Page 79 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

“Yes, I think I will.”

Mrs. Williamson reached for a thick shawl from a nearby hook.

“Please, take this,” Mrs. Williamson said kindly. “If I cannot persuade you to take an escort, at least stay warm.”

Grace thanked her for the kindness and took the shawl. She pulled a bonnet tight around her cheeks then stepped out into the rain.

As she hastened toward the stable, she thought constantly of the last moments she had seen Philip.

She had thought they had made some sort of breakthrough in his boxing room, making love again in a way that had felt both thrillingly exciting and yet deeply intimate. She had been about to turn to him, to embrace him and tell him that she would never intentionally cause him pain and that if it was within her power, she would never appear in the scandal sheets again, but he had pulled away.

His lack of an explanation and the fact that he had escaped her so fast and not come to see her since cut deeply. She needed to run, to feel like the Grace she used to know before she had married Philip.

She took her horse and rode out of the estate with no hesitation today. There was one place in particular she wished to go, someone she wished to see.

She had not yet returned home for she feared what her mother would say when she saw her. She didn’t doubt Althea would love to go on at length about how shameful it was for a duchess to appear in the scandal sheets so much, but risking running into Althea and her anger was worth it if it meant seeing her father again.

When Grace reached the house, she left the horse in the stable. Rather than approach the house by one of the doors, as she would no doubt alert the butler and thereby her mother as well to her presence, Grace approached the window of her father’s study instead.

She peered through the gap in the half-closed curtains, seeing her father reclining in his large armchair by the fire. He was wrapped up in a banyan with a blanket loose across his knees. His hair was unkempt as though it had not seen a comb that day though she rather suspected from the way he stared into the fire that he hardly cared about such things.

Seeing he was alone, Grace tapped on the window.

He looked toward the window, mildly interested. When he saw her there waving at him, he jumped to his feet in alarm.

“Oh, please be careful,” she mouthed through the window.

He discarded his blanket and hastened toward her, clearly fighting the fatigue that so often overtook his body. He pushed back the curtains and thrust the window up.

“Grace? Well, you always did find unique ways into a room,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I wanted to see you.” She left out the part about not wanting to see her mother though from the smile her father gave, he clearly knew this was her thought.

“Come, I’ll help you in.” He offered her a hand though she didn’t want to lean on him when he was already weak. She climbed in through the window, struggling a little with the weight of her damp riding habit but managing to land successfully in the room. He closed the window behind her then drew her toward the fire. “I have missed you, Grace. This house is not the same without you.”

“I have missed you too.” She sat down on a footstool in front of the fire as her father returned to his chair.

Seeing that he had a tea tray set up beside him, she retrieved a spare cup from a drinks cupboard nearby and poured a fresh cup for herself as well as topping up her father’s drink.

“Here, stay warm,” she pleaded, pushing the cup into his hand. He smiled his thanks and took a sip.

“How are you?” he asked softly. “How is marriage treating you?”

She blinked, uncertain how to answer him. She couldn’t tell him that she was unfortunately falling in love with her husband, and the only problem was, he didn’t love her back. He thought more of the pain of seeing her name in the scandal sheets. Maybe he said it was not about ‘reputations,’ but it clearly was. Why else would those scandal sheets upset him so much?

“Ah, the pause says all.” John sighed deeply. He slumped in his chair and rubbed his brow. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

“Sorry? Whatever for? This is all my doing, Father.”

If I hadn’t tried to complete that ridiculous bet!

“I should have taken better care of you.”

“You have always taken care of me.” She leaned toward him, impassioned with her words. “You are the best of fathers.” She held his hand, and he held tightly to hers too.

It was a sadness to her to see the paleness of his skin and the sunken sockets of his eyes. He was sickly indeed.

He needs a new physician.

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