Grace (37 page)

Trevor’s eyes scanned the room in clear delight. “I am it,” he informed Gareth gleefully, then set off across the ballroom in search of his irrepressible countess.

Gareth watched him go and shook his head. Marriage, from what he had seen, had a very real tendency to make
fools out of perfectly logical men. He caught sight of the Duke of Blackthorne engaged in reluctant conversation with a very nervous-looking young lady. Mercy Ackerly stood off to the side and watched, scowling. He decided to join them. Sebastian, he knew, wholeheartedly shared his opinion on the subject of marriage.

Three hours later, Trevor’s amusement had nearly vanished. He’d had no idea—because he had never had cause to consider such a thought—how many places one could find to hide in a crowded ballroom. More than once, certain he had caught Grace, he’d found himself in possession of one of her laughing sisters, whose help in the game Grace had obviously enlisted.

For the first half hour she kept him busy by dispatching servants to his side, ostensibly to inquire about the various fictitious needs of some of the guests. He’d finally caught on when he glimpsed Grace speaking to a footman across the room, then pointing in his direction. Trevor caught his wife’s eye and glowered good-naturedly at her, then dispatched the footman to have his problems solved by the capable Wilson. When he looked up again, Grace had vanished. Trevor found Wilson himself, and instructed him to order all the servants to ignore the countess’s attempts at diversion. To Wilson’s credit, the man’s expression did not change at the odd command, though the corners of his mouth twitched once or twice. Trevor decided to pretend he hadn’t seen.

Next, Grace resorted to using their friends and family to intercept and hold his attention, a new relation appearing each time he concluded a conversation and renewed his attempt to search for her. Trevor did not find much success in fending off these interlopers. Short of being rude, he simply could not walk away in the middle of someone else’s speech. After yet another hour passed, he realized
that most of the room’s occupants now knew exactly what Grace was up to. Worse, they knew she was besting him.

Trevor changed his strategy. Each time one of Grace’s saboteurs waylaid him, he launched into conversation on whatever boring subject occurred to him, making the intruder positively yearn to be away from him. This time
his
unsuspecting audience found themselves held captive. Whenever somebody tried to make an excuse to leave, Trevor would address that person directly, thus making it impossible for them to leave without appearing rude themselves. After another thirty minutes passed, word got around to avoid the groom at all costs. Trevor finally found himself blessedly free of their restrictive company.

However, the game was old. Taking his bride to bed now loomed foremost in his mind, but he had no idea where she had taken it into her pretty little head to hide. He knew she had not left the ballroom. Grace would never shirk the responsibility of attending to their guests, but exactly
where
she performed that duty was a mystery. So he decided not to look for her at all. He simply walked to the outer edge of the dance floor, glanced once around the room, then stepped around a column and disappeared.

Until that very moment, Grace’s plan to evade Trevor had worked. She had kept him in sight, knowing his exact location at all times. But momentarily distracted by a distant cousin of Trevor’s who commented on her gown, she looked away. When she looked back again, he had vanished. And for the first time all evening, Grace knew her husband had the upper hand. A delicious thrill coursed through her. With the knowledge that he likely now knew
her
precise location, she began looking for him, beginning with the place she had seen him last.

Trevor watched from his vantage point behind the pillar, waiting patiently as she approached. When she drew even
with the column, he slipped quietly around it and came up behind her.

The hairs on the back of Grace’s neck prickled. She whirled and found herself swept, helplessly laughing, into his arms. “Got you!” Trevor declared triumphantly. He turned and strode purposefully toward the ballroom steps, holding Grace firmly in his arms so that she would not escape again.

He nudged his way through the crowd, excusing himself as he went, to the great entertainment of everyone they passed. When he reached the wide, shallow steps, he took them two at time, then turned at the top to face the amused crowd. As the music came to a discordant halt and the whispering died down, he spoke.

“Grace and I would like to thank you for being our guests tonight. Please feel free to stay as long as you wish and enjoy yourselves.” He smiled down at his wife, who beamed back at him happily, then looked again into the ballroom. “We do hope, however, that you will excuse us. Say, ‘Good night, everybody,’ ” he told Grace.

“Good night, everybody!” She waved obediently; then Trevor turned and they left, amid laughter, applause, and shouts of encouragement.

M
y goodness,” said Grace with a breathless laugh as her husband carried her effortlessly down the corridor to the suite that housed the connecting chambers of the Earl and Countess of Huntwick. “Our guests seemed almost happy to see us go.”

Trevor raised sardonic brows. “I believe they may have expected us to go sooner.”

“They did? But it’s early yet.” Grace wrinkled her brow in momentary confusion as she thought of the normally late hours the ton kept when in town, then shrugged happily. She nuzzled her face into Trevor’s neck.

He considered the fact that she had been raised, motherless, by an elder sister who remained a spinster, and realized Grace might not have the best grasp on the concept of a wedding night and all it entailed. At the thought of her innocence, tenderness washed through him, and when they reached the door that opened into her chamber, Trevor easily hoisted her slight weight over to one arm and opened the double doors with a flourish. He carried her inside and gently set her down on her feet.

She looked around in wonder at the spacious, elegant room, unable to believe that it actually belonged to her simply because she had married this wonderful man. She
turned shining eyes on her husband. “It’s beautiful, my lord,” she murmured.

Acres of pale green Aubusson carpeting covered the floor, making Grace long to kick off her slippers and peel down her stockings, just so she could curl her toes deep into the velvety pile. She ran her fingers across the marble-topped vanity table to her right. Skirted in a sumptuous mint-and-pale-peach stripe, the fabric matched the draperies at the high windows and the coverlet on the large bed that stood in the center of the room. With a little laugh, she ran across the room and leaped onto the bed, rolling across linens fashioned of the softest silk, edged with scalloped cutwork lace.

