16 April 1802, London
Miss Grace Trelawny tapped her foot as she scanned the ballroom once again and gripped her gloved hands in front of her. Her good friend, Lady Selina Skeffington glided over, snapped open her painted ivory Brisé fan, and held it in front of their faces.
“What is the matter, Grace? You look as though you wish to kill someone,” she said in a low voice.
“The Right Honorable Lord Peter Oliver Crostworth,” hissed Grace as she enunciated each part of her betrothed’s name. She blew out a breath in exasperation before continuing in a whisper. “It’s nearly time for the cotillion, and he promised he would be here. He knows how much I enjoy the dance, but he’s nowhere to be seen. We’re to be married in a fortnight, and then dancing will be a thing of the past as he has threatened to keep me at his country home bearing his children.”
Selina gave a delicate shudder and then lowered her fan to peruse the large room. “I don’t see him either, and the orchestra is about to start. Come. Let’s step outside and walk through the gardens. I am not promised to anyone for this dance, and you need to cool down. Your face is getting blotchy.”
Grace grimaced. “The bane of someone with red hair and fair skin.” She sighed and tucked her arm into that of her friend’s, and they strolled out to the terrace and down a few steps into the gardens. As they ambled a meandering brick walk bordered by fragrant flowers and high hedges, Grace leaned closer to Selina.
“Thank you for getting me out of that stuffy room before I made a cake of myself.”
“That’s what friends do. You looked like a kettle that was about to boil over.”
Grace laughed. “What do you know about kettles? Have you ever set foot in a kitchen?”
Selina leaned away slightly as she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Of course, I have. Mother insisted I learn the ways of the kitchen.”
Still smiling, Grace asked, “Did she make you learn to cook as well?”
“Good heavens, no! But I must know what each person does and how to plan meals with the housekeeper. Tedious but necessary.”
“Especially since you are to marry in autumn.”
Selina could not help but sigh, which elicited an unladylike giggle from Grace.
“You always do that when thinking of Lord Pembrook. I must confess I was shocked when your engagement was announced.”
“Yes, many people were,” Selina said. “Even though he’s nearly old enough to be my father and is a widower, he is so very kind to me and tells me I shall never want for anything. I do enjoy our time together and can’t wait for the day when we marry. I wish Mama was not so set on it being the huge social event to kick off next year’s London Season. Though the ceremony itself will be small, she is planning a large breakfast afterward. It is so far off that sometimes I feel as though that day will never arrive.”
“My wedding will be one of the last events of this year’s Season, and I wish I could slow it down,” Grace allowed.
Selina looked up at her friend in surprise. “Slow it down? Why?”
Grace stopped and looked around to make sure no one else could hear them. “The more I get to know Crostworth, the less I like him. He is so pompous, and he disagrees with everything I say. I fear he will be one of those husbands who expects his wife to stay in the background, have no opinion about anything, except how to run a household, and produce a houseful of children. And that’s why dancing will be a rare treat for me. Who wants to squire a lumbering cow on the dance floor?”
“Oh, no. I am so sorry to hear this. He seems so charming and polite.”
“I’m discovering that is a façade.”
“Oh, Grace. I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. The wedding will be in a fortnight, and my life as I know it will be over.”
The two continued their walk in silence, but a few minutes later they became aware of someone moaning.
“Someone’s hurt,” Grace whispered as she released Selina’s arm and quickened her step as her friend tugged at her arm before losing her grip. Grace rounded a trellis of roses forming a small enclave and discovered her intended in a passionate embrace with another woman.
“Peter!” she gasped.
The baron turned quickly, revealing the face of the woman he had been kissing and caressing.
“Barbara?” Grace whispered in a shocked tone.
Lord Crostworth jumped up and tried to embrace Grace, but she quickly stepped back and held out one arm stiffly.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried angrily.
“But Grace, it’s nothing. We’re just having a little fun that’s all.”
Grace looked beyond him to her cousin. “Barbara, I’m surprised at you. How could you do this to me! And you’re married!”
“Oh, don’t remind me,” Mrs. Comerford said impatiently as she stood and adjusted her gown. “Archie is no fun in bed, and Peter is quite fun.” She slanted her eyes at the baron who glanced at her and then tried once more to take Grace in his arms.
She stepped back again. “No. You will not touch me. You will never touch me again. The wedding is off.”
He glowered at her. “But you can’t do that. We’ve signed the marriage contracts.”
“I will never marry you!” Grace said in icy tones as she turned to go back to the ballroom. Peter caught up with her, grabbed her arm, and spun her around.
“You will marry me,” he growled.
“Never!”
He slapped her viciously as Selina screamed.
“Yes, you will.”
Grace’s hand flew to her throbbing cheek as she stared at him. She shook off his arm, whirled around, and began running. Grace heard her friend cry out.
“Leave her!”
Just as Grace nearly ran into someone, Peter caught up with her, grabbed her arm, and slung her roughly around.
“I say, that is no way to treat a lady,” drawled the tall, dark-haired man.
Peter sneered at him. “You mind your own business, Grenbridge.”
“Please help me, Lord Grenbridge,” implored Grace as Peter tightened his hold.
The viscount’s face darkened as he released the arm of his wife and stepped forward. “I believe the lady has requested my assistance; therefore, I demand that you release her at once.”
After the two men glared at each other for what seemed an eternity to Grace but not even half a minute passed, Peter snatched his arm back and smoothed down the front of his waistcoat.
“It was just a lover’s quarrel.”
Grace quickly stepped over to stand beside Lady Grenbridge who put her arm around the young woman’s waist.
“No matter what the reason, a gentleman never hits a lady.”
“I should call you out.”
