Page 46 of Romancing the Scot
Before either of them could say anything more, Grace’s attention was drawn to the sound of young voices behind them. Turning around, he saw nearly a dozen children of various ages running through the field with a maid in pursuit.
Grace waved back as couple of small girls shouted greetings at them.
“Who are they? Where did they come from?”
He motioned to the tower house, only partly visible through the trees. “That’s where they live. Heading for the loch, I should think. There’s a particularly nasty marsh below where we walked that has more frogs than one can count.”
“They all live up there?”
“All of them.” He counted them. “I believe the two youngest ones are missing.”
She smiled, turning around and watching them disappear one after another into the trees.
“They can’t all be siblings. They look too close in age.”
“My sister can answer all your questions. That’s the tower house I told you about. It’s Jo and Violet’s project.”
She was still smiling when she looked up at him.
“And that,” he said, gesturing toward the departing children. “That is the best of the Borders.”
Chapter 15
Could she possibly last for a week?
From her window, Grace absently watched three workers clipping the deep green box hedges lining one of the garden walls. As Anna bustled about the room behind her, Grace tried to convince herself that Mrs. Douglas had not recognized her. She remembered the woman, but there was little reason Lady Nithsdale’s guest should recall meeting her. After all, six years had passed. Thousands of people had attended the ceremony and the receptions that followed. Hundreds of introductions had been exchanged. With all the fanfare and opulence of the day, she hoped her face had not distinguished itself from the crowd. The possibility was so slight.
The christening had involved the most memorable splendor of the decade, second to the coronation. Grace still remembered the ceremony like it was yesterday.
Paris.The procession of carriages traveled from the Tuileries Palace to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, along roads lined with the Imperial guard and troops from the garrison. The crowds shouted and applauded for each carriage as it passed, and a thrill coursed through Grace even now at the memory. The barouche she rode in was three ahead of the royal couple, for she’d been given the tremendous honor of joining thedames du palaisin the entourage of ladies carrying the queen’s train, a distinction owing to her father’s valor and service. As the emperor and his wife and infant son came into sight of the multitude, the joyous cheers and cries of “Vive le Roi de Rome!” that went up were loud enough to have been heard in Calais.
The ceremony at the cathedral was filled with the voices of choirs, and the cardinal himself sang theVeni Creator.And when Napoleon took the child from the empress and held him aloft twice, those assembled in the ancient church raised their voices as one in adulation.
The day resided in her memory like a dream. Grace recalled feeling like some ethereal spirit chosen to spend a day in a fairy tale. The spectacle, the cheers, the momentous significance of the event she’d been chosen to participate in, had been almost too much to fathom. She felt she was floating among the golden gods of Olympus itself.
It was after the ceremony at the cathedral, when the emperor and his entourage repaired to the Hôtel de Ville for the celebrations, that she’d been introduced to so many guests and diplomats, including several members of the English contingent. Because official diplomatic relations had been severed between the two countries, very few were in attendance from England. Unfortunately, Mrs. Douglas was there with her husband, a high-ranking member of Parliament. What Grace remembered most vividly about the introduction was the couple’s icy response to her father. Grace could almost feel the Englishman’s reaction to the proud Irish military man, a renegade subject, honored by the French emperor for his contributions fighting the British in Spain and Portugal. Daniel Ware was bound to draw their attention and their displeasure.
A chill washed through her. The chance of the two of them coming face-to-face after so many years was so minute, and yet it had happened. Mrs. Douglas had not changed much since their introduction. Grace was older; perhaps the years had made a difference. The woman’s sharp eyes had not wavered from her face at all. Today, Mrs. Douglas did not acknowledge knowing her, but the risk still existed that the memory of that day in Paris would return when she had a chance to think it through.
Grace tried to quell her panic as she changed into a day dress before Anna went away. There was nothing she could do about it but wait. She had no means of leaving Baronsford unless the viscount agreed to change their arrangement. He’d been clearly disappointed when she suggested it was time for her to leave. His regret was only a fraction of the sadness she felt in her heart. She had become drawn to him so quickly.
Stepping into the sitting room, she wandered to the open windows and then raised her face to the soft breeze. She burned, even now, at the memory of their kiss. The pressure of his mouth undid her. The taste of him, the feel of his hard body pressed against hers, making her wish for more. Never had she felt as alive as she did during those few moments in his arms.
And then small talk. Diversion. She’d tried her best to recover from the impact of their passionate encounter. She wanted that kiss again. She ached for his touch. She wanted him. But after their chance meeting with the neighboring ladies, the hot passion of those moments transformed into the chill she could not shake. She’d said very little for the rest of their walk back to Baronsford.
The nagging question wouldn’t go away. What would happen if Mrs. Douglas remembered?
As a clock chimed noon somewhere in the house, noises on the path below her window drew Grace’s attention. Workers were going by and exchanging greetings with the gardeners. One of the passing men was the blacksmith Darby. He and two helpers were heading toward the stables area, pushing a damaged plowshare on a wheel barrow. Hugh told her when they parted earlier that he’d be meeting with the blacksmith this afternoon to work on his balloon preparations.
Hugh had seen to it that Darby was freed after being wrongfully jailed. Even as a highly respected lord justice and master of Baronsford, he’d freely accepted the validity of her reproach regarding the law. Hugh Pennington wasn’t the man she’d initially thought he would be.
And Grace was a different person today from four days ago when she decided she needed to lie to them. She now knew what kind of people Hugh and Jo were. She understood their compassion. She saw the kindhearted generosity that was their way of life. But the question facing her now was whether she trusted them enough to reveal the truth. She pictured herself telling them all of it. With regard to the diamond, she honestly had no knowledge of it hidden in her dress. Butshouldshe?
Better sooner than later, she thought. Knowing him as she did now, Grace was certain Hugh was not a man who would see her punished for circumstances that were out of her control. He wouldn’t penalize a daughter over the choices of her father.
In the end it came down to this. Was she courageous or was she cowardly? Could she face him and confess? Or should she hide and wait and escape to Antwerp in a week?
A soft tap on the open sitting room door roused her, and she turned to see Jo coming in. Two servants followed, each carrying trays.