Suddenly she remembered she was not alone in the lovely room. She flushed as she sat up and looked shyly at her widely grinning husband. Somewhat abashed at her childish behavior, she wriggled off the enormous bed, then turned to smooth the rumpled covers, allowing her cheeks a moment to cool in the process. She faced him when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“I take it you like your chamber, my lady?”

Impulsively, Grace stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck. “I shall never wish to leave this room,” she declared with a laugh.

“Oh, but you must, my love,” Trevor said gravely, inclining his head to the right. “That door over there connects this chamber with mine. I’m afraid I’d get rather lonely in there without you.” He moved closer and lifted her chin with his finger, looking down at her in a way that made her heart race. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked. The words were a whisper against her lips, his tone confiding. Grace nodded gravely.

A light came into his eyes. “I’m rather frightened of the dark.”

A sudden image of her large, powerful husband peeping from beneath his covers popped into Grace’s head. Stifling a giggle, she looked up at him with mock sympathy, and laid a hand on his cheek. “What is it that scares you, my lord?” Her voice quavered with amusement.

He pulled her closer still, and slowly ran the tip of his tongue along the crease between her lips. As her knees turned to liquid, he murmured, “Monsters.”

“My goodness,” Grace said, pulling back. “Monsters!” She opened her eyes wide in feigned shock.

He nodded. “Great, big, furry ones. With claws.”

Grace ran a finger down his jawline to softly tap his lower lip. “And where do these horrid monsters stay when it isn’t dark?”

Trevor drew his head back and gave her a look that plainly said she had insulted his intelligence. “Why, under the bed, of course!”

She nodded sagely. “Of course,” she returned, with such a grave look that Trevor gave in. With a shout of laughter, he scooped her up under her arms and lifted her over his head, spinning her around and around until she breathlessly begged him to put her down.

A small sound near the door made them both stop laughing and look around. Trevor set Grace lightly back on her feet. Becky had come quietly into the room to help prepare Grace for bed. The plump maid curtsied, still a bit self-conscious around the earl, not yet used to her new station.

Trevor took a reluctant step away from Grace, then turned and walked across the room to the connecting door.“After you’ve dressed for bed, my lady, would you care to join me for a drink in my chamber?” She nodded hesitantly; he opened the door and went into the room beyond.

Grace turned toward Becky with a helpless smile. “Well,” she said, her stomach beginning to feel strangely jumpy. “I suppose those are for me.” She indicated the frothy nightgown and dressing gown laid across a large, overstuffed chair in the near corner.

She had been looking forward to this night, but after she changed into the new clothing, Grace became certain that some sort of horrible mistake had occurred. The gown that Becky helped her into was positively transparent, and the matching robe didn’t do much to help. She recalled the night he had come to her chamber after she was ill. With a sudden rush of clarity, she realized that the reason the gown was so filmy was that it was a nearly unnecessary garment. Suddenly nervous, she sat stiff and silent at the dressing table, unable even to gossip pleasantly as she usually did while Becky finished brushing her hair. She did not even notice at first when the maid set the brush down and left the room.

With clarity came logic. Trevor had undressed her that night. It stood to reason he intended to do so again tonight. This time, she was not yet passion-drugged and senseless. Tonight, she would participate willingly. The thought gave her a tiny thrill—until she allowed her thoughts to follow a natural progression. Her eyes widened in the mirror. If she were going to be undressed and in her husband’s bed, wouldn’t he also be unclothed? Her mind skittered away from
that
certainty.

After several moments passed, Grace stood. She wiped her damp palms on the sides of her gown and stared with growing trepidation at the door across the room, wishing fervently for her much more serviceable dressing gown, already packed for tomorrow’s early morning trip to the Willows. But she took a deep breath, resolutely squared her shoulders, and marched across the room to knock firmly on the connecting door.

At her husband’s pleasant, “Come in, my lady,” she opened the door, slipped inside, and quickly closed it behind her, pressing her back against it and clutching the doorknob as though it were her lifeline to safety. She looked slowly around the room. Trevor stood near the fire-place on the other side, reaching up to replace a book he had obviously read to pass the time as he waited for her to appear. To her immediate right stood a table upon which a candle burned. Without thinking, Grace leaned over and blew the candle out. She glanced at Trevor to gauge his reaction and found him facing her. At his questioning look, she nervously stammered, “T-too much light sometimes hurts my eyes, my lord.”

Trevor looked steadily at his wife, registering the expression on her face. He revised his earlier assessment of her frank attitude toward their wedding night. He began walking toward her, then stopped when he heard her gasp. He followed the direction of her stricken gaze and looked down at himself. He wore his favorite dark blue satin dressing gown trimmed in midnight velvet. Belted loosely at the waist, it showed a good amount of the crisp, curly black hair that covered his upper chest. He watched her flush a deep red and avert her eyes in embarrassment. He sighed with resignation. He would need to go slowly.

“Grace,” he said softly.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, blushed deeper still, and looked away again.

“Look at my face, love, only my face, just as I am looking at yours.”

Hesitantly Grace did as instructed. Trevor looked at her with gentle understanding in his dark green eyes, a look that reassured her nearly as much as his next words. “You are my wife. There is no need, now or ever, for us to have secrets from each other.” He moved closer, took her hand and led her across the room, dousing candles as he went,
until only the crackling fire and the two candles beside the bed illuminated the room.