Page 48 of The Mistletoe Countess
“You married her for the money and the heir, not for her personality and certainly not for her hair.”
The words stung—both from the harshness and the blatant truth of the matter. A sudden pain sliced through her chest.
“Mother, that is quite enough. If you cannot speak civilly, then we shall take our leave.” Frederick’s voice hardened. He turned to Grace. “It’s late, and Mother is overtired.”
“It’s an unfortunate color.” Lady Astley waved away her son’s words and set her gaze back on Grace. “But I suppose you had no hand in it, and at least your pale complexion and excellent fashion covers over some of your more unsightly errors.”
Grace couldn’t help it, whether from the band-like tension or the utter ridiculousness of the woman’s standards. She laughed.
The woman’s eyes tightened like a bowstring ready to fire, and Grace immediately covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn’t help much. In all truth, Grace’s most unsightly errors were exactly those, the ones no one could see. And there were dozens of them. Her propensity for giggling when nervous being at the top.
“Good heavens, Frederick, you’ve married a simpleton.”
The laughter threatened another release, but Frederick stepped forward. “Grace is anything but a simpleton. She’s intelligent, innovative, and kind.” He tugged Grace back toward the door. “Good night, Mother.”
His ready defense lifted Grace’s chin. Oh, she’d never known the sheer pleasure of having a man defend her with such eloquence. Yes, Frederick’s hero qualities were in excellent shape.
“Don’t fool yourself, Frederick. Do you believe this…girl can bring pride to the Percy name? A name you have yet to redeem?”
Grace watched her husband, tenderhearted as he was, bend a little from the accusations. Something dark and horrible fed the bitterness in this woman, something with enough power to wilt her dashing rogue.
“With due respect, Lady Moriah…Dowager…um…Astley.” English titles were terribly confusing. And from the glint in Lady Astley’s eyes, Grace hadn’t guessed correctly quickly enough. “You do not know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of, but I can assure you with the low expectations you have for me, I’ll exceed them.”
She cackled, a horrible sound. “I don’t hold out a great deal of hope for you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t hung my hope on your opinion either, isn’t it?” Grace refused to break eye contact.
“You insolent child.”
“That is enough.” Frederick took Grace by the arm and turned her to him. “I will not have you butchered in this fashion.” He walked her to the door and rang the bell. A maid appeared within moments.
“See Lady Astley to her room.” He turned those dark eyes on her, his expression softened with an apology. “You should not have to bear such ridicule.”
Grace forced a smile and grappled enough courage to mean it. “We’ll face this together, won’t we?”
He raised tired eyes to hers, his smile weak. “Indeed we will.”
A sudden heaviness fell over Grace as she followed the maid back through the corridor. The young woman, one of the two who’d smiled at Grace earlier in the evening, moved quietly forward, black dress and white apron fitted to perfection.
“What’s your name?”
The maid looked ahead, slowing her pace. “Mary, ma’am.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mary.”
Mary stopped in front of another one of the beautifully arched doorways. “I reckon you’re tired after your travels, my lady.” She pushed open the door and stepped inside, waiting to the left as Grace entered.
The expansive room spread wide, decorated in a French style with gold and white. Cool colors. Intricate and pristine. Elegant swans were carved into the door and oak crown molding with beautiful detail. “It’s lovely.”
“His lordship ordered it to be prepared with elegance.” The girl folded her hands in front of her, smile soft. How much had the servants worked to prepare for Grace’s arrival? Were they happy with Frederick’s choice? Disappointed?
From the welcome at her arrival, she’d guess the latter.
“I see the tea’s been brought up for you, my lady. Would you like me to pour out?”
“No thank you, Mary. I’ll see to it myself.”
With a bow of her golden head, Mary excused herself, leaving Grace to the impending silence. The fire crackled in the white marble hearth, adding flickering light to the electric ones dotted throughout the room. Despite the opulence of the space, reality pressed a heavy hand over Grace’s spirit. She stepped close to the fire, leaning against the hearth, suddenly wearier than she’d felt in a long time. Her mother-in-law’s words pierced through the sweetness of the last six married days like a flash of lightning in the dark. Frederick had only married her for money—her personality had little to do with it. And the heir? Was that the only reason he shared such beautiful kisses with her?
