The coach curtains were drawn back, allowing rays of moonlight to illuminate the interior of Matthew’s coach. Blake hadn’t uttered a word since they left the park. His features were closed off and masked. Grace intently studied her number one agent, waiting for a sign, a wrinkle, the tic of a muscle, something that would give her a clue as to what the man was thinking. Nothing.
“He won’t be able to keep his promise, you know.” Blake bent and rested his elbows on his knees as he massaged his temples. A habit Matthew had adopted since his return.
“I’m fully aware of Matthew’s obsession.” She reached out and touched the back of Blake’s hand. “Are the headaches from stress or from…” Grace sat back as Blake’s eyes opened, and for a flicker, she captured the sight of the depths of anguish her agent had never revealed before. “I’m… I’m sorry for all the years you were assigned to the Continent. I wish I had…”
“The headaches are the result of being separated from Lucy.” He closed his eyes and continued to rub the tender spots on the side of his head. “I don’t think I ever shared with you… No, I know I’ve not told you that each time I was captured and held prisoner during the war, not once did I ever doubt that you would send help or have me rescued. I’d wager that similarly; Matthew shared those same thoughts.”
“You mean Matthew believed Archbroke was the one responsible for his rescue.”
“It was Waterford, a Home Office agent, who ultimately freed the lot of them. But Matthew knows the truth now, not because you told him, but because Theo shared with him the events that had occurred in his absence. Before you marry, he needs to hear from you what all went on.” He leaned back and said, “He’ll marry you, and then he’ll find himself in trouble, for like I said, he won’t be able to keep his word and cease his infernal investigations into PORFs and the like.”
“Are you suggesting I jilt Matthew?” A strange sound came out of Blake’s mouth. Frowning, Grace said, “What was that sound?”
“The noise that I’d be making as Matthew strangled me. If he were to ever hear you utter such a ghastly idea and that it was in some way my idea… I’d be a dead man. Regardless that I’m his brother-in-law and best friend.” Blake tugged on his cravat. “No, you need to convince the powers that be that Matthew should be allowed to continue his investigations.”
The man was insane. She shook her head and said, “What do you even know of the matter?” Blake did have a vault for a memory, able to recall facts, and he possessed the exceptional ability to illustrate scenes, lands, and people with a precision no one could match.
“More than I’ll admit.” Blake glanced out the window.
“What makes you believe I have any influence or that my opinions might carry any weight with the PORFs?”
“Because at least two of them care about your welfare. If it were me, I’d seek out Theo’s assistance before approaching Ellingsworth. But given there is little time before your betrothed sets sail, perhaps you should seek his assistance first.” The coach rolled to a stop in front of her papa’s residence, and Blake shifted to open the door.
Grace moved faster, reaching the exit first. “I shall consider your recommendations. No need to escort me to the door, I’ll be perfectly safe.” She rose and stepped down to leave.
“Then I shall wait here until you have entered.”
“Suit yourself.” Stubborn man. No one was going to accost her this close to home. With a few quick strides, she was at the entrance of the townhouse.
Silverman swung the door open just as her foot landed on the last step. “His lordship is awaiting you in his study.”
Grace must have misheard. Her papa should be abed at this hour. She nodded, slipped off her gloves, and gave them, along with her wrap and reticle, to the butler. “I assume he intends to lecture me on having left Aunt Emily to fend for herself at Redburn’s.”
“I’ve not a clue what his lordship intends, but your aunt did pay a visit earlier, my lady.” Silverman raised his lit candle and led her down the hall.
She could hear her papa’s grumblings from the hallway. He was definitely not in a pleasant mood. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the surprisingly warm room.
Her papa stood by the mantel of the blazing fire. “Ah, there you are, Gracie girl. Come join me by the fire.”
The intensity of his gaze and tone made her feel like she was eight years of age again and he had found her reading the paper instead of doing needlepoint. She took her time arranging her skirts that had somehow become twisted like the knots in her stomach.
“Where did you venture off to this eve?” Her papa drummed his fingers on the wood mantel.
What was she to say? That she left because of boredom and had tired of waiting for her faux fiancé to appear? Or because she had an inkling Matthew was in trouble again? Neither seemed a sound enough reason to leave the ball in haste. Grace crossed and uncrossed her legs at the ankles.
The tapping stopped. “Love is confusing. It’s illogical, volatile, and painful all the while, it makes one believe they are at the heights of existence, and no matters seem impossible.” He moved to sit in the chair next to her. “I’ve found over time emotions like love can cause one to believe they are acting in the best interest of others but to the detriment of oneself.”
Grace was tired, and the constant pounding in her head made it even more challenging for her to follow the direction of the conversation. “Papa, I don’t understand your meaning.”
“You and Harrington fell in love and from the beginning were in sync with one another.”
Grace stared at her papa. His statement couldn’t have been further from the truth. Yes, they each claimed to love the other, but they were hardly in agreement from the start. Matthew wanted to marry right away. She wanted to wait. If they had been in accord, he would never have left, or she would have at least understood why he had chosen to venture to the Continent.
