The Devil's Necklace (13 page)

She nodded numbly, looking for a single warm glance,
some sign of the closeness they had shared last night, but there wasn’t the slightest indication they were any more than distantly acquainted. Ethan seemed a completely different man from the one who had made love to her last night, and Grace’s heart twisted.

She had known he desired her. After his tender lovemaking, she had thought perhaps she meant more to him than simply a vessel to give him ease.

Seeing the hard set of his jaw, his remote, unreadable expression, any hope she had began to crumble and fade. She knew the ghosts he fought, knew deep down there was little chance for them. She had been a fool to believe it could be any other way. Been a fool again.

“I shall miss you, dearest.” Aunt Matilda’s eyes welled with tears, a single drop splashing onto the lens of the quizzing glass hanging round her neck. “So very much.”

Grace’s own eyes misted. They only had time for a brief farewell before setting off for the seaport at Boston. “I shall miss you, too, Aunt Matilda. Perhaps once we are settled…”

Aunt Matilda nodded. “Write to me often, dearest.”

“I shall, I promise.” Another brief hug and Grace turned away. Ethan’s hand at her waist was surprisingly gentle as he guided her out of the house, back to Lady Tweed’s carriage.

At the Scarborough harbor, the
Sea Devil
bobbed at the end of the dock. She had never thought to see the ship’s gleaming black hull and sleek white sails again. Now, except for Phoebe, she was returning as if she had never left, being led down to the captain’s cabin while Phoebe settled herself in Angus’s borrowed cabin for the brief
journey along the coast to Boston, less than two days’ sail away.

As the ship pulled out of the harbor, she unpacked the few items she would need: her silver-backed comb and hairbrush, a clean chemise, a gown for the second day of the journey and a matching pair of slippers.

She wondered when she would see her husband, but she knew he was busy and as the day slipped past he never appeared.

Freddie brought supper and the captain’s regrets that he could not join her. Grace was only mildly surprised. He was back aboard his ship, immersed once more in his painful memories and his guilt for making her his wife.

She went to bed early but, unable to fall asleep, just lay there listening for his footfalls. They did not come.

Ethan stood at the rail, staring out at the pitch-dark water. He was married to Grace Chastain. Last night, their wedding night, he had made passionate love to her. Over the years, he had slept with dozens of women. None had aroused him as Grace did. None satisfied him the way she did.

God’s blood, he wished it weren’t so.

Being back aboard his ship made all his doubts resurface. She was Harmon Jeffries’s daughter. She had engineered the traitor’s escape from the gallows. Perhaps she had even been in league with the man in selling secrets to the French. What in God’s name had he done?

Ethan took a breath and released it slowly. His emotions remained in turmoil, but in truth he did not doubt Grace’s loyalty, merely her judgment. She had aided a traitor’s escape because that man was her father. Even
though the viscount was now his father-in-law, Ethan vowed he would not rest until the man was found and made to pay.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Long-boned Ned walking toward him along the deck, his narrow face lined and grim. He stopped directly in front of Ethan, his thin legs braced against the roll of the ship.

“So ye married the girl. I didn’t think ye would.”

“I brought her aboard, Ned. The girl was an innocent. I had no other choice.”

“We know who she is. All of us knows.”

“What do you mean?” Only Angus knew why he had taken Grace from the
Lady Anne
that night. Only Angus knew she was Viscount Forsythe’s daughter.

“One of the men heard ye talkin’ to McShane. She’s the devil’s kin, that girl—a bloody traitor’s get. That’s why ye took ’er, ain’t it? Me and the others, we figure she’s the one what helped him beat the hangman. Ye took her thinkin’ ta find out what she knew.”

His insides knotted. That was part of the reason, not all of it. “She doesn’t know where he is. She never did.” He hated the look on Ned’s face, the only other man who had survived the French attack.

“Whatever the truth of all this, Ned, Grace is my wife. I expect to see her treated with respect.”

Ned looked away. Ethan thought he’d seen pity in the sailor’s dark eyes. “Yer a good man, Capt’n. Ye didn’t deserve for this ta happen.”

“Perhaps I did. Fate has a way of evening the score.”

“I hope yer wrong, Capt’n. I’m still alive, too. We can’t punish ourselves for it forever.”

Ethan made no reply and Ned walked away, his tall
thin frame disappearing in the darkness. Though the weather was chill, Ethan stayed where he was, thinking of Grace and the years stretching ahead of them.

Wondering how long it would take for his feelings for her to fade. Wondering if the guilt he felt for marrying her would fade along with them.

