The Marquess's Imperfect
Bride
Preview
Chapter One
Grace Farraway entered the music room of her family’s home, smiling softly as she stared lovingly at the pianoforte. It was blurry, but she had memorized its appearance, shape and feel since she was a young girl. Besides her younger sister, Anne, her lady’s maid, Juliet Gateley and her dearest friend, Millicent Hughes, the pianoforte was her dearest friend.
Indeed, it might well be her one true love, especially with the turns her life had taken and life-changing circumstances that were outside her control. And truthfully, part of her felt that she could live with that. Between music and her volunteer work at the orphanage, Grace typically felt as though she had a perfectly rounded, fulfilling life.
She gingerly touched the left side of her face and neck, making her way through the familiar room with ease. The comforting softness of tufts of fur against her ankles, which Grace did not need to be able to see right then to know their colour, helped Grace feel steady as she headed for the shiny black bench of her beloved instrument. She took her seat, waiting with a soft giggle for her feline companion to hop up beside her and join her.
True to her loyal, affectionate nature, Lady Whiskers landed on the bench beside Grace with a delicate thump. She rubbed against her mistress, patiently waiting for a gentle rub in the spot where her chest met her belly. Most cats did not like humans touching them on their undercarriages, as to allow access to their bellies was to make themselves vulnerable. But Lady Whiskers, while she loved ear scratches and chin rubs, much preferred to show her stomach for the best rubs in her special, top-of-her-belly spot. At least, with people she trusted.
Grace complied with the white, short-haired cat’s silent request, laughing again as the animal rolled on her side in an exaggerated fashion with her show of affection. The two-year-old cat had been a gift from Grace’s parents one year after a terrible accident. Grace spent a long year recovering and coping, feeling worse and more hopeless with each passing day. But even as an eight-week-old kitten, Lady Whiskers began giving Grace support and comfort, and all the love Grace could have hoped for during such a trying time in her life. It was because of her cat that Grace began to hope again. She was also the reason that Grace began playing music again, even though she had been told that she would never read music again.
After the ritual of pre-music petting was finished, Lady Whiskers jumped softly down from the bench of the pianoforte and curled up just beside Grace’s feet, which were placed expertly on the pedals. With an impeccable memory of the key and note locations on the instrument, Grace placed her hands in the position to play “Sonata in C minor, Hob. XVI/20” by Franz Joseph Haydn.
Grace immediately lost herself in the minor chords of the piece, each note echoing the scars in her soul. Those were the only scars that the world could not see, yet they were the most cumbersome. She found relief from her woes in her charity work, her loyal feline companion and her family. But nothing soothed the flair of her fears, hurt feelings, self-consciousness and shame like expressing those emotions through music.
The notes swept her so far away from her present self that she almost did not hear the music room door creak open. Grace took a deep breath, feeling the person entering rather than seeing them, and she smiled softly.
“Good day, Anne,” she said, not missing a note as she addressed her younger sister.
Anne clasped her hands together with a soft pat sound, and Grace could feel her sister smiling at her.
“Your playing is enchanting as always, Sister,” she gushed, her expression radiating admiration. “May I sit and listen for a little while?”
Grace opened her eyes, looking at her sister. The dimmed vision in her left eye could not make out any more details of Anne than of her vague outline, the light chestnut of her wavy hair and the brightness of her pastel green day dress. She nodded, closing her eyes once more as she gave her sister a doting smile.
“Of course, darling,” she said. “Stay as long as you like.”
She listened as her sister situated herself at the chair just in front of the pianoforte. Then, she slipped into the music once more. However, a moment later, images flashed through her mind, causing her hands to falter on the keys. Her eyes flew open, but she did not see the room around her. What she saw was much worse.
The carriage jolts horribly from one side to the other, causing the world around Grace to spin wildly. She vainly thrusts her hands out above and around her, her fingers seeking purchase in any surface that will allow herself to grab onto something and hold on as tightly as she could. When her hands meet nothing but air, she tries to scream. But her voice, much like her fingers both in the present moment and in her memories, is failing her.
Just as she manages to fill her lungs with air, there is a sharp pain in her left shoulder. She has slammed into the front of the coach, her arm banging against the wood separating her from the driver’s bench. She tries to slap the wooden panel, but her hand is yanked away as her whole body takes flight. The world seems almost to stop as time becomes impossibly slow.
