the sudden sorrow there only enhancing the fine lines of her face, and that look flew straight to the most vulnerable part of Spencer’s soul. How much had his mother told her of his twin’s too-early demise? Not even Dorothea knew the whole story, of course, or that Constance had even existed—his shame would never allow it—and the nightmares that stalked him whenever he slept would ensure he never forgot. No doubt Grace would flee from him if she ever knew the truth—but wouldn’t he deserve that, for the damage his stupid actions had done?
He cleared his throat, although his voice, when he managed to force out the words, still sounded a trifle strangled.
‘I hadn’t thought you’d be in here.’
Grace started, closing the book with a guilty snap.
‘I didn’t hear you come in.’ She unfurled herself hurriedly and slipped off the chair, although she didn’t relinquish the book as she stood before him, looking for all the world as though she wished she was anywhere else.
Spencer frowned, horribly aware of an awkward silence descending on the room. Perhaps once he would have been able to fill it with banal small talk, but now all he could think of was how strangely pleasing the tilt of Grace’s chin was as she looked up at him, tapering to a gentle point he had no way of knowing she hated.
That was yet another thought he shouldn’t be allowing and it was a relief when Grace was the one to break the rising tension between them.
‘I was just looking through this anthology of poems. Some of them are really quite beautiful.’ She paused, apparently weighing up her next words. Spencer realised his jaw had tightened as he willed her not to speak them, but his wordless entreaty was in vain as she continued, a shadow of sympathy in her grey eyes he suddenly couldn’t bear. ‘I saw William’s name written in the cover, along with a dedication from your father. I don’t think I ever told you how sorry I was for the loss of Mr Dauntsey, or for Will. You must miss them so fiercely. How have you fared these past years?’
The muscles in Spencer’s throat contracted like a vice.
Of all the questions she could have asked. How have I fared?
Of course he missed his father. The senior Captain Dauntsey had been a warm, compassionate man devoted to his wife and sons and his passing had plunged them all into mourning so deep Spencer had privately known his mother would never truly recover, even after eight long years. There was no guilt, though—Richard Dauntsey had died of a weak heart in his own bed, surrounded by his family in his final moments. William had perished in a foreign land, bleeding in the mud and never knowing how much Spencer regretted the final angry words between them. There could be no comparison and Spencer knew his reply would be harsh before he even opened his mouth.
‘That isn’t something I wish to discuss.’ He saw how Grace blinked at the coldness of his tone and felt an immediate—and uncomfortable—twinge of remorse, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her draw him in. There was already something about Grace that called to him, some reflection of his own suffering he saw in her stormy gaze. The imprisonment of her father, the loss of her reputation and finally her fiancé: it was no wonder she so often wore a cloak of sadness valiantly concealed beneath a stiff smile. Her stoicism was admirable—and that admiration was growing more dangerous by the minute.
‘You have enough troubles of your own, surely, to want to know more of mine. Your time would be better spent thinking of yours than questioning others.’
As soon as the words slipped out Spencer knew they’d been cruel. The sympathy in Grace’s face slowly merged into a look of such quiet unhappiness Spencer felt a kick of powerful regret, so swift it was like a blow to the gut.
Damn you and your barbed tongue. That was unkind.
Grace’s reply was soft, yet so steady it stirred the ashes of Spencer’s worrying admiration even more. ‘My troubles are never far from my mind, I assure you. There’s scarcely a moment Papa is not in my thoughts, but I know he wouldn’t want me to surrender to despair.’
He shouldn’t have rubbed salt in her wounds, Spencer knew, reminding her how all her hopes for the future had turned to dust and what she was now reduced to. The proof was in the way her pretty lips twitched as though fighting the urge to turn down at the corners, all caused by his thoughtless remark born of fear she might see through his defensive façade to the damaged man within.
Internally he muttered something unfit for the ears of a lady, in equal parts dismayed by Grace’s sorrow and his part in causing it, as well as how much he wished to take away her pain.
Make the effort, man. She’s been the best medicine for Mother you ever could have wished for and that matters more than any feelings of your own.
He swallowed, a forced convulsion of his tight throat that made it no easier to find the right words.
‘That was unfair. I shouldn’t have spoken so hastily, or with so little care. I apologise.’
Grace gazed at Spencer for a long moment, not entirely sure how to respond.
Her heart still raced at his unexpected entrance to the library, interrupting her solitude with the presence she still wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. During the two weeks she had spent under Spencer’s roof his transformation from open warmth to icy cold had turned Grace’s ordered world on its head, and she had frequently found herself at a loss for words at some of his behaviour. His chaotic approach to life coupled with the unfortunate galloping of her pulse every time she found herself in the same room meant she did her best to avoid him, but on some occasions he was unavoidable—as he was now, standing in front of her and looking so sincere she felt her heart shudder over a missed beat in the most unsettling manner possible.
Her reaction to his scrutiny was one she resolutely did not want, too similar to the flash of heat Henry had always managed to send thrilling through her with the touch of his hand. It seemed Spencer was able to achieve that same sensation without even making contact with her skin, a realisation that made Grace’s insides twist in keen dismay.
But you needn’t worry. You’re on your guard now and no such vulnerability will be allowed to take hold of you ever again.
If the rich darkness of Spencer’s eyes was something Grace had noticed, she would disregard it at once. Henry’s had been just as fine, although sapphire where Spencer’s were the colour of sweet cocoa... Either way, girlish weakness for such a trivial thing was something Grace would not entertain, especially when those eyes were set in the face of a man surely capable of wreaking untold damage on any woman foolish enough to fall for him. She should be congratulating herself on her own good sense in realising it, Grace thought determinedly—but Spencer still watched her with an expression she had never seen before, standing close enough for her to just catch the clean scent of his shaving soap, and despite her resolve she would have to admit it was pleasing.
He had never before looked at her with anything warmer than faint disapproval at her continued presence in his house and she couldn’t help the dangerous pleasure that shivered through her insides at the new lack of censure in his gaze. It was replaced by a ghost of real remorse, as honest as it was surprising and adding fuel to the new colour that simmered in Grace’s cheeks. With his face no longer darkened by the grim shadows that usually cloaked it he looked so much younger, more human somehow, far removed from the sullen man she was still unable to fully understand and more like the lad she used to think she knew...
Grace attempted a small smile, desperately trying to make it seem natural and not the rigid thing she feared was spreading over her face. ‘Think nothing of it. We all say things we regret from time to time.’
The only response was a curt nod, although Grace thought she caught a glint of faint relief. It vanished again almost instantaneously and she determined there and then she wouldn’t waste a single moment trying to decipher what it meant. There