It was well after midnight, Grace sleeping fitfully, when the sound of the softly closing cabin door awakened her. She pretended to slumber as Ethan undressed and slipped into bed beside her. He rolled away from her onto his side and lay quiet for a time, but she could tell he wasn’t asleep.

The minutes ticked past. Ethan shifted restlessly, then finally eased over onto her side of the mattress and curled his long body spoon-fashion against her.

“I know you’re awake,” he said softly, pressing a kiss against the side of her neck. Her breath caught as his hand moved over her hip and began to ease under her white cotton night rail. “Do you intend to deny me my husbandly rights?”

Did she? Part of her wanted to say yes, to tell him that making love meant nothing unless he cared for her. But an other part was already responding, her body warming to his touch, growing damp with need.

“I won’t deny you.” She could feel the stiffness of his arousal against her bottom and her heartbeat quickened. Ethan unbuttoned the front of her night rail and slid it off one shoulder. She felt his mouth moving over her skin, the hem of the gown sliding up over her hips. His hands skimmed gently over her bottom, kneading her there, finding her softness, stroking her until she trembled.

“You’re ready for me,” he said as he eased her legs apart, lifted her hips, and slid himself slowly inside her,
filling her more easily each time they made love. “You want me, too.”

It was true. She wanted him, wanted the pleasure she knew he could give her. “At least we have that.”

“At least,” he agreed, and then he began to move.

They had never made love this way before and a whole set of new sensations burned through her. Grace felt the heat, tasted the sweetness, gave herself over to it. This much they could share if nothing else.

Perhaps it would be enough, she thought as she reached the pinnacle and the heavens burst open before her.

But deep down she knew her heart would want more.

T
hey left the ship in Boston, a modest market town that in medieval times had been England’s largest port. Ethan arranged for a set of carriages to transport the threesome— Ethan, Grace, and Phoebe—along with their baggage, to his Gloucestershire home, Belford Park. According to Ethan, it sat on five hundred acres between the towns of Broadway and Winchcombe in the village of Belford End. Angus and Freddie would be returning to London with the ship.

It didn’t take long for their party to get underway. Grace said her farewells to the Scot and the boy, the two friends she had made on board the ship, and they set off on their overland journey, Ethan riding with Grace, Phoebe in the second carriage with the baggage.

“It’s a long trip,” Ethan said. “Perhaps you can nap along the way.”

She did tire more easily these days. “I shall certainly try.” Though it wouldn’t be easy to fall asleep beneath Ethan’s hot, heavy-lidded gaze.

Still, the rocking of the carriage lulled her and she was able to nap off and on. They spent the first night at
the King James Inn in Oakham and the second in Warwick at a place called simply The Goose. During the day, Ethan said little, though his gaze drifted to hers again and again. She could feel the tension inside the carriage, feel his hot looks and hungry glances. When the tension between them be came too much to bear, he departed the coach to ride up on the box with the driver.

At night he shared her bed.

Grace thought of those passion-filled nights as the carriage rolled over the rutted roads the final distance to Belford. Though Ethan made love to her quite thoroughly, he seemed to be holding something back, some part of himself that he refused to share. Grace found herself doing the same.

It was late afternoon of the third day that they rounded a turn in the road and pulled through the tall iron gates of Belford Park. Gazing out the window of the carriage, Grace couldn’t help being drawn to the magnificent landscape, five hundred rolling green acres dotted with ancient oaks.

As the coach traveled along the gravel lane, winding its way toward the house, she could see the mansion up ahead. Built of yellow Cotswold stone, the majestic residence stood three stories high with arched, paned windows that wrapped in a U-shape around gardens in the rear.

“It was constructed in the early seventeen hundreds,” Ethan told her, following the line of her vision toward the house. “I lived here with my family until my parents were killed, then the three of us children moved in with the earl and countess of Brant.”

“Cord’s parents?”

“That’s right. The countess was my father’s sister.”

“How did…how did your parents die?”

He glanced out the window, the painful memory bringing a crease between his eyes. “There was a carriage accident on the road to London. My father lived several days but in the end, his injuries were too severe for him to survive.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“I was only eight, but I remember my parents well.”

And missed them, she suspected. Had all his life. Just as she had missed the love of a father. She flicked him a sideways glance. He was her husband, but she knew so little about him. Perhaps once they were settled, he would be more open about his past.

