Page 65 of The Trouble with a Dare

Grace watched him walk away, back to the gap in the new hedge where he must have come through. She sat down heavily on the bench, astonished her legs had held her up for so long. Her breath came in quick gasps as she allowed the panic that she’d held back on seeing him to surface in a rush of emotion. She cried and cried, a great storm of sobbing that was over as quickly as it had begun. After a little while she felt better, calmer, and turned to Betty, who had woken and was gazing with rapt attention at the branches of the apple tree over her head.

“It’s going to be fine,” Grace said, as much for her own benefit as for Betty’s, for she must tell Sterling what had happened, and she did not know how he was going to take it. “It’s going to be perfectly fine.”

Chapter 21

Bainbridge,

If you want to talk about my beer, get off your aristocratic arse and come here. I’m busy.

Oak

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Sterling Oak to The Most Hon’ble, Lawrence Grenville, The Marquess of Bainbridge.

2nd of April 1840, Thistley House Farm, Sussex.

Sterling forced himself to eat his lunch, though he tasted nothing, trying his best to act as normal. Grace was quiet and picked at her food and, despite everything he’d said to his mother about his faith in his wife, something cold and fearful slid beneath his skin, as insidious as poison in his veins. He made himself ignore it. She didn’t want that man; she wanted him, and so she would tell him what had happened, he assured himself. Grace would tell him everything. He believed that. Yet the meal dragged on, and she barely spoke a word.

“Is anything the matter, love?”

“What?”

She looked up as if she’d only just realised he was there. Panic thrilled down his spine.

“Oh. No. Nothing.”

“Where’s Betty?”

“With her grandmother,” she said, and then sent him a shy smile. “You did say.”

He nodded, wondering how the hell he was supposed to make love to his wife now. Christ. Months and months of longing and thwarted desire, and now that bloody bastard had come between them. No. No. He was determined nothing should spoil the unfettered happiness he’d been living in just hours earlier. It seemed like a dream at present, too wonderful to be real, and far, far out of reach. He felt sick.

Sterling got to his feet and walked the length of the table, offering her his hand. She took it and his heart jolted at the feel of her slender fingers in his. You belong to me, his heart sang, and he held on tight.

“Come on then, time for our nap,” he said, winking at her and trying his best to appear lighthearted and as full of anticipation as he had that morning. Had it only been hours ago? He felt as if he’d endured a lifetime of uncertainty in the interim.

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes full of clouds, turbulent and unsettled, but she rose to her feet and followed him up the stairs. Once they reached their bedroom, she moved to her side of the bed, facing the window that looked out upon her garden, and sat down on the mattress.

Sterling swallowed. He couldn’t do this. Not when she was so obviously somewhere else. He needed her with him, needed her in this moment so badly that he felt close to tears. He cursed inwardly; he shouldn’t be such a damned baby. She’d experienced a shock, that was all. She’d be fine in a bit.

“Grace,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from betraying his uncertainty. “If you need more time, we don’t have to—”

“I need to tell you something,” she blurted, turning on the mattress to look at him.

His heart pounded and he squashed the sudden childish desire to run away so he didn’t have to hear whatever she said. What if she’d didn’t want him? What if…?

“He came to see me.”

Just breathe, he told himself. You can do this. She needs you to do this.

“Who?” he asked, though the effort of forcing out that one word was considerable.

“Betty’s—” Her mouth tightened.

“Her father,” he said, his voice flat.

“No.” Grace shook her head fiercely. “No. You are her father, but… but that man, he came. I told him to go, that we didn’t want or need him. He promised he would, that he’d not make trouble, that he’d hold his tongue. I sent him away, Sterling.”

Sterling let out a breath and sat down heavily on the mattress before his knees gave out with relief. Christ. Oh, thank Christ.