Still unable to speak, Grace nodded. How had she done this? Again? It was only supposed to be a kiss, and she’d let him take her. No, that wasn’t fair, she encouraged him and desired him every bit as much as he seemed to desire her. But now everything was so much worse. And he thought it was just a matter of how a wedding was to take place. She’d have to explain it to him to-morrow, when she could think rationally. Grace let him smooth her skirts once more and guide her into the hall.
His arm was around her, as if she was ill. Leaning down, he touched her ear with his lips. “I’ll tell the others you’re not well and have gone home. Better yet, I’ll send for Phoebe.”
By the time her carriage and Phoebe arrived, Grace had herself at least a little bit under control. Well, that might be overstating the case; at least she wasn’t weeping any longer.
Phoebe took her arm. “I’ll take her home. Worthington, go back and ask Anna to watch Lady Charlotte and bring her home.”
“I’ll help you into the coach first. She’s very pale.” He started to pick Grace up.
“Worthington, stop,” Phoebe hissed in a harsh whisper. “You cannot simply carry her. It is bad enough that people will have seen you rush out after her.” She walked Grace toward the door and huffed. “She will be fine.”
Apparently, he was not convinced. He remained with them, accompanying them to the carriage and helping her and then Phoebe into the coach before closing the door.
The coach gave a small lurch as it rolled away. Phoebe chaffed Grace’s hands as she attempted to understand what came over her this evening. How was she going to explain herself, and what if she got pregnant? Right now she couldn’t even remember when she’d last had her courses.
Soon they were at Stanwood House.
Royston opened the door and bowed. “Are you all right, my lady?”
Grace repressed a hysterical giggle, and lied, “Just a little faint. I’ll be fine.”
Phoebe stayed with her as she mounted the stairs, then entered her parlor.
Oh God.Phoebe was going to think Grace had lost her mind, and she’d be right.
“Sherry or hot milk?” Her friend tugged the bell-pull.
Grace sighed. “Sherry. It is on the sideboard. This has gone beyond hot milk.”
Handing her a glass, Phoebe sat down next to her. “Now, what happened? He seemed more concerned than angry. Did you tell him you cannot marry?”
Grace shook her head. Her heart was breaking all over again. “I—I didn’t get a chance. We . . . and then I—I tried. But he said he’d get a special license, and I told him I couldn’t, but he thought I wanted the banns read . . .”
Phoebe put her arm around Grace’s shoulders. “Grace, did it happen again?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yes, and he’s coming in the morning to propose properly.”
Her friend sighed. “And you still plan to tell him you cannot marry him?”
Sobbing again, Grace nodded. “I must. I do not have any other choice.”
A knock sounded on the door. She really couldn’t face anyone else now. “Come.”
Royston cracked the door open. “My lady. The Earl of Evesham is waiting for Lady Evesham. He said not to rush.”
Grace sat up and took her friend’s hand. Enough was enough. She had to pull herself together. The children would be here to-morrow, and they’d sense something was wrong if she didn’t. “I’ll be fine. A good night’s sleep should do me.”
Drawing her brows together, Phoebe looked at Grace dubiously. “If you are sure?”
She tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage it. “Go to your husband. At least one of us can have one.”
She broke down into tears again.
“I’ll stay a while longer. Marcus won’t mind at all.” Phoebe turned to the door. “We shall need a mug of hot milk with honey and her ladyship’s maid. Please tell Lord Evesham I’ll be some few minutes yet.”
“Yes, my lady. There is also a Lord Worthington asking after her ladyship.”
Grace gulped air and tried to breathe normally.Not tonight. I cannot see him now.