The next sensation Grace feels is an explosion in her head and face. It feels as if something is stabbing out her eyes and ripping off her ear simultaneously, all while setting the left side of her head on fire. The sensations are overwhelming, and darkness begins to cloud her vision. At last, Grace hears screams. But in the seconds before she loses consciousness, she understands that they are not coming from her. They are coming from outside the carriage, as if at the end of a long, empty tunnel. And yet, they ring so sharply in her mind that they leave her paralyzed with fear and anxiety. They fill Grace’s mind so that she can think of nothing else. Except the pain… the excruciating pain throughout her left arm, and the entire left side of her face…
“Sister,” said a muffled, tunnel-echoing voice. “Sister, come back to me.”
It took Grace’s vision a few seconds to refocus and her awareness to return to her. She was no longer in the carriage which had wrecked and left her permanently marred and impaired, both aurally and visually. She was safe in the music room of her childhood home. And the voice, which was clearer now that it had moved to her right side, was that of her beloved sister.
“Grace, darling,” Anne said again, snapping Grace the rest of the way out of the horrid memory of her accident. “Are you well?”
Grace nodded, smiling weakly as the color slowly returned to her face. She reached for her sister’s hand, realizing that her own were trembling. Anne reached to take her hand, but Lady Whiskers jumped up in her lap, rubbing her arm furiously with her head as she always did when Grace succumbed to those bouts of anxiety and panic.
Grace took a few deep breaths, stilling her shaking hands by burying them in the animal’s white fur and concentrating on her sister’s beautiful features.
“I am fine, Sister,” she said. “I just got lost in thought for a moment.”
Anne frowned, her brow furrowing as she gently squeezed herself into the bench beside Grace.
“You were thinking of the accident again, were you not?” she asked softly.
Grace nodded, even though she knew that Anne already knew the answer.
“I was,” she whispered as her throat tightened. “I understand that it has been three years. But sometimes, it feels as though it was only yesterday. Even my face still aches every once in a while, as though the bandages are still in place and the wounds are still seeping.”
Anne put her hands over Grace’s and gave her a sympathetic smile.
“I cannot imagine how horrible it all must have been for you, sweet Sister,” she said. “And I am equally ignorant about how awful it must be to relive such a traumatic incident repeatedly. But I wish for you to understand that my affections for you remain unwavering, regardless of the countless times it occupies your thoughts or the distress it may cause you. You may confide in me your every concern, as often as you require.
Grace sighed and nodded, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder as she tried to hide tears that stung her eyes.
“You are such a wonderful sister,” she said. “I do not know what I would have done through all this without you and Neil.”
Anne shook her head, lifting Grace’s chin and kissing her sweetly on the forehead, just above where the scarring began.
“You are stronger than you know, Sister dear,” she said. “In fact, I do not know of a stronger lady within the ton. Nay… in all of England. I would wager a fair sum of money on that. Neil and I love you, and we would do anything for you, especially to help you during trying times. But I know he would agree with me when I say that there is no doubt that you would have come this far, even if you had had to do it all on your own. You are truly inspirational, sweet Sister. You must never forget that.”
Grace gave her sister another small smile, but her fingers idly made their way up to her face. On the right side, her skin was flawless and pale, with a splash of pink when someone said something kind to her about her outfits or her music. One could see the hazel color with which her eyes had been blessed when she was born; the same color of Anne’s eyes as she looked into them, trying to find her strength once more.
However, the left side of her face told the story of the carriage accident which had left its permanent mark on both her skin and her life. There was a jagged line, which had once been held together with thirteen stitches. Below that was a patch of scarred flesh, where a nasty scrape beneath her left eye had left the area milky and pale after a large splinter was removed from her pupil by the physician. He had removed all the wood and the tiny pebbles embedded in her eye during the accident. But her vision would never return to normal. Nor would her hearing, as her ear drum was ruptured when her left ear hit the side of the carriage and scraped the road as the coach skidded to a stop.
It was no one’s fault. The man who had been driving the carriage that hit hers had suffered an episode with his heart. It was an accident that could not have been avoided. And fortunately, the driver survived his episode, as she heard through her parents a few weeks after it happened. But accident or not, it had left her with the visible reminders of the pain and discomfort she had endured. And those reminders left her with marks that were not so visible. She had endured many challenges since the terrible accident. And she knew that she would continue to do so.
“Thank you for everything, Anne,” she said. Her sister might believe her to be quite strong. But right then, she only wanted the comfort that her sister’s embrace and presence offered her.
***
Gareth Darnall took a deep breath as his carriage stopped. He looked up at the sight of his aunt’s estate with a mixture of relief and dread. His aunt Caroline, the dowager viscountess of Albury, had always been a warm, inspiring presence in his life. However, he knew that she was not the only person who was awaiting his return within the Albury Estate’s walls. His brother and best friend would also be there, eager to hear all about his adventures during his two years abroad. And his parents would be there, as well.