Grace said, “I believe his actions prove otherwise.”
Her papa shook his head. “Gracie, you are a good girl. Always following the rules, even the ones others often ignore. You care deeply for others and are extremely loyal. Are you sure you want to marry Harrington? You’re not marrying him because I expressed my wish for it to be so or for other reasons I’d rather not discuss?”
It didn’t surprise Grace that her papa was aware and didn’t want to discuss the matter of her maidenhood, but what did come as a shock was him questioning her love for Matthew. Of course, she wanted to marry Matthew. She had gone to extreme lengths to ensure his safe return. Yet hadn’t she done the same for Blake during the war? Squeezing her eyes tight, she tried to reorganize her muddled thoughts. Focus on the facts, and the rest will sort itself out. The motto she had lived by for years. On a shallow breath, Grace said, “Matthew proposed this eve, and I agreed. We are to be wed tomorrow. Assuming Tobias comes through on his promise.”
“Why did you say yes?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Why did you agree to marry Harrington? All the recent reports I’ve received state he has returned a different man.”
“Aye. Matthew is not the same, and I’d not expected him to be. After the harrowing events he experienced, how could it not have affected him? Was it not you who told me life occurrences influence how one makes future choices but do not alter one’s soul? Matthew is fundamentally the same man to me. It may take years or the remainder of our lives for him to be rid of his nightmares and insecurities that were born from his captivity, but I want to be the woman next to him—the one to be there for him.”
“Ahh… I understand. You are a replica of your mama.” He rose and banked the fire. “It’s growing late. We both need rest.” He assisted Grace to her feet and escorted her out to the hall where a droopy-eyed Silverman was waiting. As they followed the butler, her papa said, “Have Cook prepare a light affair in the morn and let’s partake in an early-morning stroll. I’d like to be of sound mind for your wedding.”
He was slightly out of breath as they approached his door. Before he left Grace, he said, “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, Papa. I’ll remember.”
At a slower pace, Grace followed Silverman down the corridor to her chamber. Fully aware she was about to break several conventions, she said, “I know you have an opinion on tomorrow’s events, and the walls are not so thick you didn’t hear of my papa’s concerns. Do you think I’m making the wrong decision in marrying Lord Harrington?”
Silverman’s gaze shifted from left to right and back again. When she thought he’d not answer, the butler cleared his throat. “I’ve been in your family’s employ since you were but a babe. I agree with his lordship. You tend to think of what matters to others first and especially so when Lord Harrington is involved. Be selfish for once and do as you wish.”
“Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the matter.”
Grace entered her dark room and leaned back against the door. Her maid was asleep in the chair next to her bed. Remaining quiet, she rolled the back of her head against the solid wood and let her mind roam.
Her papa was a wise man, but her inability to share and display her emotions was the real cause of his concern. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Matthew; it was that she was reluctant to act upon it in front of others. She used her sham engagement as an excuse not to share her true feelings, even with Matthew. He’d always been able to interrupt her actions and translate them into words that she found difficult to form.
Her shoulders slouched forward as a deep ache formed in the center of her chest. She had assumed Matthew would again simply know how much she cared for him, but how could he? They had rarely spent any time together alone for her to show him the depths of her love, and she certainly hadn’t spoken of it when they had a chance to be in each other’s company. Eyes closed, she slowly slumped to the ground, and curled her knees to her chest.
A hand brushed over her bent head. Tilman softly said, “My lady, let me help you to bed.”
How long had she sat upon the floor? The ache in her chest remained, but she no longer felt tired. “No, I must seek out Lord Ellingsworth. I need his help.”
“It’s late, and there are but a few more hours before we must start to prepare for the wedding. I’ll assist in getting a message to him. What is it that you need?”
The tone Tilman used was one Grace had never heard before. Searching her maid’s eyes, there was a clarity to them that told Grace the woman considered the matter serious and would not fail her.
“I need Lord Ellingsworth to know that, while Matthew would never intentionally fail to deliver upon his promise, ceasing his inquiries into PORFs is impossible. No. The message needs to be less wordy.”
Tilman let out a laugh and assisted Grace to stand. “Not to worry. All will be as it should be, my lady. The network and Lady Theo have already begun working on setting matters straight.”
“Theo? The network?” Grace asked as her maid turned her about by the shoulders and undressed her. After her stays were loosed and removed, she asked, “How do you—”
Tilman pulled her chemise up over her head, cutting off the rest of her question. “You and Lord Harrington have been meddling for years. I was assigned to monitor your progress.”
“Assigned by whom?”
Slipping a nightgown over Grace’s head, her maid started removing hairpins and popped them in her apron.
Grace tried again, “Whose orders do you heed?”
“Yours, my lady.” Tilman picked up her evening gown and retreated to the changing chamber where Grace’s wardrobe was housed along with a cot that her maid occasionally made use of.
When Tilman failed to reappear, Grace climbed into bed. She would have to trust her friend. Theo would, as Tilman had phrased it, set matters straight.