Thatcher looked down at her lap. “The new duke wishes to keep the money from us because he thinks to marry my sister.”

The girl could do worse than marrying a duke, especially considering her father. “And that is a problem because ...”

“It’s terrible,” Miss Thatcher said. Nicholas was surprised to see her eyes filling with tears. “The man is selfish and cruel, and Helen would be miserable with him.”

Nicholas was beginning to understand. “So he hopes that by withholding your funds, he can force her to marriage.”

Miss Thatcher nodded. “My sister is barely eighteen. Not so young, I know, but Helen is overly shy. She fainted at the first dance after her coming out.”

“Sounds familiar,” Nicholas muttered.

She ignored the reference. “We never could persuade her to attend another ball. She was too frightened, and she is terrified of the new duke.”

Nicholas leaned back against the seat, considering the dilemma. “Your father knows nothing of this?”

“No,” she confided. “Otherwise, he’d have sold Helen to the new duke in a thrice. Our inheritance is likewise a secret.”

“Else there would be no inheritance left,” Nicholas surmised.

She nodded. “But if we can continue to keep our father from learning of it, and if the law is on our side, and if the matter is settled in our favor ...”

Did she realize the amount of ifs she’d described? Or the rather slim prospect that all would turn out as she hoped?

“If the settlement is released to us,” she continued, hope evident in the animated use of her hands and in the light in her eyes, “I plan to take Christopher and Helen far away. We could live simply on what Grandfather left us and live in peace. That was what we intended all along. But now ... if you will let me go.” She met his eyes as she added the last.

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What he and Mother had been discussing in earnest almost every night — how to be rid of Miss Thatcher.

“Why are you here now?” Nicholas asked.

“I am buying time,” she admitted. “I’d hoped the issue of our inheritance would be resolved by now. I agreed to go on this trip my father arranged in an effort to give the matter more time to get settled, and to protect Helen. Father wanted to send her, but I persuaded him to send me instead.”

As always, her concerns circled back to her siblings. Nicholas found himself admiring her for it. Maybe there was something to her mother’s wisdom after all that the way of happiness lay in caring for another — or whatever pleasant feeling it was he’d enjoyed this afternoon — because he suddenly very much wanted to care for Miss Thatcher, or to at least provide the security she and her siblings longed for. It pleased him to think of doing that for them.

Of thwarting their father.

Nicholas recalled how he’d initially judged Grace, pegging her as a fortune hunter out to catch a husband, when in reality, she had wanted nothing to do with him or any other man.

If you will let me go ... I am buying time.

Buying time so neither she nor her sister would marry a man of their father’s choosing.

Yet wasn’t such the plight of nearly every young lady? If not, was letting one’s daughter marry for love any better? He thought of his parents’ reluctant acceptance of Elizabeth’s choice in Mr. Preston.

And look where that led.
Nicholas frowned, irritated that thoughts of Preston had again intruded his day. In this moment that so much seemed to depend on.
If I agree to help Miss Thatcher, if I release her ...
It was the honorable thing to do, the
only
thing to do, yet a part of Nicholas regretted that he must.

“Your face is as dark as a storm cloud,” Grace said. “You are angry about the money. That you didn’t know about it.”

“No.” Nicholas looked at her. “I am not upset with you, either.”

But she’d used a fine analogy; the feelings raging inside him felt like a violent storm brewing. He started to say that she would be angry if she had lost both her sister and father because of one man’s carelessness, or if she had been duped into an engagement that was not to last, but he got no further than, “You —” when he realized how foolish he was and had been.

She had lost her mother and had endured more hardship than he ever would, yet she hadn’t let any of those things darken her soul. And she had not deceived him on purpose.

She tried to tell me that very first day.

“Why are you not bitter?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Why are you not awash in despair over your lot?” If anyone had reason to be angry with the world, Miss Thatcher did.

“I do have my dark moments.” She sighed heavily, likely recalling some of them.