Gareth dragged himself to the door of his aunt’s pale-yellow mansion, drawing what warmth he could from its welcoming exterior. He knocked, despite knowing that his return was anticipated, forcing a smile just as the butler appeared. The tall, bald man opened the door, giving him a warm smile.
“Lord Hayewood,” he said, bowing. “You are expected.”
Gareth nodded, following the man inside. He was not surprised, however, when voices cut through the footsteps as he moved into the foyer.
“My dear nephew,” Caroline said, brushing past James, the butler, in a hurry to reach Gareth. “It is wonderful to see you again.”
Gareth opened his arms just in time for Caroline to rush into them. He held her tightly, smiling at her as she pulled away.
“I am thrilled to see you, Aunt Caroline,” he said. “How are you faring?”
Caroline shook her head, putting her hand on his arm.
“Let us get you inside,” she said.
“Yes, darling,” Emily Darnall said, chilling Gareth instantly, despite his aunt’s warm welcome. “You have arrived just in time for tea. Please, join us in the drawing room.”
Caroline turned to his mother, giving her a patient smile.
“I know we are all thrilled to have Gareth home,” she said. “However, we should allow him a little time to freshen up. His journey has been a long one, and I am certain that he is exhausted.”
The duchess of Darendale shook her head, gripping her son’s arm firmly.
“There will be plenty of time for that later,” she said. “I am eager for Gareth to join us immediately.”
Gareth glanced at his aunt, who nodded regally, despite the flicker of disapproval in her eyes. Gareth got the distinct impression that there was more happening than a sudden delight in Gareth’s return to his family. His aunt was always thrilled to see him, whether it had been days or years. But his mother and father seemed more focused on his future duties and responsibilities as the heir to the dukedom of Darendale. Whatever had his mother in such high spirits, Gareth was sure he would not like any part of it.
Chapter Two
“Gareth,” Thomas Darnall said with a sly grin as Gareth followed his aunt and mother into the drawing room. “Welcome home, dear brother.”
Gareth smirked at his younger brother, momentarily forgetting the sense of foreboding that had just tried to settle around him moments earlier. The youngest son of Lord Darendale perched lazily across a sofa near the fireplace of the spacious, brightly colored drawing room.
A tray of tea and cakes rested beside him, teetering precariously on the edge of the cushion. Yet Thomas lounged as though he had not a single care in the world. Gareth might have frowned upon other men for such an unburdened existence. But he returned the smile as he crossed the room to sit beside his younger brother in a wing-backed, blue-upholstered chair.
“Greetings, Brother,” he said, clapping his brother gently on the back so as not to disturb the tray beside him. “It has been too long. How are you faring?”
Thomas wagged his eyebrows, the mischief in his eyes increasing with a sudden glimmer of wit.
“I am well,” he said. “However, certainly not as well as you surely will be very soon, I suspect.”
Gareth helped himself to the tea, which steamed in the white porcelain pot that sat on the table between another sofa and four more chairs identical to his.
“Oh?” he asked, taking a sip of the hot beverage. “And why might that be?”
Thomas gave him a knowing look and another wicked grin.
“You have been gone for quite some time,” he said. “I believe that there are many eligible young ladies who will be thrilled beyond compare of the news of your return.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. He knew that as the future duke of Darendale, it would be his responsibility to produce an heir to the family legacy. However, it was not something which he was prepared to give serious thought. His father still reigned, after all. He felt no need to rush himself into a union with a woman.
“I am certain they will find other gentlemen with whom to occupy their time,” he said dismissively. He wanted to change the subject before his mother could get any ideas. She was already acting strangely. He did not need her latching onto the notion of him marrying any time soon.
As they all settled into their seats, Ian Darnall entered the room. He was tall and imposing, carrying himself with an affinity for duty. Though his brown-black hair was streaked heavily with silver and his face lined with age, his hazel eyes were as sharp and stern as ever.
The duke was not alone, however. Behind him were three familiar figures. While his family had been a sight for sore eyes, the people accompanying his father were sights to make his eyes sore.
“Gareth, darling,” Lady Agnes Bingham drawled, opening her arms as she approached Gareth. “It is so lovely to see you again.”
Gareth rose and stiffly kissed the countess of Birington’s cheek.
“It is a pleasure,” he said, forcing a polite tone.
Lord Percival Bingham joined his wife and Gareth, bowing slowly with a small smile.
“There is nothing quite like a grand trip overseas for a man, is there?” He asked, clapping Gareth on the shoulder with a bit too much sharpness.
