Chapter
Thirty-Five

How awkwardly Daniel reacted, Grace thought, when I came upon him earlier in Merry’s room. Was it possible that he had felt the same exhilarating surge she had downstairs, in the music room, when she’d placed his hand on the small of her back? No, she told herself, it was not possible. He no doubt merely felt awkward at being caught upstairs when no one had sent him there.

The duke was right—Merry was an extraordinary man, Grace thought, sitting beside him now as he slept, and he had been extraordinarily kind to her.

Oh, how cruel the world was sometimes! That some people should have so much while others like him, who were kind and deserving, should go through their lives without ever finding love.

Well, now that he was feeling better, once he recovered he might still find it yet. It wouldn’t be with her—he was far too old for her, more like an uncle, really. He was too old for Kate, too. What had Father been thinking?

The entail.

That’s what he’d been thinking, an idea that she was sure must be as far from everyone else’s minds as it was from hers now, now that so much else had happened.

The entail! What a laughably small problem!

And yet Father had been worried about it, and so he had brought in Merry, the duke, too, in the hopes of solving it. The arrival of Cousin Benedict had potentially resolved that issue, leaving Merry without a chance.

No, he was too old for her, but he might yet find someone who would be suitable. And for now, she would be his friend.

She cast about in her mind, considering older women in her acquaintance but not too old. Perhaps she could come up with someone and then play matchmaker? She’d never done anything like it before, but she figured, just because she might be hopeless at finding love for herself, it didn’t mean she’d be hopeless at finding it for someone else.

Rowena Clarke! Benedict’s mother—she was alone in the world! Perhaps…

“Grace?”

“You’re awake!” she cried, pleased.

But then she saw that his hands were shaking horribly as they clutched at the sheets and his teeth were literally chattering in his head as he stuttered out the words, “Wh-wh-wh-what is ha-ha-ha-happening to me?”

She placed her hand on his forehead, and it was ice cold. She grabbed on to one of his shaking hands, and that was ice cold, too. But the room wasn’t. The temperature there was fine.

Grace rubbed one of his hands and then the other between her own.

“I’m so cold,” he said.

“Yes, I can see that, Merry. I’ll just—”

She started to rise from her chair. She was going to go and find some extra blankets from another room; she would grab every blanket she could find, but he stopped her, hanging on to her hand in a desperate grip.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t leave me.”

“No, of course not. I was just going to—”

“Please, Grace!”

What else could she do?

What was there to be done if he was freezing but couldn’t bear to be left alone?

Gently, she pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed beside him, without even taking off her dancing shoes first. He rolled over halfway, so he was on his side facing away from her, and she rolled over in the same direction. She pulled the sheets up over both of them, then she wrapped her arms around his thick waist, pressing the front of her body into his from behind in the hopes of transferring some of her warmth to him.

Since she’d first learned about what married people did, she’d always imagined that one day she’d lie down in bed with a man, but she never imagined that the first time she did so it would be like this.

“That’s better, Grace,” he said, feebly patting at her hands that encircled him. “I feel so much better now.”

But his teeth were still chattering, so loud she could hear them, and he felt so frightfully cold.

This close, he smelled, too, bad, but she didn’t mind that.

“I’m glad,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice.

“Tell me a story,” he said. “Tell me something about growing up here at Porthampton Abbey.”

So she did.

She told him a story of Kate and Lizzy and her when they were just little things, the same one she’d told him when she’d taken him on a tour of the abbey, about Grandmama training them to be able to talk to anybody, no matter what the other person’s station in life, by making them have conversations with the suit of armor, Fred.

The irony of it! She’d been trained to make conversation, and here she couldn’t think of a fresh story to tell, one she hadn’t told him before.

But it didn’t matter. Merry didn’t appear to mind, for as she talked, the chattering in his teeth gradually silenced, the trembling throughout his body slowly subsided and stilled, until finally, there was no movement at all.

Good, she thought. He’s sleeping. Sleep will heal him.

But when she removed her support from behind him, his body fell backward awkwardly against the bed, and she saw that his mouth had frozen open in an unusual position and his eyes were wide, vacant and unblinking.

She almost screamed then.

She’d never seen a dead person before, not someone she cared about, and it did scare her, making her heart race faster.

But she did care about him, so she forced the fear to flee, and then all she could think was, Merry.

He’d actually been quite a nice man. He’d only ever dreamed of finding love.

Merry.

Even though he’d never been married nor had any children, he must have had some family back in London, some friends who would miss him, not to mention that his affairs would need to be settled. No matter what was going on here, they would need to do the right thing by him and calls would need to be made.

Merry.

She placed her palm over his face, gently closing his eyes, and then she laid a soft kiss on his cheek.

She should tell the others, she thought. Everyone must know.

But then she thought: Why?

They were all still dancing, having their good time.

Just because she was sad now, why spoil it for everybody else? She would rejoin the others downstairs, but when she did, she would say nothing of what had just transpired up here.

Morning would come again soon enough. There would be time to tell everybody then.