The rented carriage rolled up in front of the house and a pair of blond footmen in pale blue livery charged down the stairs to assist them. As Grace departed the coach, she noticed the exterior of the house was meticulously groomed, the lawns perfectly manicured, lilies floating in the pond out in front. But when she stepped into the spectacular entryway beneath the massive crystal chandelier that dominated the ceiling, she saw that the walls were in need of paint and the carpets looked as worn as those at her Aunt Matilda’s.

She glanced at Ethan, saw that he had noticed it, too, and he was frowning. “Harriet said the place was badly in need of repair. I can see that is true. I shall have to make it my first priority, once I am back in the city.”

Once I am back in the city. I
not
we,
he had said. Grace felt a shiver of apprehension. Surely he didn’t intend to leave her here and return to the city without her?

She didn’t have time to ask as a petite blond woman, dressed head to toe in black, sailed into the entryway.

“Ethan! How wonderful to see you! It has been far too long.” Word had been sent ahead of their arrival so that the lady of the house would not be taken unawares. And
Lady Belford, a woman perhaps five or six years older than Grace, seemed genuinely glad they were there.

“I’ve been remiss in not coming sooner.” Ethan bent and lightly brushed a kiss on her cheek.

“Yes, you have, but you are here now so all is forgiven.” The widow turned, a smile on her face. “And you must be Grace. It is lovely to meet Ethan’s bride.”

“Thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you, as well.” Ethan had said very little about his brother’s widow, merely that Charles had died of an influenza while Ethan was in prison and that Harriet mourned him greatly. Though the short, compact woman wore a smile, there was no mistaking the faint smudges beneath her eyes, or the drawn look to her mouth that she did her best to hide.

“The housekeeper has prepared the master’s suite. I have moved my things into the dower house just up the hill.”

“There was no need for that,” Ethan said frowning. “I didn’t come here intending to usurp your home.”

“The house is yours now, Ethan. Besides, the dower house is quite lovely. Perhaps you recall that your mother had it completely redone just before the accident. After Charles became marquess, he always kept the place in good condition. I think he was a bit sentimental about it.”

“That sounds like Charles. As I remember, he was planning to start work on the main house.” Ethan surveyed the fading wallpaper, the chips in the marble floors. “Apparently, he never got around to it.”

“No…” Harriet looked away. “We had only started discussing what should be done when he fell ill.”

Ethan’s gaze swung to Grace. “You are marchioness now. Perhaps you would like to take charge of the renovations.”

There it was again, the hint that she would be staying at the house. She looked up at him, tried to read his face. He seemed more remote than ever and her heart squeezed. She had loved him once. It seemed aeons ago. She wanted to ask him what plans he had for their future but now was not the time.

“Why don’t I show Grace upstairs to her room?” Harriet suggested. “I’m sure she could use a bit of a rest after such a long journey.”

“Thank you,” Grace said, fighting to hold back an exhausted sigh. “I would be eternally grateful.”

“I’ll be up in a while,” Ethan said. “I haven’t been to Belford for quite some time. I’d like to take a look around, renew my acquaintance.”

“Of course.” Grace watched him leave, noticing the stiff set of his shoulders, his more pronounced limp, and wondered what painful childhood memories the house might hold for him. As he wandered into one of the drawing rooms, Harriet led her upstairs to the master’s suite.

It was a lovely apartment with a separate set of rooms for the marchioness, including a bedchamber and private sitting room. The marquess’s adjoining rooms were larger, even more impressive. She could imagine how lovely the suite had been before the expensive silk fabrics began to fade.

At least the rosewood furnishings, polished to a glossy sheen, looked as lovely as the day they were installed.

“Now that you are marchioness,” Harriet said, “you should do whatever you wish with the house. I never had much of a knack for that sort of thing, but it would be lovely to see the place restored to its former beauty.”

Grace thought that if she and Ethan had a different sort of marriage, one that included love, she would like nothing better than to make the house her own.

As it was, she felt as out of place here as she had in her parents’ home, where Dr. Chastain wasn’t truly her father and because of his wife’s infidelity, made Grace’s life miserable from the time she was a little girl.

“I’ll have a bath sent up and your maid can unpack your trunks. Perhaps afterward you can rest for a while.” Harriet opened the door. “I look forward to seeing you at supper.”

The door closed and a few minutes later Phoebe arrived with a pair of footmen and a steaming tub of water. Grace luxuriated in the bath while Phoebe unpacked her things, then she lay down on the bed to nap before the evening meal.

She didn’t see Ethan until it was time to go down to the dining room, when a polite knock on the door announced his arrival. Considering the bold way he had entered the cabin they shared aboard his ship, it seemed so out of character she almost smiled.