Gareth forced a chuckle and shook his head at the earl.
“Indeed,” he said.
Before he even looked at the third disquieting person, he could feel her gaze on him. Lady Cecilia approached with practiced grace, curtseying as she stood between her parents.
“Greetings, Gareth,” she said. “I am thrilled that you have returned home safely.”
Gareth bowed, ignoring the way she batted the lashes of her brown eyes as she stared at him.
“Hello, Lady Cecilia,” he said, refusing to use her Christian name plainly as she had done. She and her parents had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Agnes was a dear friend to his mother, and Percival was an ambitious earl and a calculating businessman with whom Gareth’s father often partnered.
Yet despite the long history that Gareth and his family had with the Bingham’s, he had never liked them. They were too shallow, more concerned with social status and their fortune to offer anything sincere or not superficial, in Gareth’s opinion. He would never say as much, of course, and he was determined to remain polite. But he glanced at his father with a meaningful gaze, hoping for some indication as to when the unpleasant company might be departing.
When he met the duke’s gaze, he found his father’s eyes flashing with something which made his stomach turn. He had seen that expression on the duke’s face countless times when he was about to make a ruthless business negotiation, one which he knew he would win. The unease continued to grow within Gareth, and he quickly looked away. He decided to open a conversation with his aunt, hoping to dispel some of his discomfort. But before he could, Lady Cecilia spoke again, surprising him with how irritating the sound of her voice was rapidly becoming.
“Now that you are home, I trust that you plan to attend many of this season’s events,” she said.
Gareth tried not to shudder. As future duke, his attendance at social gatherings, especially during their peak in the late spring and summer months, was widely expected. However, there were few which truly held his interest. But it was the way that Lady Cecilia had spoken the words, as if his attendance at upcoming events had already been guaranteed and as if she had a stake in his attendance that made his stomach drop. If his parents thought he was going to spend the season serving as her escort to each ball and dinner party, they were sorely mistaken.
“I am certain that I will attend one or two,” he said casually.
His mother and father both gave him firm looks, causing him to squirm in his seat. There was certainly something happening. And it seemingly had something to do with Lady Cecilia. And even after all his time overseas, he still felt ill prepared for whatever it might be.
“We have accepted invitations to almost every ball on Gareth’s behalf,” the duchess said, giving her son a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am sure that the two of you will be spending a great deal of time at them, as well, my dear Cecilia.”
Gareth pretended not to hear his mother’s words, even as the boulder of dread grew in his stomach. He had known Lady Cecilia and her family for many years. But they had never made him as uncomfortable as he felt right then. Still, he maintained a weak but polite smile. Throughout the rest of tea, he ignored the batting of Lady Cecilia’s eyelashes and the pointed looks from both their mothers. Once he was able, he would slip away to his guest chambers in his aunt’s home. There, he would remain until he felt rested enough to mingle with his family and their friends. Which, he suspected, would not be until a day or two after the members of the Bingham family departed.
As he rose at the conclusion of tea, however, Thomas approached him. He grabbed Gareth’s arm with a gentle but pointed grip. Gareth looked into his brother’s smiling face, noting a glimmer of intensity in the eyes which were so near identical to his own.
“Gareth, Brother, do join me for a walk,” he said. “I would hear all the tales of your trip.” He paused with a dramatic wagging of his eyebrows as he raised his voice just a little. “Especially those which you do not tell in the company of fair ladies.”
Gareth was confused, but he simply nodded, giving his brother a puzzled smile.
“Of course, little brother,” he said. “If it pleases you, we may attend to that matter at this moment.”
Thomas nodded, looking almost relieved as he led Gareth through the painting laden halls of the pale blue and green carpeted townhouse. The men were silent as they headed for the terrace doors, and Gareth tried studying his brother’s face. Thomas always wore a carefree expression, and right then was no exception. But as their eyes met when Thomas opened the door that led into the gardens, his eyes were serious and urgent. Gareth swallowed at the uncharacteristic change in his younger brother. What could possibly make the lighthearted Thomas Darnall so solemn?
Once they were far enough away from the townhouse, Thomas stopped Gareth. They stood just outside the expansive gardens, with Thomas glancing up cautiously at the yellow-draped windows of the townhouse.
“I understand that it is not my place to tell you this,” he said, keeping his voice low despite the solitude of their position outside. “However, I feel I would be doing my beloved brother a disservice if I did not warn you.”
Gareth sighed, nodding.
“What is Mother’s plan?” he asked with a wry smile. “Has she crafted a dance card for me for these balls and dinner parties and filled it without my knowledge?”
