Page 33 of The Trouble with a Dare

He’d not had the heart to replace anything since then. For one, his mother always sneered and made derisive comments if he spent money on anything she deemed frivolous, and he feared what he might do or say if she provoked him too badly. So, shopping was a novel experience, and one he had assumed he might find tedious from hearing other fellows bemoan the need to shop with wives or sweethearts. To his delight, it was not the least bit tedious and took on an entirely new aspect with his beautiful wife on his arm.

For one, the sense of pride having her beside him engendered as the shopkeepers fell over themselves to please her was most agreeable. For another, there seemed to Sterling no greater happiness than pleasing her himself, in seeing that pretty blush colour her cheeks or the smile dawn on her face that seemed to have the power to stop his heart. It became quickly apparent that she had a good eye for quality, and for a bargain, and was not inclined to be spendthrift. Still, they were newlywed, and it delighted him to spoil her, their purchases growing as they made their way about the shops.

First, they ordered an elegant walnut dressing table and mirror, which had a pretty pattern in wooden inlay, two little jewellery drawers with brass handles, and two larger drawers for gloves and stockings. It came with a matching chair, and Sterling felt a rush of anticipation as Grace sat before the dressing table to try it for size. He imagined watching her sit there at night, brushing out her long blonde hair as she readied herself for bed. The image so enchanted him the shopkeeper had to ask him three times if he wished to purchase it before he snapped out of his reverie. Once he had paid and arranged for the items to be delivered to Thistley House, they carried on their stroll around the shops, pausing before an art dealer’s window to study the paintings. A little watercolour caught Sterling’s eye, and he smiled as it brought back a memory.

“You like that one?” Grace asked.

He turned to see her watching him intently. Sterling looked back at the painting and nodded. It showed a boy of perhaps seven, carrying a laden basket through the fields. In the distance, just visible, a man worked at mending fences. “I do. It reminds me of my father. I used to take his lunch to him, and it was a weighty basket when I was a lad. Scrawny thing I was then, all skin and bone.”

Grace looked delighted by this information. “Then I will buy it. It will be my wedding gift to you.”

“No, Grace,” he objected, and then faltered as he saw the pleasure in her eyes dim.

“But you agreed with my father I should have my own money,” she said, and he heard the anxiety in her voice and cursed himself.

“Of course, and you must spend it however you wish, only… only I did not mean that you should spend it on me.”

Her expression relaxed, and she put her hand on his arm. “I wish to give you a gift to mark the beginning of our marriage, and I think this painting brings you pleasure. It is a very fine piece of work and will look well over the mantel in the dining room. I think you will enjoy seeing it there, for it reminds you of happy times with your father, does it not?”

“It does,” he agreed.

She bestowed that dazzling smile upon him again, and he wondered dizzily if he would ever grow used to it. If not, she’d be able to wrap him about her thumb in no time. He supposed he ought to be concerned about that but couldn’t find the will to care. He was too happy, enjoying this rare day of leisure far too much to worry about anything at all.

He opened the door to the establishment for her and watched with amusement as she dealt with the dealer, negotiating a far better price than he might have dared try for. The art dealer did not stand a chance under the onslaught of those wide grey eyes and her soft voice. He was so much putty in her hands and looked just as dazed as Sterling had felt which was reassuring. Whilst Grace completed her purchase and gave instructions for delivery, he looked about the gallery and found himself staring at a large portrait of a handsome woman dressed in the fashion of the last century.

“She’s rather beautiful.”

Sterling turned as Grace tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm. Without thinking about it, he covered her hand with his.

“Not in your company, she’s not,” he said honestly. “But then I cannot see anything else when you are near. You bring colour into my world.”

Her eyes widened at the compliment and Sterling felt at once a little wary, for he had spoken without thinking, which he rarely did, and the words exposed his heart, which he had been careful to guard until now. Yet he met her gaze, allowing her to see into that vulnerable place, to understand that he had dared to hope this was the beginning of something rare and lovely. He did not realise he had been holding his breath until she reached up and tugged at his lapel, forcing him to bend. Her lips were warm and soft against his cheek and the kiss lingered long after she let him go. It felt like a promise.

They ate a splendid lunch at the Duke of York in a private parlour. A large ham and a roast chicken were accompanied by fresh peas and fried artichokes and followed by damson tarts and a decadently creamy cheesecake. Grace talked as they ate, and Sterling listened with a dreamlike sense of happiness, finding she was easy to talk to, and did not mind when he fell quiet to think about what he wished to say. She was interesting and witty and funnier than he had expected. Grace seemed vastly interested in everything about him, which he found hard to believe, but she looked at him with such sincere approval he found no trace of flattery or falsity in her.

“Well, Mrs Oak, what do you wish to do next?” he asked, watching as she scraped the last traces of the cheesecake from her bowl.

“I believe you may need to roll me home like a barrel of beer after that lunch,” she said with a contented sigh, and then smoothed a hand over her gently rounded belly in consternation. “I’m getting fat,” she observed.

A pained look flashed in her eyes for a moment before she glanced away from him. It was so brief he might have missed it if he’d not been paying close attention.

Sterling hesitated, and then reached out and took her hand, twining their fingers together.

He felt something had changed, that something had come between them, damaging the fragile intimacy they had woven together since that morning. It pained him to acknowledge it and he determined to repair whatever had spoiled her mood.

“You’re beautiful, and not the least bit fat. There’s nothing of you, little wren, and you’re keeping our child warm, remember. Can’t do that if you’re all skin and bone, now can you?”

She gave a quiet sob, barely audible and yet so anguished it tore at his heart.

“Grace?”

Grace shook her head, keeping her face averted.

“Love, don’t turn away from me. Is it me? Have I—”

“No!” she exclaimed; with such force he was taken aback. “No, you… you have been quite wonderful, b-better than I deserve, and I wish… I wish s-so much....”

She was struggling to keep her composure, but Sterling understood now what had intruded on their day and determined to put it to rest, once and for all.