Claiming His Wife Read online

  "I forgot she was here," Alex said, chagrined, as he began to take off the rest of his clothing. "I'm so used to it being just us." The warm way he said it, and the almost loving look that accompanied the admission, made Grace's heart dance inside.

  "You'll have to get used to more of the servants being around," Grace said mildly. Brookeside required a much larger contingent of staff than the small house they'd stayed in when they were in Bath. Especially now that Grace was in residence. It wouldn't surprise her to know that, other than his valet, Alex rarely had to contend with servants inside his bedroom. But if he wanted Grace in his rooms, he was going to have to accustom himself to Rose being there as well, as well as some other maids.

  Grimacing, Alex stepped into the tub, lowering himself into the lukewarm water. "I suppose I will."

  Unlike Rose, Grace had no desire to look away from his long, lean body, enjoying the view as he began to scrub away the dirt of the road. However, there were still things to do.

  Sighing, she pulled on a simple day dress, one that she didn't need Rose or anyone else to help her with. Since they were at Brookeside and not expecting visitors, there was no need for her to dress up at all.

  "I'm going to go arrange dinner," she said, pulling her hair back in a simple tie. "I assume Mrs. Stewart is still in her position?" The housekeeper had been as efficient as a general in the army, Grace couldn't imagine Alex dismissing her.

  "Yes, and she'll be happy to see you," Alex said, his lips twisting into a wry smile. The older woman was starting to get on in years and, although she was quite practiced in her role, she'd been the first in the household to start pushing Alex to either collect his wife or get a new one. Surprisingly, she hadn't seemed to have a preference, although Alex had assumed she would be disapproving of Grace. Servants could sometimes be even more prudish than the upper classes when it came to scandal.

  He thought he heard Grace mutter something as she went out the door, but he couldn't quite make out what. If she was worried about her reception from the servants, she shouldn't be. Alex had prepared his staff, they all knew that he'd be bringing her home and that they should treat her with the respect due the lady of the house. He'd gotten the impression that most of them weren't resentful over her absence, just relieved that it was now being rectified and their household was finally going to become like any other.

  Just as soon as they had their talk.

  ******

  Grace had been tempted to stay and watch Alex bathe, but she also wasn't quite ready to give up the dreamy happiness that she'd found and ruin it with the discussion that she knew was coming. Once she confronted him about why he wanted to reconcile with her, things were going to change irrevocably, one way or another. She wasn't avoiding it exactly... but just putting it off, holding onto the illusion that everything was wonderful, if only for a little while.

  Doing something as normal and mundane as seeking out the housekeeper only added to that illusion of a happy husband and wife.

  "My lady," Mrs. Stewart said, as soon as she caught sight of Grace heading her way, immediately interrupting directions she'd been giving to a maid. Grace was surprised to see a look of pleasure on the older woman's face.

  Somewhere in her sixties, the steely-haired, sharp-eyed hawk of a housekeeper wasn't the type to put up with any nonsense. Part of the reason Grace had wanted to seek her out while Alex wasn't around was in case Mrs. Stewart wasn't very respectful. She knew very well that Alex wouldn't let the woman go, and so she'd hoped to have a private kind of confrontation, but from the welcoming expression on Mrs. Stewart's face, it appeared there wasn't going to be a confrontation at all. Maybe Alex hadn't been sarcastic when he'd said Mrs. Stewart would be happy to see her.

  "Mrs. Stewart," Grace said, trying to sound confident, although she could hear the slight hesitation in her voice. "If you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you about the menus for this week, now that Lord Brooke and I are here."

  "Very good, my lady," Mrs. Stewart said, giving a nod of approval as if Grace was a young student who had just said something clever. Looking at the maid, Mrs. Stewart waved her hand. "Go on girl, just don't let me find a speck of dust anywhere or you'll regret it."

  The maid bobbed a curtsy to both of the ladies before rushing off, looking both determined and worried. Mrs. Stewart's standards were incredibly high.

