Saving Grace (7 page)

The older woman had opened her mouth in protest but closed it now. After a few seconds, Miranda nodded her acquiescence. “As you wish.”

“We both know my father is bent on marrying me off,” Grace began. “And sooner or later Helen as well. He’ll stop at nothing till he’s seen the deed done and taken what money he can from it. Helen, with her beauty, is in particular danger.”

A pained look flickered through Miranda’s eyes; Grace knew her maid had come to care for Helen almost as much as she did. Grace reached out, taking Miranda’s hands in hers, imploring her to understand.

“We both know that Helen is far too shy and delicate to be sold off to some unfeeling male. She wouldn’t fare well.”

“Which leaves the burden on you,” Miranda said woefully.

“Unless ...” Grace began. “Unless something so dreadful happened that neither of us could marry.” She hurried on before Miranda could interrupt. “Last night I was found with a man in his bed.” she whispered — it was too horrible to speak about it above that.

A sort of choked laugh escaped her lips, but lest Miranda think she was losing her mind, Grace brought her hands up quickly to cover her mouth. It
was
laughable, really. She’d never even been kissed; turning her cheek to avoid Sir Lidgate’s lips did not count.

And now Father is to hear that I’ve been in a man’s bed.
She didn’t relish the fit of temper that bit of news was likely to cause. She’d have to be certain to warn Helen and Christopher. Perhaps she would be fortunate enough that their father would be taken in for his debts before he found out.

Because if he were able, he would either call on Lord Sutherland or call him out, only to discover that his circumstances were not much improved over their own. She was counting on Lord Sutherland’s lack of wealth to protect them both. Her father would be unable to extract any payment for her disgrace, and he would see no any monetary benefit in forcing a marriage.

And no one else will be willing to offer for me either. Even Lidgate — with all his talk of my innocence — would not want a bride who has been ruined. I shall be free, and Lord Sutherland will be no worse for it.

“If your father finds out, there could be a duel,” Miranda warned.

Grace nodded, already prepared for the argument. During her nightmares, the solution had come to her. “Father is too much a coward to duel. He’ll send Christopher.”

“And you’d have your own brother die for you?” Miranda said, disapproval puckering her lips.

“Of course not,” Grace said, exasperated. “I’ve spent the past sixteen years of my life keeping that boy out of trouble — no easy task, mind you. Do you think I’d let all that good effort go to waste?” She shook her head as she turned from her maid. “I would never endanger him. I’ll post a letter to Christopher today, apprising him of the situation. If Father sends him to confront Lord Sutherland, Christopher will simply go elsewhere. If I am fortunate, Christopher and Helen will both be safely away before Father ever hears of my troubles. Perhaps our inheritance will even be settled by then.” Grace spoke brightly, clasping her hands and facing Miranda, who rolled her eyes.

“And perhaps Harrison will quit snorting like a deranged pig.”

“Harrison is a dear, suffering so to be here with me,” Grace said, defending him. “Would that I could send you both back to London. I worry over Helen at home without me.”

“She’ll be fine,” Miranda said, her tone softening. “You’ve more need of us right now.”

Grace bit her lip. “I fear that I do — more than ever.” She’d come to the part of her plan Miranda was least likely to be in favor of.

“Father will be furious. He’ll wish he could flay me for such a careless mistake.” Grace winced, remembering all too well the times she had felt the sting of a switch. “I’ll post a letter to Helen too,” Grace said, once again fearing for her sister. “She cannot be home when Father receives the news. But as for me — and what happened here last night — there will be nothing he can do, no way to repair the damage to me, or to Helen, either. Our
family’s good name,
” Grace said sarcastically, “will be beyond repair.”

“And will you write your father a letter as well?” Miranda asked. “Telling him all that has transpired last night?”

“Oh, no,” Grace said. “He’ll not hear from me. He will simply ... hear of it.”

