Page 50 of The Trouble with a Dare

Martha was studying her intently now, and Grace suspected there was little that got past this woman. She ought not underestimate her.

“You love him.”

There was something like surprise behind the words, and Grace realised his mother had not expected that.

She met her mother-in-law’s eye, hiding nothing. “Very much.”

There was silence for a long moment as Mrs Oak digested this. “But you didn’t, not when you wed him.”

The words were a shock, too insightful, even though Grace had half-expected it.

“We… We did not know each other well,” she said stiffly, aware that she was on dangerous ground.

“Well enough to let him put a babe in you,” Martha said, her shrewd eyes narrowing. “Unless it wasn’t his.”

Grace could not help the jolt of shock that lanced through her and did not doubt the colour had vanished from her face. She felt giddy and afraid, her heart beating too fast.

“I know my son,” Martha said, her expression flat. “And I know he’d never have got you in such a situation. At least, I did, once I’d time to think it through. He’s too damned honourable for his own good… always has been. But I did not think him fool enough to wed a girl with a bastard in her belly.”

Grace gasped and surged to her feet with difficulty, her eyes prickling with tears.

“How dare you,” she choked out, realising she had made a dreadful mistake in coming here. She ought to have heeded Sterling.

She turned to leave, but her head swam, her heart was beating too fast, and she felt giddy and sick. She sucked in a sharp breath, clutching at her stomach, and praying for the strength to walk away.

“Come here, you silly girl.” Martha’s voice was stern, but not unkind. “Sit down at once before you fall down and do yourself or the child an injury.”

Having little choice but to obey, Grace sat, rigid and wretched. She clamped her jaw shut, fighting tears, determined not to cry in front of this woman.

“You’ve not just yourself to think of now,” Martha scolded. “’Tis too easy to overdo it and regret it later. Believe me, I know.”

There was such a wealth of bitterness behind the words that Grace looked towards her mother-in-law, wondering what she meant by it.

A haunted light flickered in her eyes for a moment before she spoke. “I’ve spent a good deal of my life pregnant, and only Sterling to show for it. I lost seven before they were born, birthed two others who lived, at first. One boy died at two months, the other before his first birthday. Sterling was sickly when he was born. Didn’t expect him to live long. Every year I waited for the inevitable, but somehow, he kept going, growing like a weed. I still can’t believe it sometimes, that he grew to such a big, strong fellow, like his father. I never thought I’d see him become a man.”

Grace stared at the woman, hearing the emotionless retelling of her life, no inflection in the words, no tears, no trace of regret or self-pity. Instinctively, Grace’s hands curved protectively about her stomach, as if she could shield her child from such a fate. She tried to imagine how it would feel, to keep enduring the loss of your hopes and dreams. A sudden surge of empathy overwhelmed her, and she wished very much to hug the woman and tell her how sorry she was, but she did not think Martha would welcome it, and she was too afraid to try.

“Drink your tea,” Martha said, holding the cup and saucer out to Grace. “And you’d best eat another scone. There’s little enough of you, and you need your strength.”

Grace took the cup with trembling hands and sipped, grateful for the sweet warmth that steadied her a little. “What are you going to do?” she asked, wary now.

“Do?” Martha asked, giving a tsk of annoyance. “And what do you expect me to do? You think I want my son made a laughingstock? Oh, I’ll not breathe a word, don’t fret. As far as the world knows, it’s his son or daughter, and I’ll not have anyone know otherwise. It’s no one else’s business for one. What about the father, though? He won’t come looking?”

Grace shook her head, quite certain on that point at least.

“No, I was a fool and had my head turned by a handsome man, but I cannot regret it, despite everything. I might never have met Sterling otherwise, might never have realised what a fine man he was. I do love him, Martha, and I’ll never bring him shame or do anything to hurt him. I promise you that.”

“And if he won’t let you be a part of the farm, won’t give you what you want?” Martha pressed, challenge in her eyes.

Grace shrugged, feeling somewhat overwhelmed and unable to cope with anything else at this moment, but determined not to give in. “I won’t stop trying to convince him, but I won’t interfere,” she said, weary now. “I… I only want to be a part of his life All of it. Not just the pretty, pleasant bits, but the hardships and the difficulties, the messy parts. I can, you know. I’m not in the least bit fragile.”

“No,” Martha said, her shrewd gaze fixed upon Grace. “No, perhaps you’re not, but you’re done in at this moment. Come on, you’d best have a lay down. You can use my bed and have a little nap. I’ll not have you going back to the house as white as a sheet. You’ll likely faint on the way and that will be my fault, no doubt.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“No,” Martha interrupted with a short laugh. “But my son would blame me. Come along. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Chapter 17