Page 95 of The Miracle of Love
She was not weeping but looked quite miserable. “Why did you knock? I would never bar our door to you.”
“I know, love. I simply did not want to charge in like a regimental cavalry.” He opened his arms to her and she did not hesitate to fly into them. “The truth was bound to come out eventually. There is no harm in revealing it to the Hydes.”
She nodded. “Yes, all the deception felt…”
“Awful?”
“But how can I face them now that they know?”
“They are not going to say anything. Mrs. Hyde thinks it is the most romantic thing she’s ever heard, my falling in love with the woman I was charged to protect.”
“You were charged to find that crown.”
He shook his head and laughed softly. “I did not tell them that part and you should not either. It may require divulging information that is still sensitive and meant to be kept secret. Besides, most people are not interested in the political intrigue.”
“They want the romance?”
“Yes, love. And we’ve provided plenty of it.” He cupped a finger under her chin. “We’ll leave for Scotland tomorrow and be married by next week. From that moment on, you will have the protection of my name and the support of my entire family. In truth, you already have their support. I’m sure they like you better than they like me.”
She smiled despite her reluctance to be put in good humor. “They must adore you as I do. All right, I will try my best to develop a thicker hide. It just might take me a while.”
“You are soft and sweet. I would not want you any other way. But it destroys me to see you hurting.”
“It isn’t your fault and there is little you can do about it for the moment. I will be fine. I don’t mind that the Hydes know the truth. They are kind people and it hurt me to lie to them. So, no more fake names. You are Deklan Quinton and I am Grace Montford. No more lying to the Hydes, the shopkeepers, or our neighbors.”
“Grace, you are not chaperoned. We need to keep up the pretense of marriage until I can legitimately claim you as my wife. So do not start running to the Bramsons or the dressmaker and pouring out a confession. The Hydes know, but it is no one else’s business.”
She nodded. “I wasn’t going to do anything so foolish. All I meant was that I would not hide from the truth if it came out, especially not deceive good people. I would love to shout it from the rooftop, but I won’t. Instead, I will do no more than hop about quietly in our bedchamber and cheer.”
“All right.” He kissed her on the nose. “So long as you keep your hops in here for now.”
“Does this mean I am not allowed out yet at all? Not even for a discreet celebration? I love this house. It is the most beautiful house in all of England, but I am going to scream if I stay hidden inside another moment. Can we not even take a walk?”
“I have a better idea. But here are my terms. I shall give my real name if asked, but we must keep up the pretense of you as my wife. You are Grace Quinton. I will not budge on that requirement. All right?”
“You will have no objection from me. Yes, as your wife. Where are you taking me?”
“The Pavilion Hotel. Their tea room ought to be fairly quiet on a Monday afternoon in winter and I hear they serve an excellent tea.”
“Sounds lovely.” She reached up on tiptoes and kissed him with touching innocence.
Several hours later, he wished to be anywhere but in that tea room.
Had he thought it was a good idea?
Seemed The Fates were conspiring against him.
Having spent almost a month worried about foreign agents stealing Grace away, he did not expect to encounter a more vicious nemesis here.
He could protect Grace against those foreign agents, for he had the prowess to defend her from physical attack. Threats from shooting or stabbing were nothing to him. Throwing punches and watching a villain fall to his knees was commonplace in his line of work.
But how was he to protect Grace from the wrath of Lady Genevieve de Clare, the woman he had courted and might have married had he not had second thoughts and run away as fast as his legs would carry him?
She was marching straight toward them as they sat in the Pavilion Hotel’s tea room, a vindictive gleam in her eyes. “Oh, hell.”
He and Grace were to leave for Scotland first thing in the morning. Why had he not simply kept her hidden for another day?
Until this moment, they were enjoying their elegant tea. The chef was renowned, and even though the hotel drew an elegant crowd, those who remained in winter were mostly on the fringes of society and no threat to Grace.