Thomas smirked, but his eyes held no amusement.
“I fear it is worse than that, Brother,” he said. “She and Father plan to make a match between Lady Cecilia and you. That is why she and her parents were here waiting with us when you arrived. It has apparently been all but decided. They were simply waiting for you to return so that they could finalize the details. I suppose they could not make such an arrangement official without your signature.”
Gareth heaved another sigh. The thought of marrying a woman like Lady Cecilia made his stomach twist. She was too shallow, too conceited and too empty-headed for him to tolerate for more than a couple of minutes. He had known that his father was eager for him to begin fulfilling the duties that would be his once he was duke. But to sacrifice his ability to find a wife he truly loved, who could serve as an elegant and compassionate duchess at his side and share the duties of the dukedom with grace and poise, was something which he did not think he could bear.
“Wonderful,” he said bitterly.
***
“My darling daughters,” Frederick said, smiling warmly at Anne and Grace as they took their seats at the dinner table. “You look positively ravishing, as always.”
The marchioness nodded in agreement, beaming at her daughters as they settled in.
“And what am I, dear Mother?” their older brother, Neil, asked from the doorway, giving their parents a grandly exaggerated pouting expression.
The women giggled as Neil made a small show of being wounded. As he approached their mother to kiss her cheek, she laughed, shaking her head and giving him a gentle push toward his seat.
“Do not be silly, darling,” she said. “You look absolutely beautiful, as well.”
Grace and Anne burst into laughter at their mother’s jest. Grace had always adored the closeness and humor within her family. And Neil was pleased to maintain the jest. He gave a deep curtsey, pinching the hem of his long brown dinner jacket and batting his eyelashes like a proper lady.
“That is more like it,” he said as he took his seat.
Grace could barely contain her laughter as she put her napkin in her lap. Her brother’s antics had been one bright light in the darkness that was the months following her accident. Besides the protective attitude he had taken with her out in public, the laughter he gave to her during that time had brightened even her darkest moods.
For Grace, that night, the jovial mood was not to last. Everyone settled their laughter as the first course of the meal, fish soup, was served. But before they began to eat, Louisa Farraway tapped her wine glass, smiling brightly at her children.
“I am very excited to announce that we will not be spending our summer in Bath this year,” she said. “Your father and I have been talking at length about it, and we have decided that it is time that we begin hosting our annual house party at Farenley Manor once again.”
Grace’s heart fell into her stomach, suffocating her appetite. Her parents had not hosted their yearly house party since before her accident. She had attended only a few parties hosted by her mother, and fewer still of those that took place at the homes of other noble men and women. The physician had suggested that her parents grant her as much time in Bath as possible, as the healing waters of the lovely place would be of great benefit to her healing journey after the accident. But now, her parents would be inviting the entire ton inside the walls of their home for them to judge and whisper about Grace.
Not wishing to make a fuss, especially after seeing how her brother’s and sister’s faces lit up at the mention of the party, Grace picked up her spoon and dipped it into her soup. Her stomach churned, but she would do her best to keep her family from seeing her anxiety and displeasure at something which clearly made them so happy.
“Grace, darling,” the marquess said with a soft, gentle voice. “I knew you might be worried about such a big event. Three years to us must feel like mere months to you, and we have not forgotten that. However, I want you to know that your mother and I will be there through the entire process to support and protect you.”
Grace looked up into her father’s compassionate eyes. She gave him a smile, feeling only marginally reassured.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, forcing herself to sound more relieved than she truly felt. “I am certain that it will be a lovely affair.”
But as her family continued gushing about the party, Grace could not stop thinking about the stares and whispers she experienced when she did attend social events. It seemed that half the ton pitied her, but not enough to offer her friendship or kind words. And the other half hated her, just enough to make her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome when she found herself in their company. Even women whom she had known since she was a child treated her like a beast with a contagious plague after her accident. How could she ever face those same people with her head held high?
She quietly excused herself, doing her best to keep on her brave face. But once she and Lady Whiskers were safely behind the door to her bedchambers, she chewed her bottom lip fiercely, allowing herself to shudder with the horrific images of the judgmental eyes and sharp tongues that awaited her at the house party. She curled up on her bed, snuggling up to Lady Whiskers, who laid facing her and began kneading her stomach gently in an effort to comfort her.
She could never do anything to jeopardize her family’s happiness or to take away something that once meant the world to all of them. But how could she cope with their home constantly filled with people who would do nothing but make her more afraid and insecure than she already was?