  "Would you like to sit in the yellow room?" Mrs. Stewart asked, although it sounded more like a firm suggestion than a true question. Grace couldn't help but smile, rather astounded that Mrs. Stewart remembered her preference for that small but cheery room. She was also aware that she was being herded into the "proper role" of lady of the house by the housekeeper.

  But she much preferred that over being met with accusing eyes, recriminations, resentment or disrespect.

  Mrs. Stewart was prepared, not that Grace expected anything less. They spent the next hour in the yellow room, at one of the small tables, going over the purchases Mrs. Stewart had made in advance of the Brookes' arrival and devising menus for the week from it. Something that she had done quite often on her own, but now she was thinking about Alex too. Remembering his preferences, his dislikes. And Mrs. Stewart dropped several helpful hints along the way when Grace's memory failed her.

  The housekeeper also filled Grace in on the state of the house, the number of servants currently employed, her recommendations about what linens needed to be replaced and what rooms needed to be looked at. When Grace asked about the bedroom usually reserved for the lady of the house, Mrs. Stewart coughed delicately and said that the lord had decreed it was not to be opened up for any reason. She looked slightly scandalized as she said it, which nearly made Grace giggle.

  Apparently her own scandalous behavior was going to be forgiven, but the staff was still a bit taken aback by the sleeping arrangements. After all, it just wasn't done. Of course, neither was deserting one's husband without giving him an heir. She was glad that Mrs. Stewart wasn't holding a grudge, but sometimes she just didn't understand the way the staff viewed things.

  "I think that's it," Mrs. Stewart said cheerfully, gathering her papers back up. "Thank you for your time, my lady. It's good to have you back where you belong."

  The words were said perfectly respectfully, but at the same time carried subtext indicating that Grace had better fulfill her duties as Lady Brooke or Mrs. Stewart would have something to say about it. Grace nodded her head to indicate understanding. Perhaps she should call Mrs. Stewart on her implied directive, but she was too relieved it wasn't worse. Housekeepers of Mrs. Stewart's quality were coveted by the ton. Certain positions within a household were much harder to fill than others, and Mrs. Stewart was an exemplary member of her kind. It was the same reason Grace had ultimately decided to keep Rose on as her lady's maid, finding and training a new lady's maid would be difficult, and other than working for Alex, Rose was a wonderful lady's maid.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Stewart," she murmured, keeping her face composed. It wouldn't do to show her amusement or her relief. The housekeeper probably wouldn't consider it proper.

  To Grace's surprise, Peters slipped in the door just after Mrs. Stewart slipped out. For a moment they just stared at each other. The man she'd trusted to keep her safe, whom she'd occasionally confided in, the one and only man that had stood by her through all the years she'd been apart from Alex. The only man she'd allowed herself to rely on in any way.

  No wonder it had hurt so much when he'd let Alex in the door.

  "Hello Peters," she said, softly, her voice heavy with resignation. The bitterness, the anger was gone, as she understood that she'd been let down by yet another man in her life. But then again, had she really? Peters must have known Alex's plan. Perhaps he even thought he'd been doing the best thing for her.

  "My lady," Peters said, just as softly. There was remorse on his usually inexpressive face, which made her feel a bit better. The ton might have referred to Alex as "stone face" because of his usual lack of expression, but her h
usband had nothing on a well-trained butler. "Would it be possible for me to have a moment of your time?"

  Such a request was unprecedented. Some bitter, petty part of Grace wanted to deny him, to lash back at him for hurting her, but she pushed it down as unworthy. Just a month ago, she probably would have ignored the small voice inside of her head to let him speak. She hadn't cared much for anyone's pain or feelings but her own, and only her closest friends had escaped that indifference. Although, even there, she'd had a waspish tongue as well. It shamed her to think of how poorly she'd occasionally treated Eleanor, who had stood by her side anyway. She wanted to be a better person now. In fact, she felt as though she already was. Even if it turned out Alex just wanted an heir or needed her for a business deal, Grace didn't want to be that bitterly unhappy person that she'd turned into.