For everything to transpire, the servants would have to talk. Grace thoroughly intended that those few scandalous moments be recounted explicitly to the right people and at the right places. She suppressed a shudder as she recalled them: the surprise of Lord Sutherland’s arm across her chest, the feel of
his
chest, bare beneath his robe when she’d pushed him away —

“Being in Lord Sutherland’s bed is enough to ruin me, and any possibility for Helen as well,” Grace reiterated, feeling both determined and delighted. “And if neither of us can marry, Father will simply have to get on another way — without us. And we will be free of him.”

“It is what the duke intended all along,” Miranda said.

“I know,” Grace said. “And it pains me to have to besmirch his good name in ruining mine. But I see no other way. Father will not desist. Not when he believes there is money to be had through us. We must take this opportunity that has befallen us.”

“Dear girl.” Miranda wrung her hands. “You worry over the reputation of the deceased, when it’s your own life you ought to be thinking on. You don’t realize what you’d suffer.”

“Perhaps not,” Grace agreed. “But I can well imagine what I — and Helen — may suffer if I do not take this action.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “Thus far I’ve been fortunate in finding ways out of disagreeable marriages. We both know that that cannot go on forever. What will be Mr. Preston’s disposition? Will I be barring my door at night from him as well? Will he wish me to sit demurely at his side and hold my tongue the remainder of my days while he heaps whatever abuses he fancies upon me? Grandfather left me that money so I would not have to marry. I believe he would agree with this decision.”

“There must be another way,” Miranda implored.

“There isn’t,” Grace said. “God has given us this oar, and we must use it to make our escape.”

Miranda wasn’t entirely able to hide her half-horrified, half-shocked look at the mention of Deity.

“I’m sorry,” Grace hastened to apologize. “But I feel that He, too, would want to help me, and so He has. Now it is up to us to do our part.”

Miranda took a step back from the bed and shook her head. “I don’t want to know what that part is.”

“It’s quite simple, really.” Grace began pacing the floor, taking a minute to think her plan through more thoroughly. She hadn’t walked but a few steps when the room blurred before her eyes; she stumbled and nearly fell.

“
My
part
ought to be ensuring you stay in bed and get well.” Miranda’s scolding tone returned.

“A luxury I can ill afford,” Grace objected. She leaned on Miranda and steadied herself, waiting for her head to clear. It was discouraging to find she felt faint and weak as she had the previous evening. Shrugging off her discomfort, she straightened to her full height — still shorter than Miranda’s — and spoke in her most commanding tone.

“We must make haste to Mr. Preston’s as soon as possible. Once there, your task ...” She paused, catching Miranda’s eye and holding it. “Is to gossip.”

Grace wrapped her trembling fingers around a cup of hot tea, hoping the warmth would steady them — steady her. Behind her, Miranda deftly wove Grace’s hair into an acceptable — if not fashionable — knot at the base of her neck.

“At least your hair’s tamed now.” Miranda spoke with the satisfaction of accomplishment. Grace knew that, given the state of her hair this morning, after being damp and loose all night, that shaping it into any sort of bun was nothing short of miraculous.

“It does feel better. Thank you.”
Most
of her felt quite a bit better after eating a piece of toast and getting dressed in her own clothes. Her chest still hurt, and her hip and back were sore and bruised — either from the fall from Sir Lidgate’s horse, the carriage accident, rolling off Lord Sutherland’s bed, or, quite probably, the three combined. But all in all, her physical condition was much improved. Her mind, so clear and focused earlier, was another matter entirely; the shaking teacup was evidence of her nerves as she contemplated what they were about to undertake.

Grace gave up any hope of drinking and set the cup back in the saucer before she spilled tea all over her gown, which Harrison had retrieved from their broken-down carriage. “Are we ready, then?” She looked into the glass and caught Miranda’s eye once more.

“Lord Sutherland’s landau is below. Mr. Kingsley assured us that it would be no problem to use it.”

“In the same way it was no problem to make use of Lord Sutherland’s bed last night?” A nervous giggle escaped Grace’s lips. “Mr. Kingsley knows no such thing about the landau,” she guessed. “It seems he takes far too many liberties with his lordship’s possessions.”

