Saving Grace (45 page)

“It was. I came to Yorkshire as soon as the ruling came down. The funds have been transferred. Mr. Preston was planning to tell Grace after Christmas, when he asked her —”

To marry him.
Nicholas finished what Christopher, looking severely regretful, had not.

“I see,” Nicholas said, cutting him off. He saw only too clearly that it was Preston, not himself, who held all of the cards in this game.

Except that it was no game. It was Grace — and her happiness.

This entire time, she has already had what she wanted — her means to freedom, Preston’s loyalty, and most likely, affection.
Nicholas brought a hand to his mouth once more, confused and distressed by this revelation. “What will you do with the money?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Christopher admitted. “We always planned to go to the north country — far from our father — though that isn’t necessary now. Mr. Preston had found a few possibilities for us, far enough away for Grace to make a new start — had she wanted to,” he added hastily.

“She will be here, of course,” Nicholas said. “You and Helen are welcome to stay as well.”

“Thank you.” Christopher nodded, then looked toward the door once more.

“You may go,” Nicholas said. “Will you give me your word not to mention our conversation to Grace?”

“Not a word,” Christopher agreed. He left, closing the door behind him.

Nicholas stared at it, at the keyhole and the key that Grace had placed in his hand only days ago.
The key to my heart
, she had said.

If her heart had been given another choice, would she have chosen to stay behind his closed door?
When she learns of her father’s death and the inheritance — and of Preston’s feelings for her — will she want to leave?

Her light knock came on his door — he recognized it — and anguish filled him at the thought of never hearing it after today. “Come in,” Nicholas called in a harsh voice that no longer sounded like his own.

She pushed the door open slowly and peered inside. At the sight of him, her eyes brightened. “You
are
here. You did not sound like yourself at all.” She entered and shut the door behind her. “Helen will be a few minutes more.” She smiled as she stood there, hands clasped behind her back, eyes full of expectation.

Nicholas stood and came around the front of the desk, though not kiss her. “I have some news.”

“Oh.” The anticipation left her eyes, replaced by worry. “What is it, Nicholas?” She touched his arm.

He stood stiffly, doing his best to ignore her touch. “Your father is dead.”

Her gasp proved his earlier concern true. He should have found a more gentle way to tell her. “That is the bad news,” he rushed on, sorry to have startled her. “The better news” — he could not bring himself to say
good
, for there was nothing good about it in his mind — “is that your inheritance has come through. The money your grandfather left you is finally yours. You may have your house in the country.”

She had the benevolence to look confused. “Why should I need a house in the country?”

“Why not?” Nicholas asked, feigning indifference to her distress. It would not last long. If she stayed with him and denied her dream — or
dreams
, if Preston was now included in that list — her regrets would be final. Any sorrow she felt now would be temporary, soon wearing off in the joy of her independence. “You no longer require my protection from your father. The money is adequate for you to live wherever you should choose. I believe Mr. Preston knows of a few properties already.”

“Mr. Preston?” Her shock was evident but closely followed by another, fleeting, emotion, which Nicholas wished with all his heart that he had missed — a flash of guilt, brief and intense in the second before she swept it away.

“You wish me to go?” Her voice shook.

“It is what you wanted. It is best.” That word again. How he hated it.

“Best,” she repeatedly numbly, then turned and fled the room, the sound of her steps echoing across the foyer and his heart.

At the urgent knocking on his study door, Nicholas closed the volume of poetry he’d been reading and slid it discreetly in his desk drawer. Later tonight he would retrieve the book and spend some time alone, considering what opinions Grace might have had on the selection.

Rather pathetic that I spend my evenings thus engaged.
But altogether, he had to admit it was an improvement over his previous, pre-Grace activities. His days — and nights — of revenge were over. He liked Preston no more than before.
If anything, I’ve more right than ever to loathe the man.
But hurting Preston would ultimately hurt Grace, and that Nicholas could not do.

“Come in,” he called when the pounding came a second time. He couldn’t imagine what could be so urgent as all that. Since Grace’s departure nearly two months ago,
the house had returned to a state of calm and quiet. Utter boredom.

Loneliness.

The door swung open, and Kingsley entered, a look of unusual trepidation creasing his brow and with what appeared to be a swathe of dripping wet velvet draped over his arm.

Nicholas was at once wary. The last time Kingsley had approached his study in any sort of state other than his usual placidness had been the day of Mr. Thatcher’s visit.

Unless his ghost is haunting me ...

Nicholas’s eyes strayed to the wet fabric. “What have you got there?”

“A cloak, milord. Belonging to a little girl who says that she is here to see you.”

“A child? How peculiar.” Nicholas frowned in puzzlement. The garment Kingsley held appeared too valuable to belong to a tenant. Yet what other child could be visiting him? And why would a little girl come alone, on a cold, wet day like today, unless something was terribly amiss with her parents?

“Would you like me to show her in?” Kingsley asked.

“No.” Nicholas rose from his desk. “I’ll go to her.” The past few weeks, he’d become particular about having visitors of any sort in his study. The room had become hallowed to him, rich with the memory of holding Grace in his arms on this very spot of rug his feet now trod. He feared creating any new memories here or doing anything that might disrupt the solace he derived almost nightly when he sat alone in his chair, remembering all that had transpired in this room.

The key to my heart
…

Memory was not much for a man to live on; neither was it a particularly sane habit, but he was coping with his loss as best he could, and for now, it was only the daily reliving of their time together that allowed him to continue on without her.