Nicholas wondered how many of those moments he was responsible for.
Several, since she has been here,
his guilty conscience told him.

“But today —” Miss Thatcher paused, her teeth worrying her lower lip, something he’d noted her doing when she was overly nervous or agitated, as she had been the day she’d confronted him in his study.

What has she to be anxious about now?
Their conversation this afternoon had been pleasant enough for him, anyway.

“I will not tell your father of the money,” he assured her. “And I would be happy to meet with Mr. Littleton myself to see if the matter might be quickly settled. And when it is —” He imagined her standing in the hall, bidding him farewell, and felt a strange tug at his heart. “When it is, you may go.”

Gratitude filled her eyes, and she smiled at him — the prettiest smile he’d seen from her yet.
One like she might have given Preston.

It looked as if he would not need to foist her off to him now. If Miss Thatcher truly wished to go far away with her siblings, then Preston would not get her either.
The thought brought little satisfaction. He might not have to marry Miss Thatcher or give her up to Preston, and she would be able to provide for herself. But she would be gone from Sutherland Hall. No longer would he have their evenings in the library to look forward to. No more would he wonder what each day would bring, what new mischief or temptations she might present.

This realization did not sit well with him. Nor did admitting to himself that he really didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want today to end. The hours had flown, with the time spent in her company having been more enjoyable than any time he could think of for the past few years.

“I’ve had many dark times,” she was saying. “But today has not been one of them, because I have been here. With you.” As her words tumbled out, a pretty blush stained her cheeks.

“Are you attempting to flirt with me, Miss Thatcher?” he asked in a stern voice, but inside, his thoughts careened to and fro.

“No!” Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in such a look of abject horror that he had to laugh.

“Lidgate accused me of such, and I did nothing — absolutely nothing to encourage his attention.”

“I am not Lidgate,” Nicholas said, feeling again the desire to strangle the man. “And if you had been flirting, it would not be a crime, you know.” He caught her gaze and held it. “We are still —
betrothed
.” The word that had felt like a shackle seemed suddenly ripe with possibility.

“Yes, but I’ve just told you my plans to leave.” She did not sound at all worried.

“So you have.” Maybe that was why he felt so free — free to care about her, to pursue her if he wished. “But the fact remains that, right now, today, we are still engaged to be married.”

“But I was not flirting.” Her blush was back. “I meant only to give you a sincere compliment. Today has been ...”

“Unexpectedly pleasant?” he suggested, for that was exactly how he felt about it.

She nodded.

“Perhaps your sunny disposition has spilled into my stormy one,” he mused.

“Perhaps.” She said nothing else but continued to look at him curiously until it was he who felt discomfort.

“Would you consider joining me again on another round of visits in the future?” He could have required it of her; it was well in his right to order her to do whatever he wished — no matter that their situation was temporary. He waited for her to answer, wanting to hear that she desired his company as much as he suddenly desired hers.

See what one compliment has done?
He scolded himself.
Don’t act the besotted fool.

“I would very much like to accompany you again — if I am still here.”

“If you are still here,” he agreed.

My Dearest Helen,

We have a new and surprising ally. Lord Sutherland has gone to London to meet with our solicitor …

Samuel rested his chin on his arms as he leaned forward against the fence. “Elizabeth died — in childbirth.” He didn’t elaborate, and Grace, facing him as she stood on the bench, did not press. She had asked about his daughter and how it was that the Sutherland family did not know of her existence. Samuel had just begun his story, yet Grace could see that the telling pained him already.

“Elizabeth was in fine health, right up to the day her labor began,” he explained. “So well that I’d begged her to take care of herself. She was nothing if not the very beat of life — attentive and active, involved in everything around her. Being with child only seemed to intensify those traits.” The wistful smile of memory touched Samuel’s lips, making Grace yearn to know how it would feel to be loved and cherished as much as Samuel had loved and cherished Elizabeth.