  "That's fine, Peters, come on in," she said, doing her best to keep her voice even.

  Standing across the table from her, hands at his sides, he looked a bit like he was facing a firing squad. It was almost enough to make her smile, but the very serious expression on his face helped her keep her own in check.

  "I just wanted to apologize, my lady," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I didn't get a chance to before you left. Although I had no choice but to follow my lord's orders and keep his involvement in your staff a secret, I want you to know that I never bore you any ill will and I would have never done anything to upset you if it had been in my power."

  Studying the earnest expression on his face, Grace felt another little crack in her heart heal. Peters was an amazing butler, and he truly had done everything he could to keep anyone from upsetting her. She never thought that he'd meant to hurt her, it was just an inevitability that the men she trusted hurt her. Although, unlike Alex and her father, Peters had done his best, within his limitations. Unfortunately, Alex just happened to be one of those limitations.

  "Lord Brooke is a good man, my family has been with his for years," Peters continued, after pausing for a moment to see if she would respond. "My instructions, when he first asked me to seek a post with you, were to ensure that you never came to any harm and to protect you from the gossipmongers."

  "Not to keep out my lovers?" Grace asked, arching one eyebrow. It was a question that had crossed her mind more than once, when she'd allowed her thoughts to dwell on the past and Alex's sudden attitude reversal.

  Peters hesitated, and she was fascinated to see a slight blush creep into his cheeks. "Lord Brooke never gave me any instruction about ah... male visitors," he said, his head tipping back slightly and she had the impression that he was putting his nose in the air. "And, if you'll excuse my frankness, I thought that perhaps such visitors might jolt him into admitting to the fraudulent nature of his own affairs. I didn't realize it would cause further pain on both your parts when I first made my decision to tell him that your flirtations were nothing but flirtations."

  "Fraudulent nature?" Grace repeated, trying to understand what Peters was saying.

  "Why, yes, I assume his lordship..." Peters' voice tapered off as if realizing that perhaps his assumption about his lordship was just as incorrect this time as it had been the last. "I think perhaps I should let you speak to his lordship first."

  "Oh no you don't," Grace glared up at him, pointing her finger accusingly, as she fell back into the pattern of speaking easily and frankly with Peters. They had been together long enough that she didn't often stand on ceremony with him when they were alone. "You owe me. Exactly what about Alex's affairs was fraudulent?"

  After shifting his weight back and forth, looking increasingly uncomfortable, Peters blew out a long breath of air. Unlike Grace, he seemed to be clinging to the proper respect between servant and mistress, perhaps to create the emotional distance he needed to answer her.

  "Although Lord Brooke didn't give me any specific orders regarding male visitors to your household, he did initially ask for reports on your guests. When he became aware that none of your flirtations were... ah... serious, he decided to embark upon his own. Um, I believe with the intention of making you jealous. To my knowledge, he did not obtain a true mistress until after I had to report your first overnight guest."

  Grace's jaw dropped for several reasons. The first being that Alex had cared enough to keep such close tabs on her when she'd initially left him, even as he'd given her the space she'd demanded. Although the presence of his servants in her household had intimated as much, she'd still struggled with the idea that he hadn't just left her completely alone. The second was the knowledge that Alex's first mistress hadn't been anything more than a prop.

  That bitch!

  That bastard!

  When Grace had first left him, heart-broken and crushed, she'd found her self-confidence again in the admiration from other men. Perhaps her husband hadn't cared about her, hadn't valued her as anything but part of a business transaction, but other men found her beautiful and appealing. So she'd flirted. Part of her had even hoped that maybe Alex would come to her, maybe he'd realize that she was worth something for herself. She hadn't actively thought about making him jealous, but that was part of it, she was sure... but the main part had been reassuring herself that she was a beautiful and desirable woman, one who was worth more to men than just her father's money.

  Then whispers had come to her that Alex had a mistress, Lady Clarissa Heathmore. A beautiful, tall, icy blonde with dark, haunting eyes. Grace's opposite in every way.

