Instead they took a carriage to Camborne.
Grace looked fetching in her silvery-blue dress and blue
accessories. She had a thick ribbon under her breasts that tied into a rather
large bow behind her, not that he could see it but she was sitting with a
straight back in the carriage seat, hoping not to crush the accoutrement.
Finally, his mistakes were being made right in this one
perfect decision.
“After our Continental wedding tour, I thought we should see
my mother before we return to London,” he said.
Her face paled and she turned away from him, all gaiety gone
from her expression.
“No, I can’t. You said we would let a seaside cottage.”
“I did not mean it. We will do as all couples do. I won’t
have people thinking I don’t want to show off my bride.”
“No, I thought you understood I was never leaving Cornwall.
This is my home. I’m not going back to London.”
He leaned forward, bracing one arm on his knee and reaching
for her hands, now clutched in her lap. “Dearest, you can’t hide here forever.”
“I mean it, Seb. You might as well stop the carriage now.”
“You would rather I were just your lover rather than your
husband?”
“I won’t be forced to go back.”
“Are you afraid some old tabby will look at you funny?”
“You’ve never taken my feelings about this seriously.”
“It has only been a week, Grace. I don’t know all your
feelings about it. You haven’t shared.”
“I’m sharing now and I don’t want to go to London.”
“Or leave Cornwall.” He sat back and stared at her. “So the
choice is having you and never knowing the thrill of another London Season, no
gambling, no carousing and no racing. Or boxing.”
He meant it as somewhat of a joke but Grace was all
seriousness.
She didn’t answer, but her lips were pressed in a fine line.
He grinned at her. Yes, there were more than exterior scars
but he wasn’t making the mistake of thinking he could solve them all with a
week’s worth of beddings. “The choice is easy, Grace. You will be Lady Ridgley
but I’m only agreeing as long as you allow me plenty of candles in our
bedchamber.”
* * * * *
It took seven years to convince her.
Every spring, Sebastian made the overly long trip back to
London, leaving Grace and the ever-expanding brood of children so he could take
his place in the House of Lords.
Naturally he knew her aversion but that didn’t stop him from
asking. And he had asked each of the first five years. Those few months in
London alone were brutally difficult for a man who enjoyed his wife’s bed and
those amusements that could be found in a loving bond.
And the children. Well, he had not expected the emotional
hooks that burrowed into his heart and nearly killed him each time he had to
leave them.
He had not asked last year, feeling he could not bear her
sad look again.
When the seventh spring approached, Seb had been feeling
restless. Determined to do his duty as a lord and peer, he had not talked much
to Grace about his departure. Seemingly it was better to mount the steps to the
carriage and be off rather than postpone the inevitable emotional upheaval.
It had only occurred to him recently that Grace had myriad
reasons to hate the springtime and in London particularly. Hammond had scarred
her during the spring so naturally spring’s arrival would remind her of that
event and Hammond’s death.
Now Seb departed each spring, leaving her behind and
allowing her to wallow in the fact she could not bring herself to enjoy another
London Season with its fashions and gossip and general revelry. He was
seriously considering not going this year.
When she approached him in January… Well, approached was the
wrong word. They were lying in bed together, Grace having been needed in the
middle of the night to settle their youngest son, David James, causing them
both a moment of wide-eyed clarity at two in the morning. The candle she had
carried still burned on the nightstand.
Her head
Grace looked fetching in her silvery-blue dress and blue
accessories. She had a thick ribbon under her breasts that tied into a rather
large bow behind her, not that he could see it but she was sitting with a
straight back in the carriage seat, hoping not to crush the accoutrement.
Finally, his mistakes were being made right in this one
perfect decision.
“After our Continental wedding tour, I thought we should see
my mother before we return to London,” he said.
Her face paled and she turned away from him, all gaiety gone
from her expression.
“No, I can’t. You said we would let a seaside cottage.”
“I did not mean it. We will do as all couples do. I won’t
have people thinking I don’t want to show off my bride.”
“No, I thought you understood I was never leaving Cornwall.
This is my home. I’m not going back to London.”
He leaned forward, bracing one arm on his knee and reaching
for her hands, now clutched in her lap. “Dearest, you can’t hide here forever.”
“I mean it, Seb. You might as well stop the carriage now.”
“You would rather I were just your lover rather than your
husband?”
“I won’t be forced to go back.”
“Are you afraid some old tabby will look at you funny?”
“You’ve never taken my feelings about this seriously.”
“It has only been a week, Grace. I don’t know all your
feelings about it. You haven’t shared.”
“I’m sharing now and I don’t want to go to London.”
“Or leave Cornwall.” He sat back and stared at her. “So the
choice is having you and never knowing the thrill of another London Season, no
gambling, no carousing and no racing. Or boxing.”
He meant it as somewhat of a joke but Grace was all
seriousness.
She didn’t answer, but her lips were pressed in a fine line.
He grinned at her. Yes, there were more than exterior scars
but he wasn’t making the mistake of thinking he could solve them all with a
week’s worth of beddings. “The choice is easy, Grace. You will be Lady Ridgley
but I’m only agreeing as long as you allow me plenty of candles in our
bedchamber.”
* * * * *
It took seven years to convince her.
Every spring, Sebastian made the overly long trip back to
London, leaving Grace and the ever-expanding brood of children so he could take
his place in the House of Lords.
Naturally he knew her aversion but that didn’t stop him from
asking. And he had asked each of the first five years. Those few months in
London alone were brutally difficult for a man who enjoyed his wife’s bed and
those amusements that could be found in a loving bond.
And the children. Well, he had not expected the emotional
hooks that burrowed into his heart and nearly killed him each time he had to
leave them.
He had not asked last year, feeling he could not bear her
sad look again.
When the seventh spring approached, Seb had been feeling
restless. Determined to do his duty as a lord and peer, he had not talked much
to Grace about his departure. Seemingly it was better to mount the steps to the
carriage and be off rather than postpone the inevitable emotional upheaval.
It had only occurred to him recently that Grace had myriad
reasons to hate the springtime and in London particularly. Hammond had scarred
her during the spring so naturally spring’s arrival would remind her of that
event and Hammond’s death.
Now Seb departed each spring, leaving her behind and
allowing her to wallow in the fact she could not bring herself to enjoy another
London Season with its fashions and gossip and general revelry. He was
seriously considering not going this year.
When she approached him in January… Well, approached was the
wrong word. They were lying in bed together, Grace having been needed in the
middle of the night to settle their youngest son, David James, causing them
both a moment of wide-eyed clarity at two in the morning. The candle she had
carried still burned on the nightstand.
Her head
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