Chapter Three
When Gareth finally joined everyone for breakfast the following morning, as was expected of him, he found everyone else already eating their meal, conversing quietly against the soundtrack of silverware scraping the fine China dishes of which his mother was so proud. The older women greeted him with stiff kisses to the air beside his cheeks, while the men gave him curt nods before returning to their conversation. Lady Cecilia, however, turned on her charm immediately.
“Gareth, good morning,” she said in a crooning drawl almost identical to the one with which her mother had greeted him the day before. “I hope you slept well after your long journey home.”
Gareth gave her a polite smile, avoiding her honeyed gaze.
“I did, thank you,” he said, struggling to find his hospitable tone. “And I trust that your accommodations are to your liking?”
His father gave him a brief nod of approval, which gave Gareth a chill. He had not forgotten what Thomas told him about Lady Cecilia, and he was acutely suspicious.
Lady Cecilia beamed at him and nodded.
“Oh, yes, Gareth,” she said, batting her lashes in the way that made his skin crawl. “My chambers are very lovely, and I am certain that there are none more comfortable in all of London.”
Gareth smiled again tensely, closing his teeth to prevent his next thought from escaping. Do you mean to say that you are well-versed in the chambers of the homes of all the noblemen in London?
His mother cleared her throat, and he glanced up, thinking that the duchess had sensed his tasteless, unspoken thought. But she was not looking at him. Rather, she was exchanging a long, knowing glance with the countess, who could hardly contain a gleeful smile. Gareth briefly studied the women before hurriedly looking away. Whatever was being shared between them disquieted him like the approving look his father had given him. And it did not take him long to figure out why.
“It is a very lovely day,” Lady Cecilia said, very pointedly addressing Gareth. “I was thinking of going for a stroll through the gardens after breakfast.”
There was another shared look between the older women, and Gareth understood. His mother and the countess were continuing their schemes to make a match between Lady Cecilia and him. And it was clear to Gareth that Lady Cecilia believed that such a match was possible, if not a certainty, in her mind.
With every ounce of resolve, Gareth gave the young woman another small smile.
“It is a beautiful day for such an activity,” he said. “It is a shame that I cannot join you on your walk. I am afraid that I have very pressing business matters.”
Lady Cecilia and her mother’s expressions both fell, and Gareth felt a brief moment of satisfaction. He did not mind if he had disappointed them. In fact, he rather hoped that he had. The duchess, however, looked as though she was barely suppressing her anger. She narrowed her eyes at Gareth in such a way that only he could see. She raised her eyebrow, never breaking eye contact with him.
“Surely, you can postpone your business matters until after a nice walk,” she said.
Gareth shook his head, holding his own gaze steady and fighting to keep his calm, unwitting composure.
“I cannot today, Mother,” he said. “I must be ready for the business meetings that I have coming up in the next fortnight. I am afraid that I need every minute I can get to adequately prepare.”
Lady Cecilia nodded, and Gareth thought she might be trying to appear understanding. But to Gareth, she simply looked like a petulant child who had just been scolded for not being in bed by the time her parents’ dinner party started. It might have been amusing if Gareth did not now know the reason why the women seemed so set on ensuring that he spent time with Lady Cecilia. Still, he refused to let on that he knew anything was amiss. He and Thomas had always been very close, and he would feign innocence unremittingly to protect his brother and the fact that Thomas had let him in on their family’s plan to marry him off to Lady Cecilia.
“It is all right,” Lady Cecilia said at last, batting her lashes at him again, as she seemed so fond of doing. “I understand that a man’s business allows him to provide for himself and his family.” She blushed as if she had just let some telling secret slip. “That is to say, his future family. In your case, at least.”
Gareth had to hold his breath to keep from rolling his eyes. Her efforts were so blatant that they would have repelled him even if he had ever taken an interest in her. Still, he kept his calm expression as he gave her a tight smile and curt nod.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said, glancing at his mother to see her nostrils flaring as they often did when she was angry. Gareth looked away, keeping himself occupied with a copy of the newspaper throughout the rest of the meal.
When breakfast finished, Gareth could not wait to lock himself in his study. But he had not even reached the doorway before his father called to him.
“Gareth,” he said. Only Gareth and his family would have noticed the firm, no-nonsense edge as he spoke. “Before you get to your pressing business, I would have a word with you. Meet me in the parlor straightaway.”
Gareth hid a sigh by smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in his jacket. He turned and nodded politely to his father.
“Of course, Father,” he said. “I shall meet you there.”
The duke gave a curt nod just before Gareth exited the room. He knew his father would be waiting in the parlor in about three minutes. And he intended to meet him there in four. Better to be one minute more prepared for the discussion he was sure awaited him. Even if he would never be ready to even entertain what he was sure his father was about to propose.
