Page 42 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

“I do,” he said stoically. “And I won’t change my mind.”

And he wouldn’t. He understood that his life would never be the same again, and beneath the doubt and turmoil of his recently confused thoughts, Rory had a new sense of certainty. A sense that after all these years of restless and ramshackle behavior, he had finally found a life that mattered. A life that he may have been searching for all along.

*

A week later, Rory looked at Grace as she sat at the breakfast table, her eyes shadowed and half asleep. One of her sisters had been up in the night crying out after a nightmare, and it was Grace who had comforted her and stayed with her. Rory frowned. It was time he took a hand in the matter or his wife would wear herself to a frazzle.

Besides, he missed her. They had not been together in a physical sense since before the sisters arrived, and no doubt it was selfish of him, but he wanted her. Most mornings he rode with Kilsyth, and the older man listened patiently to his complaints and then informed him that he must find some way to give his wife the respite she needed.

“Women have a tendency to put themselves last,” he said. “Show her you miss her. Indulge her. Remind her that she has a husband as well as her sisters, and he needs her too.”

Rory wanted to protest but he stopped himself. Kilsyth was right. If he did not want Grace to drift away from him, he needed to be frank with her. It was just that admitting he missed her was something he was struggling to come to terms with himself.

And now here was Grace, half asleep over her breakfast. Aunt Jennie shot him a look of consternation, but before she could say anything, Rory did.

“I think it is time we resumed our efforts to show London society we are not afraid of the gossips.”

Grace blinked up at him. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Whatever do you mean, Rory?” Jennie raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

“Kilsyth mentioned a musical recital at Vauxhall Gardens. We should go.”

“Tonight?” Grace said sharply. “I don’t think I can leave my sisters . . .”

“Of course you can,” Jennie said briskly. “I will be here. You must go about in society, Grace, if you want to be of use to your sisters in the future. You cannot hide away and never venture out, can you? I think you should take up your husband’s suggestion.”

Grace turned and looked at Rory. He raised his eyebrows in the same manner as his aunt. She sighed. “You’re right,” she said unenthusiastically. “We must continue to pretend I am your respectable wife.”

“Wear one of your new dresses,” Jennie went on. “I know just the one. I’m sure your sisters will enjoy helping you get ready. But right now you should have a nap, Grace.”

Grace looked as if she might protest again, but she must have realized Jennie was right. She rose to her feet. “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “I do not know what I would do without your kindness.” She looked from Jennie to Rory and there were tears in her eyes.

When the door closed behind her, Rory sighed. “Perhaps I should have taken that wretched house after all,” he muttered.

But Jennie shook her head. “No. She cannot hide them all away forever, and she would regret it if she did. She will enjoy this outing, and so will you.” Her grey eyes twinkled. “Show her that life does not have to be all responsibility and no fun, Rory. You are good at fun, or you used to be. Although these days you are looking rather glum!”

Rory grunted, but he knew it was true.

Time to cheer himself up with some flirtation.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jennie had invited the daughters of one of her friends to stay, and the four girls were now deep in discussion over some fashion drawings. It was never too early, Jennie said, to learn about the importance of appearance.

Harriet and Prudence looked up at Grace with smiles and eagerly shared their ideas on the new dresses they would need—Ormsby being so stingy. Grace wanted to remind them that money was in short supply but didn’t have the heart to ruin their excitement. There had not been much to look forward to recently.

Jennie took her arm in hers. “Let us get you ready for Vauxhall,” she said, “and then you can show the girls.”

There was another new dress laid out on the bed, and this one was plum colored with white lace on the hem and sleeves. The bodice was quite low, but Grace thought she looked rather fine, and although her hair was drawn back in a chignon, curls danced about her face and softened the severe style.

“Isn’t Vauxhall rather bawdy?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Jennie said with a shrug. “But it is a masked ball so no one will know you. Now where is my mask . . .?”

A masked ball? That was the first Grace had heard of that. She had never been to a masked anything.

Jennie reappeared with the item in question, and they tied the ribbons behind Grace’s head. The red velvet mask only covered her face from the nose upward, but it was strange how much of a stranger she suddenly looked.