Both women gasped, but Grenbridge merely replied in a deceptively soft voice, “I would not recommend it.”
After glaring at the viscount for a half minute, Crostworth spun on his heel and stalked back into the gardens roughly brushing against Selina who was standing nearby. Grenbridge turned back to his wife and Grace just as Selina rushed up to her friend.
“Are you all right?” she asked as she lightly touched her friend’s cheek.
“Y-yes. I think so. I can’t believe he...he…” She closed her eyes as she tried to stop the tears. She resolutely blinked them back and looked up at Lord Grenbridge. “Thank you, my lord.”
“You are most welcome. May I be of additional assistance?”
“No. I just want to go home.”
“Then I’ll call for my carriage.”
“No, no. I don’t want to bother you further. I’ll find my parents.”
He smiled. “My wife just said she preferred to go home. She doesn’t enjoy such a crush of people, so it will be no bother at all. Why don’t you remain out here with her, and I’ll return in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The viscount bowed slightly and returned to the ballroom as his wife smiled at Grace.
“Come up to the terrace,” said Lady Grenbridge and led Grace up the steps away from the lights spilling out from the ballroom. “Stay in the shadows, and hopefully, no one will notice your face.”
Grace’s hand flew up to her cheek. “Is it noticeable?” she asked as she looked back and forth between Selina and Lady Grenbridge.
“Yes, it is,” Selina said gently. “The redness does seem to be fading, but it looks a bit swollen. You’ll need to pull your shawl up, too, as your arm is bruising.”
Grimly, Grace looked down and saw red marks where Peter had grabbed her. She pulled the shawl up so that it draped across her shoulders instead of resting on her elbows.
“I look like my mother,” she said with slight disgust as Selina and Lady Grenbridge smiled.
“Not quite,” Selina said impishly. “Her hair is gray.”
Her quip earned a slight smile from her friend and a broader one from Lady Grenbridge.
Grace looked at her ladyship. “Thank you so much for you and your husband coming to my rescue. I’m not sure what would have happened if Lord Grenbridge had not stepped in.”
“I’m just glad Crostworth did not challenge him to a duel. I’d hate to become a widow at my age. Grenbridge despises seeing anyone mistreated, especially a woman.”
“Well, I need to get back inside before Pembrook and my parents begin to worry.” Selina gently kissed her friend’s uninjured cheek. “I’ll call on you tomorrow and see how you are.”
“Thank you.” Grace smiled tentatively. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the ball.”
After Lord Grenbridge escorted Grace to her front door and made sure she was safely inside, she thanked him again for his kindness and waved to her ladyship before Birks closed the door behind her.
“I was not feeling well, Birks, and Lord and Lady Grenbridge were kind enough to bring me home. I’m going to retire now and do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Yes, Miss Grace. I hope you will feel better on the morrow.”
She nodded and then slowly trod upstairs where she found Katie folding newly laundered undergarments. Her lady’s maid looked up in surprise and hurried over to assist Grace with her pelisse.
“You’re home early, Miss. Are you not feeling well?”
“No, Katie, I’m very tired and wish to go to bed.”
“Oh, Miss. What happened to your arm?”
Grace looked down and saw distinct bruises had formed where Peter’s fingers had gripped her. She sighed. “I’d rather not say.”
She walked to the cheval mirror and studied her cheek in the dim candlelight while running her tongue along the side of her mouth. She felt slight cuts where her teeth cut the inside cheek, and that part of her face looked and felt slightly swollen. She turned to find Katie looking at her with concern. “It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”
“Yes, Miss. I’ll go fetch hot water for—”
“No,” Grace interrupted. “I just want to get out of these clothes and into my night rail.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Quickly, Katie helped her out of her gown and undergarments and into her soft white wool nightgown. Wearily, Grace climbed into bed, and then Katie closed the bed curtains as she wished her mistress a good night.
After Grace pulled the covers up to her chin, she closed her eyes and lay still. But sleep eluded her as thoughts raced.
She realized she had never felt the passion in the kiss she had witnessed between Peter and Barbara and the few kisses she had shared with him. She had to admit to herself that she never felt much of anything when in his presence. Although he could be charming and somewhat amusing, he had no interest in politics, world affairs, or events happening in the kingdom apart from social and sporting events. Upon meeting her, he always complimented her on whatever she wore and how lovely she was, but once he described the latest boxing match or, even worse, a cock fight, he had little else to say. She found their conversations to be rather stilted, especially since one can only discuss the weather for so long.
“I wish I’d never agreed to accept his proposal of marriage, but Father and George pushed me into it. This is my third London Season, and Father told me it would be my last.”
She sighed and then continued to speak aloud.
“I had quite a few suitors, but they were all boring, self-centered, cowardly, or too close to their mothers, or they were unpleasant. Peter seemed to be my last hope, but I would rather live as a spinster than live the monotonous life I’m sure will result if we marry. A life of boredom! Attending endless social engagements, listening to him brag of his sporting experiences, and producing child after child while managing an efficient household and engaging in endless needlework of some kind.
“Every time he was late getting home, I would wonder who he had been with. How often would I smell some other woman’s perfume on his clothing? No. No! I cannot live such a life even though Mother has endured Father’s numerous affairs, I won’t have it. I would rather go back to Deer Oaks Park and live out my days as a spinster than to endure a marriage of infidelity.
“No!” she said vociferously as she flung out her arms from beneath the covers as to emphasize her decision. “I cannot and will not marry that man. Somehow I must find a way to convince Father to call it off! I must!”
Grace blew out a breath in exasperation and then chuckled. She rarely talked to herself, but it felt good to voice her thoughts and decisions aloud. Pulling her arms back under the covers, she relaxed and drifted off to sleep.