“You are looking refreshed,” he said very formally as she opened the door to let him in, and the thought of smiling faded.

“Yes, I feel like a whole new person after my nice long bath.” She cast him a sideways glance. “Of course, I could have used someone to wash my back.”

What made her say it, she could not begin to guess, but seeing his light eyes darken as he remembered the time he had helped her bathe before gave her a shot of satisfaction.

“I shall have to keep that in mind,” he said, extending his arm to escort her downstairs.

Supper in an intimate dining room at the rear of the house went smoothly, though none of them seemed overly talkative. Grace worried about what plans Ethan might have in mind for her, and Harriet quietly missed her hus
band, even after more than a year. Perhaps Ethan’s presence reminded her of him. Grace envied the woman the time she and Charles had spent together for it had obviously been a love match.

“Did you visit the stables?” Harriet asked Ethan.

“Yes. Willis, your head groom, seems to be doing a very good job.”

“Willis is a treasure. Still, Charles would be happy to know that there is someone to truly look after his horses. You know how he always loved them.”

He nodded, spoke to Grace. “Charles favored horses. I always loved the sea.”

“You must miss it,” Grace said.

“The family holdings include a number of shipping interests. I still visit the docks quite often.”

“So you’ll be keeping the
Sea Devil,
” she said.

His light eyes roamed over her, settled for a moment on her breasts. “I’m keeping her. The ship holds a number of interesting memories I wouldn’t want to forget.”

His eyes said he was remembering their numerous encounters—and the final delicious outcome—and a faint smile tugged at his lips. Her nipples peaked beneath the bodice of her dress and her cheeks flushed with color.

Ethan studied her and the playful moment slowly faded.

After supper, Grace and Ethan retired upstairs, Ethan disappearing into his suite, she into hers. Thinking of the need she had seen in his eyes at supper, she thought that he would come to her bed, but he did not.

Nor did he the following night. He seemed to be working to distance himself, keeping their conversations purposely brief and formal. He never spoke of the future,
never talked of their child, not even when they were alone.

He stayed away from her again the third night.

Grace told herself that she did not miss him.

Ethan had to get away. Every moment he spent with Grace drew him deeper under her spell. He had never been so attracted to a woman, never wanted a woman so badly. These past nights, he had purposely stayed away from her, forced himself to sleep in his lonely bed instead of crossing the threshold to hers, instead of making love to her as he ached to do. He had grown used to sleeping with Grace, feeling her warm body snuggled against him. Dammit, he could scarcely fall asleep without her.

Bloody hell, he had married her out of duty, taken responsibility for getting her with child. It had never occurred to him that wedding Grace would make him feel as if she belonged to him, that she had a place in his future instead of just his past.

He needed to return to London, to free his mind of thoughts of her, be able to put things back in perspective. Once he got there, he could return to the life he’d had before, rid himself of this constant ache he felt for her. And he could continue his pursuit of Forsythe, see if anything new had been discovered.

He didn’t think there was much of a chance. The viscount was living, no doubt, in safety and luxury in France.

Which Grace would be happy about.

Ethan wanted to see the man hang.

Their disparate views on the matter of the viscount was another good reason for him to leave. No matter that they were now man and wife, this was one concern that would never change.

The following morning he sent a note to Grace’s bedchamber requesting her presence in the library. Within the half hour, a knock came at the library door and Grace walked into the room. She was dressed in a lemon-yellow muslin gown that somehow set off the green of her eyes, her glorious dark copper hair swept up in loose curls. She looked sweet and at the same time incredibly seductive. When she gave him a tentative smile, he felt it like a fist in the stomach.

Christ.

His desire for her seemed to have no end. If he had the least doubt he was doing the right thing in leaving, those doubts had just faded.

He walked toward her, stopped directly in front of where she stood next to a long mahogany table. “I asked you to come so that we might discuss the future.”

He didn’t miss the uncertainty that crept into those pretty green eyes. “I had expected that we would, sooner or later.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“I believe I would rather stand.”

He didn’t object. He wanted this over and done. “I have given this a good deal of thought, Grace. I believe the best course for both of us would be for you to remain at Belford Park and for me to return to the city.”

Her chin firmed. “Why is that?”

“For one thing, if my calculations are correct, you are somewhere past three months gone with child. Your confinement would be far more pleasant out here in the country than it would be in the city.”

“I see. What you are saying is that you have had your fill of me and now you would return to the life you had before.”