Page 33 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

But he took her hand in his and was already leading her to the door. She didn’t protest, letting him pull her along. Once they were outside in the fresh air, he kept walking, as if he had forgotten all about the coach. There was a garden in a square across the cobbled street, and he headed for that, needing to clear his mind. His brain felt as foggy as a winter’s morning at Bonnyrigg, and he needed to push that fog away so that he could see what was behind it.

Rory had never been the type of man who vacillated. He usually made up his mind about a thing and then did it, even if his decisions often consisted of the easiest and least troublesome option. Life was to be lived, he had told himself, and thinking too much wasn’t good for him. And yet here he was, thinking, and he really wasn’t enjoying it.

“Rory?” Grace stumbled, so he slowed his pace. “Rory, where are we going?”

By now they were inside the square, walking on the green grass with the trees and the birds all about them. He took a deep breath. He missed this. He missed the Bonnyrigg estate where he could ride and walk and be himself.

Rory found a bench to sit on. Grace plumped down beside him with a puff of breath and then proceeded to smooth down her skirts and retie the ribbons on her bonnet. She was like a cross little hen adjusting her feathers, and he found himself smiling. Suddenly, his mood improved.

“I apologize,” he said.

She shot him a puzzled and irritated look. “Why did you bring me here if you were going to change your mind?” she demanded. “I don’t understand.”

What could he say? She was right, though, he had changed his mind. “I changed my mind because I realized I didn’t want you to leave. I want you to stay with me at Aunt Jennie’s.”

She looked down, her long dark lashes sweeping her cheeks. He admired her clear complexion and the downward curve of her lips. It would be nice to kiss her but—he glanced about and realized they were not alone—not in public, perhaps. There was enough scandal circling them without adding to it.

“You confuse me, Rory,” she said quietly. “You did not want to marry me, and then you did. You didn’t want our marriage to be a legal one, until I convinced you it was a good idea. Now you want me to stay with you at your aunt’s house in Mayfair. For how long? Will you change your mind again? Perhaps you are one of those people who takes up a new project every week, and sets aside the last one to gather dust. Is that what will happen to me? Will I soon be gathering dust?”

He laughed uneasily at the image she presented. “No, Grace, you willna be gathering dust. I have decided I like your company, and you know I want to help you to cast off your scandalous reputation. What is wrong with that? You should be pleased by it.”

She let her gaze rest on him as if considering his words. “There is nothing wrong with that,” she said at last, a faint flush in her cheeks. “I just . . . I worry you will grow tired of whatever role you now see yourself in. Perhaps I would be better off in that little house over there,” she waved her hand vaguely in the right direction. “At least then I would know I have a roof over my head.”

He should be angry with her lack of faith in him, but he wasn’t. He understood why she felt the way she did. Grace had never had a stable life, and she was rightly suspicious of his change of heart. He would just have to convince her with actions rather than words that he was genuine in his desire to help. Because that was what this was about, wasn’t it? His desire to help?

Abruptly, Rory stood up. “Shall we go home?” he said, holding out his hand.

She looked up at him and then gave a brief nod, and together they walked back to the coach. She turned her head as they drove away to look again at the little house, but Rory ignored her and told himself he knew best.

*

Grace didn’t know how to feel or what to think.

This morning when Rory had disclosed what his “surprise” was and whisked her off in the coach to see this house he had chosen for her, she had been pleased and sad, both at the same time. She wanted to be settled and safe, and this seemed like a step forward, but she was also enjoying living with Jennie and being Rory’s wife. Even though she knew the wife part would have to end, she had half thought Rory might allow her to continue her dream for a little longer.

And then, while she was trying to convince herself that the house was perfect—yes, a little small, but she wouldn’t be able to afford servants—he had rushed her off, saying he had changed his mind!

Her head was spinning.

And yet there was a warm sensation in her chest, like a small warm nest of coals, that was rejoicing in the fact that he did not want her to go just yet. Even though it was only putting off the inevitable, surely?

That evening, Rory did not go out after supper—it seemed to be becoming a rare event when he did go out alone—and joined Grace and Jennie in the drawing room with tea and chatter, it felt as if this was now the norm. He sat in the chair opposite and sipped his whisky and chuckled when Jennie told him she had had some comments about his morning rides in the park.

“Complaints rather than comments,” Jennie said. “I went for an afternoon visit with one of my acquaintances, and she told me she had heard that a wild man was riding in the park to the detriment of others. I knew at once it was you, Rory.”

“I am sorry,” he said, although clearly he wasn’t. “I will try to be more of a gentleman. ’Tis just that I am used to riding as fast and far as I please.”

“I know,” Jennie said sympathetically, “but you are in London now. I was thinking that perhaps you can take Grace in the carriage tomorrow? You know that the more often you are seen together, the more people will believe you are truly happily and respectably married.”

Rory looked at Grace. He will probably say no, she told herself, so don’t get your hopes up . . .

“That sounds like a grand idea,” he said, finishing off his drink. “Let’s show them how very respectable we are, eh, wife?”

Jennie made a sound of surprise which she quickly stifled. “Well, I like the sound of that,” she said.

Grace nodded and agreed. “We will show them all that you are not Wildman and I am not Disgrace,” she said with a wry smile. “At least, we will try.”

After Rory had left them, yawning and saying he was going to bed, Jennie took Grace’s hand in hers. Her grey eyes were bright with excitement, but she was obviously trying to rein it in.