As expected, the duke was pouring drinks when Gareth reached the parlor. He motioned for his son to enter, handing him a glass of whiskey, which Gareth accepted gratefully. He waited for his son to be seated before speaking.
“I summoned you here because I feel the need to reiterate the importance of you handling your duties,” he said. “You have done well enough as the marquess of Hayewood. However, as you know, your responsibilities will increase when you become duke. As will the importance of those duties.”
Gareth nodded slowly, hiding his wariness by sipping his drink.
“Of course, Father,” he said, careful to keep his tone neutral. “I am perfectly aware of this.”
The duke studied him as though looking for any indication that Gareth was not taking him seriously.
“I must ensure that you understand that that applies to all duties expected of a duke,” he said with a meaningful stare. “In truth, I had imagined you married before now.”
Gareth ignored the dread filling him as he shrugged.
“I only just returned home from two years abroad,” he said. “I have not yet even attended a ball.”
The duke nodded with more urgency.
“A man is certainly entitled to take his Grand Tour any time he wishes,” he said. “However, now that you have returned, you must begin focusing on marrying. And marrying well, at that.”
Gareth bit his cheek, taking another drink to ensure that there was no reaction to the heaviness Gareth was beginning to feel as his father spoke. Thomas had told him what his parents were plotting. And Gareth knew this was the moment where it would be revealed to him by his father.
“I just returned yesterday,” he said, repeating his previous point as he thought about one of the first things Thomas had said to him before they took the walk in the gardens. “I am certain that I will have no shortage of unwed young ladies vying for my attention.”
The duke gave his head a firm shake, narrowing his eyes.
“There are many young ladies who come from good families,” he said dismissively. “However, our family’s reputation is immaculate, without a single blemish anywhere in our history. I secured it by making the match to marry your mother. Now, it is up to you to carry on that legacy by marrying a woman whom we know has a reputation equal to ours. And I believe that Cecilia is one such woman.”
Gareth made it a point to seem surprised.
“You speak as though you have already thought about this,” he said, some of his bitterness creeping into his voice.
The duke gave a dry chuckle, but he did not meet Gareth’s eyes.
“It is quite obvious that Cecilia would make an excellent match for you,” he said. “And it is equally obvious that she has an interest in you. We also know that she comes from a good family. You could certainly do worse for yourself.”
Gareth finished his drink, staring blankly at the empty glass. I could certainly do better for myself, as well, Father.
***
When Grace and Juliet entered the orphanage, the children’s faces instantly brightened. They waved to her from their seats, where Abigail had already settled them in preparation for their lessons. Abigail approached the women, embracing them both and pausing to give Lady Whiskers a pat on the head. The feline purred, turning to make her way through the children, which brought them even more joy as she wove herself in between them.
“Will you be teaching us a new song today?” one little voice asked.
Grace looked up into the bright green eyes of a boy named Benjamin. She gave him an innocent look and shrugged.
“Perhaps,” she said, causing the room to fill with the gasps and excited chatter of the orphans. “But first, we must practice our most recent one and see how well you all have done since your last lesson.”
The children straightened themselves in their seats as Lady Whiskers finished her rounds through them all and returned to Grace, taking her place at her mistress’s feet as Grace settled in on the bench. As Grace began to play, she allowed herself to disappear into the notes of the music, as she always did. For the next hour, she was able to forget about her nerves regarding her family’s house party. She drew from the beautiful music drifting from the pianoforte, and from the joy and delight from the children who relished her lessons.
After the lesson, Abigail dismissed the children to wash up for their lunch. She then smiled at Grace, patting her shoulder.
“Won’t you stay and join me for tea, dear?” she asked.
Grace nodded, returning the warm smile.
“I would be delighted,” she said.
Abigail led the way to the small vicarage parlor. Grace gasped when she saw that they would not be taking tea alone.
“Millicent, darling,” Grace said, rushing across the room and embracing her friend. “I did not know you were here today.”
Millicent Hughes beamed, gesturing toward the back of the vicarage.
“I arrived early this morning,” she said. “Father sent me with money to begin purchasing items for the less fortunate for Christmastide. So, I came to speak with Abigail about which things I should buy and to help her organize the things she already has.”
Grace nodded, gazing proudly at her friend. Her father, a very wealthy merchant, was equally as proud of Millicent and her charity work as Grace’s own father was of her. He would never refuse her the funds to further her charitable efforts. And Millicent was always eager to do more for the less fortunate. Especially the children.