They left the study, and Nicholas did his best to clear his head and focus on the matter at hand. “Is the girl quite alone? Did she give you her name?”

“She
is
alone, and she did,” Kingsley said, then hesitated as if he did not wish to say more.

“Well?” Nicholas stopped and turned to him, struggling to keep his old habit of impatience in check. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Beth.” Kingsley swallowed, and a look of unease flitted across his face. “Beth Preston. I believe she is — your niece.”

“My —”

Lady Sutherland’s scream rent the air, and Nicholas rushed toward the sound, nearly falling as he slid across the wet floor, then came to a stop directly in front of the open sitting room doors.

“I’m sorry, milord. The child’s cloak was wet and dripping —”

“Never mind.” Nicholas waved a hand, brushing Kingsley’s apology aside. What did a little water on the floor matter compared with what the butler had said the moment before?

Beth Preston ... your niece.

Nicholas entered the sitting room, his eyes flashing from his mother, who was deathly pale and clutching the back of the sofa as if for dear life, to the frightened and very young child, just peeking out from behind a chair. He caught a glimpse of her curls and guessed at once the shock his mother must have felt but a moment before.

“My
niece
?” Nicholas said in wonderment, repeating Kingsley’s words and coming to that conclusion instead of the other, more illogical one that a ghost from his sister’s childhood stood before him.

“Show yourself, child,” he said, not unkindly, and stepped forward between his mother and the girl, then knelt so as to be closer to her height. “We won’t hurt you.”

She came out from behind the chair, a repentant look upon her face, her hands clasped behind her back. “I didn’t mean to scare her. Well, I
did
mean to, but not that much. I thought it would be you coming into the room and that you wouldn’t scare so easily. Papa never scares as easily as the maids do. He said you would be surprised to see me, but I couldn’t see how unless I jumped out at you ...” Her words trailed off, and she looked down at her feet.

And who might your Papa be?
There could be only one answer to that, and it would anger Nicholas greatly were he to dwell on it and the secret Preston had been harboring until now. Instead, Nicholas forced his attention to the girl, reminding himself that her parentage was not her fault.

“You hid, then jumped out at your
grandmother
—” He threw a glance over his shoulder at his still-pale mother. “On purpose?”

The little girl nodded.

Nicholas felt his mouth twitch. He stood quickly, so she would not see. “That was very ...”
Elizabeth-like.

“Wrong?” the girl suggested.

He nodded and brought a fist to his mouth to hold back laughter.
It is the shock of it all,
he told himself. The shock of seeing this child, so like Elizabeth so many years ago.

“I think your grandmother will be able to forgive you,” Nicholas said. He crossed to the sofa, pried his mother’s fingers from it, and assisted her in sitting.

“How have you —” she began, staring at the girl.

“I’ve no doubt she will tell us how she’s come to be here,” Nicholas said, watching the precocious child. Already recovered from the trauma of the previous moment, she was busy studying the pendulum on the mantel clock.

No doubt trying to discover how to get her hands on it.

His memory stirred, taking him back to this room many years before, when he and Elizabeth were young and had similar designs on the tempting clock. They had built a tower from books and other objects, until it was tall enough for them to reach the mantel. Elizabeth had ascended first, having reminded him that gentlemen always allowed ladies that privilege, and had just reached the top and propped upon the mantel when their nanny was heard in the hall. Self-preserving as he was, Nicholas had taken it upon himself to run and hide. But in the process, he’d knocked their makeshift ladder awry, leaving Elizabeth hanging in a rather unladylike fashion when their distraught nanny entered the room.

The previously forgotten memory brought a smile to his face. “Come here — Beth?” He looked to the doorway and Kingsley, who nodded.

The girl pulled her gaze from the clock with a reluctance Nicholas recognized all too well. Her eyes alone would have given her away as Elizabeth’s child.

And what of Preston, does she have?
He hoped against hope that it was not much.

Her steps were light as she hastened to stand in front of them, going so far as to curtsy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said quite properly.

“And yours,” Nicholas assured her, surprised at how very much he meant it. He looked at his mother.

“Yes,” she said. A bit of the color had returned to her face, but Nicholas could tell that she was still in shock.

“What is it that brought you to visit us this fine day?” he inquired, looking past her to the gloom outside.
Where has your father been hiding you for three years?

“My father brought me here,” she said. “But then he left.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be calling on people by yourself?” his mother asked.

“I am coming up on four, but I think I’m ten,” Beth said. “That is what Father says.”

“Does he?” A surge of jealousy flared to life inside Nicholas when he thought of Preston having this delightful child to himself all this time.
Nicholas recalled the night of Elizabeth’s death — the night of her child’s death too, they’d all been led to believe. It seemed the cruelest of tricks that Preston had let them continue thinking so all this time.

And why send her to us now?
Nicholas did not have to search far to find the answer. No doubt Grace had something to do with the child’s being here. Honest to a fault, Grace would not be able to abide a lie such as this in Preston.

He thought of Grace’s discovering his deceit — and taking him to task for it
.
The image brought a smile to Nicholas’s face.

“So your father thinks you quite grown up?” Nicholas mused, studying the little girl.

Beth nodded. “He says Mother was like that too. She was very smart and very pretty — like me.” She smiled.

“Such humility,” Lady Sutherland muttered, rolling her eyes. But Nicholas caught her smile at the end.

“Why have you come to visit today?” Nicholas asked the child, whom he found more delightful by the minute.
What can be done to keep you here?