“He may have just cause.” Miranda placed a final pin in Grace’s hair. “Mrs. James says Lord Sutherland is home not one day of twenty. It’s up to her and Mr. Kingsley to keep this place going. Kingsley must make decisions if anything is to be run halfway proper.”

“I certainly do not begrudge him his kindness and generosity last night,” Grace said sincerely. “If our plans come to fruition, he has done an even kinder turn than he realized.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Miranda said. Contrary to her usual restraint, she’d made her mind known about Grace’s scheme. “But don’t trouble yourself over using a carriage.” Miranda handed Grace her bonnet. “Kingsley said there were several to choose from. It’s doubtful Lord Sutherland will miss one.”

This was not good news. She didn’t want Lord Sutherland to have several carriages or anything else. For her plan to work, he needed to be near destitute.

“Whether he misses it or not, I detest having to borrow anything from him. And I certainly do not want Father to be able to
gain
anything from him.” Grace frowned into the mirror as she placed the bonnet upon her head. How she hated being in anyone’s debt. It was the very thing she’d both endured and fought against her entire life. “I suppose Mr. Kingsley believes it better that we’re gone before Lord Sutherland arises.”

“I’d wager you’re right,” Miranda said.

Grace’s fingers stilled on the bonnet strings. “Must you use that term?” She stood abruptly and faced Miranda.

Miranda looked as stricken as Grace felt. “My apologies, Miss Thatcher.” Miranda curtsied before crossing the room to pack the valise.

Grace winced at the formality she’d all but begged those in her employ
not
to use. “It’s all right,” she said, regretful for having given the reprimand. She’d acted as many did toward their servants, but she felt she oughtn’t have. Miranda had meant no harm, but Grace could tell that her rebuke had done plenty to injure the tenuous friendship they’d formed since Grandfather’s passing. Before then, Grace had had as little interaction with Miranda as possible, but in the months since Grandfather had died, and during the ensuing crisis of her father’s debts, Miranda had become much more than a servant. She’d become a friend and confidante.

Miranda’s back had stiffened, and the mask of aloofness had descended over her face once more. Her lips pressed together into what Grace was certain would be an extended silence. With one sentence, she had sent Miranda firmly back into her role as her maid.

Grace tried another apology. “You know the term
wager
dredges up many a painful memory for me. But it’s none of your doing. I am truly sorry I said anything at all.”

“A lady does not apologize to her staff,” Miranda pointed out, her tone somewhat stern.

Grace smiled. “
This
lady will apologize as she needs to. I believe my mother named me Grace in the hopes that I would exhibit some.”

Miranda did not return her smile, but Grace thought she might have seen a hint of approval in the older woman’s eyes.
No doubt she feels as much a governess as a lady’s maid
.

But there wasn’t much Grace could do about that at the moment. She was trying her best to find her way in this world so different from the one she’d grown up in. It wasn’t easy, and at times, when she thought about her old life, she realized that in some ways, it had been far simpler before the duke had offered her his home and a secure future.

Miranda continued to pack in silence, and Grace crossed to the window, looking out at the unkempt grounds while rehearsing in her mind all that she, Miranda, and Harrison had discussed this morning in a hasty tête-à-tête in the privacy of this room.

“Your wet clothing really ought to be washed before we leave.” Miranda held up Grace’s still-damp, muddy gown. “I’d intended to see to it this morning.”

“No matter,” Grace said, privately glad she’d been wearing one of her plainest, black mourning frocks, and not one of her newer gowns, for travel. “It’s likely ruined. We cannot spare another minute on such frivolities.” In part, that was true. The sooner they arrived at Sir Preston’s in Lord Sutherland’s carriage — something that had been Harrison’s idea — the sooner Miranda and Harrison could start spreading the tale that would lead to her ruin. More than that, Grace had a strong desire to avoid another meeting with Lord Sutherland. As she guessed Mr. Kingsley felt the same, she thought it far better if she was gone when the lord awoke.