Page 23 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

“This evening is special,” she had said, as they were leaving. “It is your first outing as a married couple.”

Now, as they were seated in the box that overlooked the stage and the audience below, Grace felt giddy. Whoever was in the box next to them was staring toward them, and then there were the inevitable whispers and mocking laughter. Could she really sit here and pretend it wasn’t happening? At any moment she might jump up and run away.

When Rory spoke close to her ear, she started.

“Ignore them,” he said. “They do not matter.”

“But they do. I need to make my scandal go away.”

“You will, but not by letting them see they have the power to hurt you.”

He was right, of course he was right. She attempted to sit up straighter, stiffening her backbone. Yes, she was feeling anxious and as if she were the center of all eyes, but that did not mean everyone else had to know.

“Smile,” Rory said, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. “Who cares what they think?”

Grace forced herself to smile as she turned to him. His blue eyes were bright in the dim light, and she realized he was enjoying himself. Gossips didn’t scare him—he was probably used to them. She told herself she needed to be more like Rory.

“I am going to enjoy myself,” she said, because that was the best solution. “And not care what anyone says.”

He grinned in approval and then lifted her hand to his lips.

Her heart gave a jump at the sensation, even knowing it was all for show, but he continued to hold her hand in his as the curtain began to rise, and Grace left it there.

Chapter Twelve

Aunt Jennie may have gone to great lengths to make this evening special, but so had Rory. He wanted Grace to enjoy herself for two reasons: to make up for the misery her father had inflicted upon her, and to show Bolton Buckingham he hadn’t broken her heart.

He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. Was it because he was a good person? No, that wasn’t entirely true. But for some reason, Grace brought out feelings in him he could not remember experiencing before when it came to any woman he had spent time with. Yes, their tears affected him, and he was never cruel, but he could not say he had ever felt protective toward them. Not like this.

His feelings confused him.

He had sworn he would not take Grace to his bed, but when he had rejected her overtures, he had felt as if he should have said yes. He had been determined to live his life the way he always did despite the wedding, but now he was wondering if he should be paying more attention to her.

His conversation with Lord Kilsyth stuck in his mind, sneaking into his thoughts at the oddest moments. The man might be grief stricken now, but he had lived a full and happy life with a woman he loved. Could Rory say the same? Happiness might be fleeting, who knew what the future held, but why reject the chance? Maybe the best things in life were not meant to last forever. Maybe that was part of what made them special.

The play turned out to be a comedy, and Rory chuckled delightedly several times. He could hear Grace giggling beside him, although softly, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her. When the curtains dropped after the first act, he had a surprise for her. He had arranged for a treat to be brought to their box—ices flavored with citrus fruits. Grace gave a gasp of pleasure when they were presented to her, and she turned to Rory with a grateful smile.

He liked it when she smiled. When he caused her to smile. It felt like a victory against all those who had tried to bring her down. And there it was again, that protective urge, making him want to do the oddest things. Like wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

Uncomfortable with his own thoughts, he looked away, and that was when he discovered it wasn’t just Grace smiling at him. The entire theatre audience was taking an interest in the newly wed couple, and some of them were smiling. Although a great many more of them looked as if they were waiting for some new piece of scandal to happen. He wouldn’t have been surprised if they were taking notes to send to one of the salacious gossip sheets that were sold on the London streets.

The other day, he had found one that Aunt Jennie had kept from Callum’s stay with her, and although he had laughed at the cartoon of his brother and Penelope, he had also felt an inward shudder. Callum’s faux pas with the roasted boar had kept the ton agog for weeks and then, added to that, his ramshackle marriage to Penelope. It was a shame Callum’s failings had tainted Rory’s stay in London. Although he did not like his brother being spoken about so cruelly, it did feel as if the two of them were being compared. And Rory had had enough of that throughout his life.

Until the boar and his marriage, Callum had been known as the sensible brother, the sort of heir the dukedom needed, while Rory was always known as the feckless brother, the one the family shook their head over and never took too seriously. Rory admitted it hurt him to think they believed that, even while he played up to their low expectations.

Did Grace believe him a lost cause? Right now she was sending him little glances under her lashes as she licked her ice, and watching her tongue delve into the citrus flavored confection, he felt himself go hard. Rory shifted in his seat, telling that eager part of his anatomy to behave itself. This wasn’t about him wanting Grace—although he admitted he did—this was about showing the world they were in harmony so that she would not be excluded from society later on.

Later on was a vague time in his head. Later on, when he would make his own life, or continue on with the one he had, and she would make hers.

He knew he wouldn’t always be around to keep an eye on her. When . . . if . . . he returned home to Bonnyrigg, then Grace would be here on her own. There would be no one to watch over her, to keep her safe from Ormsby or men like Buckingham. Perhaps he could hire someone? A bodyguard to follow her around and step in whenever needed. Would she agree to that?

Impatiently, Rory shoved his tangled thoughts back into their box and tried to concentrate on the play. The audience were laughing loudly, and he was shocked to see that the curtain had risen and the actors were back on stage again. He told himself to concentrate. Grace was smiling at him, evidently expecting him to share the amusing spectacle with her, but her smile wavered when she read his expression.

“Aren’t you enjoying the play?” she whispered, leaning closer. Her arm brushed against his and he breathed in the delicious scent of her.

“Yes,” he said louder than he meant. Then, eyes narrowed, “Are you?”

Her answer was lost in another burst of laughter from the crowd. Rory’s mind went down another rabbit hole. What was he going to do with his life? It was a question that had never occurred to him, or if it had then he had swiftly dismissed it. He had been perfectly happy with the way things were, or at least that was what he had always told himself. It was just that lately he had felt a certain unease about his future. Was it time for a change, and what would that change look like?