Page 37 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

Jennie was beaming at her. “You look perfect, my dear,” she said. “Are you ready? Rory is kicking his heels waiting, and you know how restless he gets.”

Grace agreed she was ready, and they set off down the stairs.

Rory stood at the bottom of the staircase, wearing the silk breeches and dark blue jacket that seemed to be de rigueur for these sorts of events. With his auburn hair gleaming and his freshly shaven face, he was every inch a duke’s son, and Grace felt a little wobbly at the sight. Desperately, she wished their marriage were more than just a pretense. She wished . . . she wished . . .

He was watching her descend with an expression of satisfaction, and when she reached him, he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Grace, you will be the most beautiful woman there tonight,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. Feeling awkward, she touched her fingertip to the diamond pendant. “I did not expect—”

“You cannot go to a ball without jewelry,” he retorted. “It makes me look like a miser.”

Oh! That was why he had given her the necklace. Appearances. He didn’t want to be in the same class as Ormsby.

“You should go,” Jennie reminded them. “You will be fashionably late, but any later and the Fotheringhams may think you rude.” Then, with a warm smile, “Enjoy yourselves, my dears!”

Grace wished Jennie was coming with them, but told herself not to be silly, as Rory led her to the carriage. The vehicle set off toward their destination.

“I saw your necklace in Bond Street,” Rory said, gesturing at her diamond pendant. “Kilsyth said I should get you something pretty.”

“Oh. Then I should thank Lord Kilsyth?” she said quietly.

“You could,” Rory said, “but I had already decided you needed some jewelry. I had thought rubies, but then I saw this. Do you really like it?” He sounded uncertain, which was unlike him.

“Yes, I do. It is beautiful,” she assured him. “Can I keep it?”

He looked astonished. “Of course you can! I gave it to you,” he said, frowning now. “Don’t you want to keep it? My word, you are verra difficult to understand sometimes, Grace.”

He had hurt her feelings, but now she had hurt his. Grace took a breath and tried to explain. “It is just that this is new to me. Being married and receiving gifts. I am still getting used to it. I’m sorry if I seem difficult. I just don’t want to say or do something that will make you . . .”

Suddenly he was beside her, on her side of the carriage, her hands in his. “That will make me what? Send you away? Return you to Ormsby as if you are an unwanted gift? My dear wife, that is not going to happen. The jewelry is yours and you can keep it.”

She looked into his eyes and the truth was there. He would never do those things to her, not willingly anyway, and she must learn to trust him. She must learn to believe the best instead of the worst.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, leaned in as if to kiss her, and then changed his mind when the coach began to slow as they reached their destination.

Rory climbed down and helped her to the ground, and she looked up at the house before them. It was grand but perhaps not as grand as some others. That was when Grace realized that she had heard of the Fotheringhams after all. She wondered how she knew of them. There was something niggling at the back of her mind but she couldn’t quite grasp it. And anyway, it was too late. They were climbing the shallow stairs to the front door, from which spilled light and voices and music.

Grace drew in a deep breath. “You won’t leave me on my own?” she asked him quietly, embarrassed at her own needy words but not able to stop herself from saying them. “It’s just . . . I am wondering why these people invited us? Do we know them?”

He leaned in so close, his breath stirring wisps of her hair. “That is why we are here, so that you can get to know them,” he reminded her with a return to his confident manner. “And to dance with me,” he added with a grin.

“Yes, I want to dance with you,” she agreed, with a glance up at him through her lashes.

Rory’s smile grew.

She didn’t expect them to be announced as they proceeded into the ballroom, they had arrived quite late, but there was a footman waiting and he called out their names in a loud, carrying voice.

“Lord Rory and Lady Grace MacKenzie!”

Everyone stopped and stared, or at least that was how it felt to Grace. She had the urge to turn tail and run, but before she could do so, the hostess had come to greet her.

“We are so pleased you could attend tonight!” Mrs. Fotheringham’s smile was wide but her eyes cold. There was something about her. She reminded Grace of someone. But she was struggling to think clearly with all that was going on about her.

The woman chattered, and Grace nodded and smiled, but she hardly heard her. Rory was responding with his own comments, seemingly having no trouble at all. His self-assurance would always carry him through any situation and Grace was relieved he was by her side.

Mrs. Fotheringham turned to another couple, and they were finally free to move away. Grace looked up at the gallery above her, where the musicians were stationed. They were starting another tune, and the dancers were forming. Rory squeezed her hand.