  Lady Clarissa had cornered Grace in the retiring room at a ball, mocking her for being unable to keep her husband's attentions, inferring that he'd abandoned Grace rather than the other way round. She'd praised Alex's prowess in bed and told Grace not to expect to return to it any time soon.

  One woman is as good as another.

  With his choice of Lady Clarissa as his mistress, Grace thought that he'd proven those words. Because if he was content with such a harpy gracing his bed, then he must truly not care what woman gave him pleasure. She'd chosen her very first lover that night, and been lucky that the rake was eager to please her and fully lived up to his reputation. The next morning Grace had had a few regrets, but they were all emotional, not physical, and all of them had easily been dismissed when she'd remembered Lady Clarissa's taunts.

  They hadn't been true. Grace was fully willing to believe Peters over that lying tart.

  But for Alex to choose such a woman... what the hell had he been thinking? Had he taken Clarissa into his confidence? Told him that he wanted Grace jealous? Encouraged her?

  "My lady? My lady, please!" The alarm in Peters' voice finally drew Grace's attention, and she realized that she was standing, fists clenched at her side, fairly quivering with rage.

  That blasted bastard. She was going to gut him.

  Chapter 15

  When the door to his study flew open, Alex jumped in surprise and looked up to see his wife stalking into the room like an avenging fury, Peters hovering over her shoulder looking distraught. Tension gripped him. What the hell could Peters have told her to make her look like this?

  Her eyes blazed with rage, cheeks flushed, bosom heaving. If he didn't feel sick to his stomach, worrying about what had gone wrong, he might have been aroused by the picture she presented.

  "You bastard."

  Alex opened his mouth - although he wasn't sure whether he was going to protest, ask what she was talking about, or scold her for her language, but it didn't matter because he didn't get a chance to say anything anyway.

  "You utter bastard. Lady Clarissa Heathmore? Lady Clarissa Heathmore? Of all the back-stabbing, mealy-mouthed, three-penny uprights, you had to choose her to try and make me jealous?! Do you have any idea how awful she was to me?"

  He nearly choked at Grace's description, which was all too true, but he hadn't realized she knew that bit of slang. She shouldn't have even known what a three-penny upright was, much less be able to use it in a fairly correct context. The women who procured their clientele from the streets would take a man to a
back alley for three pennies and have him right up against the wall... not something a delicate flower of the ton should have even passing knowledge of.

  Obviously Grace and Peters had been having a bit of a talk. He should have spoken with the butler beforehand and warned him that, although things looked well enough from the outside between himself and his wife, they hadn't actually discussed any details from their past yet. Peters knew far too much of what Alex had done and why. He'd never betrayed that trust either, until now. Apparently his allegiance belonged even more firmly to Grace than Alex had realized.

  "Grace, let me explain - " he started to say, and then ducked, as she shrieked wordlessly at him, throwing the pen she was holding in her hand at his head.

  She wasn't done though.

  After one horrified look, Peters quickly closed the door to the room. Alex knew he could count on the man to keep the other servants away, so that they wouldn't be privy to overhearing the scene that was about to commence in here. He ducked again as Grace launched a decorative vase at his head, growling when it shattered against the far wall.

  "Stop that!"

  "Bugger off! You... you... nodcock! Bastard! Did you and she laugh together about fooling me? Did you tell her to spread all those rumors?"

  Ducking yet another flung object at his head - Alex couldn't even tell what she'd picked up off the shelf - he practically charged her. She was so overwrought she was practically hysterical, he didn't think she even realized there were tears rolling down her cheeks. It was breaking his heart.

  He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her, and she immediately started struggling against him.

  "Grace, stop it! Of course I didn't! As soon as I heard what she was telling people, I refuted her!"

  "Too late!" she shrieked, kicking at his ankles, struggling harder against him, trying to scratch at him. It felt like all the pain, all the anger, was raging inside of her like an inferno, driving her mad, and she was going to pop if she didn't find some way of venting it. "And the Baroness was just as bad!"