“You are such a kind woman, Millie,” she said.
Abigail brought in the tea just as the women settled into their seats. Millicent immediately began speaking about an upcoming ball she would be attending, instantly reminding Grace of the house party that her family was to host. Her previous anxiety returned, and she struggled to concentrate on her friend’s words. She did not wish to dampen the high spirits in the room. But nor did she find herself able to share in the excitement about the season. Especially now that she knew that her parents would be inviting the ton into their home, despite their judgments and tactless words.
“Grace, dear, you have that brow furrow,” Abigail said after a few moments. “And your shoulders look as though they are dragging a carriage behind you. What troubles you?”
Millicent instantly stopped talking and looked at Grace, concerned.
“Heavens,” she said, looking at Grace sheepishly. “I just prattle on sometimes. I see now that you are upset about something. Please, tell us. We will listen.”
Grace bit her lip, glancing at Juliet. The lady’s maid gave her a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod, and Grace turned her gaze back to her friend and the kindly vicar’s wife. She quickly explained the plan her parents had to reinstate their annual house party, and how it was making her feel. As she expected, the women listened with nothing but compassion and sympathy.
“Oh, my darling Gracie,” Millicent said, embracing Grace when she finished speaking. “I understand how overwhelming this must feel right now, but I have always seen you as a remarkable source of strength. I believe, without a doubt, that the rest of society will come to recognize that as well.”
Abigail nodded with an empathetic stare.
“You certainly are,” she said. “Surviving such a horrific accident was a feat in itself. And everything you have overcome since has been nothing short of miraculous. The physician himself did not know how you might be affected permanently. But you healed from your injuries, and you are still one of the kindest and most loving people I have the pleasure of knowing.”
Grace smiled and nodded, trying to open herself to the comfort that the words offered.
“That is very kind of you both,” she said. “I just hope that the ton sees it that way, especially in my family’s own home.”
Millicent nodded firmly, as though exceedingly confident in herself before she spoke again.
“If they do not, that speaks more about them than it ever will about you,” she said with another warm smile. “And do bear in mind that I shall be right there to offer my support as well. I would not dream of missing this ball for all the world.”
Grace reveled in the momentary relief she felt at her friend’s words.
“What would I ever do without you?” she asked, embracing her friend again.
Yet when tea had finished, and she, Juliet and Lady Whiskers were heading back to Farenley Manor, Grace’s mind slipped back into the darker thoughts. The gossip mongers might be polite when she was present. But nothing would stop them from whispering about her when she was not, as they had since word of her accident had first spread. And part of her thought it would be better to be directly confronted with their stares of pity and words of judgment than to know it was occurring when she was not there to observe. It would hurt her feelings even more, she knew. But it would show a little more respect than the relentless gossiping. That would surely be better for her. Would it not?
“Milady, the distress is very evident on your face,” Juliet said, snapping Grace out of her self-pitying darkness. “Have you considered asking your parents to abandon the house party plans? Or perhaps, at least telling them that you will not participate or interact with the guests?”
Grace shook her head with a sigh.
“I know that I could,” she said. “All I would need do is to tell Mother and Father that I was not ready. But I cannot spoil something so important to not only them, but to my siblings, as well. They deserve to be happy and enjoy the company of their friends and peers. I cannot bring myself to destroy that for them.”
Juliet looked at Grace with admiration in her eyes.
“And this is why everyone says that you are so kind and generous,” she said. “You will sacrifice anything for those who matter most to you. Even now, instead of locking yourself away and fretting over the house party all alone, you chose to spend your morning giving the orphans their scheduled music lesson. Even in times of distress for you, you are still determined to spread warmth and joy to others. Especially those children. This is why your scars do not, and never will, define you, Lady Grace. It is also why those closest to you adore and admire you so much.”
Grace blushed, smiling shyly. She was always humbled by such praise and kindness from her friends and family. She did not know if she would ever see what they saw in herself. But she did almost always feel better after the encouragement and comfort. Despite her disfigurement, she was fortunate to have loved ones who cared so much about her. And because of their support, she was able to pursue endeavors that fulfilled a greater purpose beyond the shallow confines of societal expectations. As nervous as she was about the house party, she could find a bit of solace in that knowledge.
I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new novel“The Marquess’s Imperfect Bride” It will be live on Amazon soon…
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This Post Has 2 Comments
I really like what I have read. Grace is trying so hard to put others before herself. She realizes that her scars could cause people to be cruel to her. Make her and them uncomfortable . Pity her. She wants people to look beyond her scars at the beautiful person she is inside.
Looks interesting