head in a hopeless nod. ‘I see. Well. Poor Papa has been taken to Fleet Prison in London. He is completely innocent of all charges, of course, but he is accused of making fraudulent investments, running up debts and any number of financial indiscretions actually performed by his dishonest business partners. He has been declared bankrupt in his absence.’
Mrs Dauntsey’s lips parted in frank disbelief. ‘That cannot be so! Surely nobody could be so stupid as to believe your father capable of such actions?’ She pressed a hand to her thin chest, clearly shocked to the core. ‘Such a thing is impossible. Your father was always such a gentleman! Where are the real perpetrators, who allow him to be exposed to these lies?’
‘They have fled, cowards that they are. Without their testimony there is nobody to take the blame but Papa, even though the first he knew of this whole affair was when the bailiffs came knocking at our door.’
Grace looked down at her hands, fingers clenched into fists and knuckles shining white through pale skin. ‘As I’m sure you can imagine, our standing in society is now lower than dirt. I had hoped my fiancé would help us in our plight, but now...’ Her lips trembled again and she folded them into a tight line of unhappiness that made Spencer’s own twitch in unconscious reply. ‘We have no prospects, no fortune, and with four daughters to support Mama faces the likelihood of having to give up our home.’ She finished on a dry sob and clenched her jaw shut so firmly Spencer saw the tendons of her neck flex painfully.
There was a silence.
Standing before the fireplace, Spencer felt the warmth of the flames creeping up his back, although nothing could chase away the chilly dread that flared within his gut. It was a feeling close to sympathy that circled inside him, startlingly insistent and refusing to be dismissed. The sight of Grace’s tears spoke to something in him, some aggravating weakness that he had thought his studied apathy for the world had killed off—but there it was, the desire to wipe away her tears, and the suffering in her look called to his own in a language he understood only too well.
The quiet stretched on for several moments, only the movement of Grace absently stirring her tea breaking the illusion all three were carved from stone. It almost made him jump when his mother cleared her throat and spoke with businesslike directness.
‘Well. As I see it, there’s an obvious solution; at least in part.’
Mrs Dauntsey glanced towards Spencer and he cocked his head in wordless query.
What scheme has she come up with?
Unease began to filter into his mind and he felt his eyes narrow in suspicion.
If his mother saw his cautious reaction, she gave no clue. ‘I will, of course, employ you as my companion.’ She fixed Grace with a forthright gaze, oblivious to Spencer’s start of alarm. ‘You can come to live here and I will meet all your expenses. With only the three younger girls to support, I’m sure your excellent mama will more than rise to the challenge.’
Watching with disbelieving eyes, Spencer saw Grace’s mouth drop open, all words stolen from her by utter surprise.
‘You cannot be serious?’
‘As the grave. It would be a joy to have you about the house and renew the friendship between our families. If you came to live here, it would surely ease some of the financial strain, and Spencer wouldn’t feel obliged to waste his time attempting small talk to entertain his aged mother. After all—’ Mrs Dauntsey shot him another look that made his insides twist ‘—your dear mother and sisters are likely to be the only company I’ll have to enjoy, given the circumstances.’
Spencer sucked in a sharp breath of dismay, covered by an abrupt turn away from both women and towards the hearth.
The very last thing he wanted was for Grace to take up residence in his home, her disconcerting effect on him already becoming an irritation he could have done without. It was bad enough he had felt that damned glimmer of something for her already, without the dangers of having to see her admittedly not unpretty face across his breakfast table every morning. If only there was something he could say, something he could do to dissuade his mother from this plan—but one quick glance backwards pricked at his conscience. His already tainted reputation would have long-reaching effects, the rumours of his temper unlikely to be forgotten. Perhaps there might be some small glint of merit in her scheme—although mingled with the threat of unseen complications for himself.
‘But I could be getting ahead of myself. You might be hoping your fiancé will return to you?’
The shake of Grace’s head was the most vehement movement Spencer had seen her make yet. ‘Henry would never seek my hand again. I wish I’d known before what I now see so clearly: he never wanted anything from me other than my wealth and connections. As soon as I had neither his interest vanished at once. He never—he never truly loved me.’ She gave a small sigh, a wretched thing that nipped at Spencer uncomfortably. ‘The details of our separation will be forgotten soon enough, I am sure. The only thing I wish to remember with any clarity is never to venture my heart in such a way ever again. The risk to one’s soul is too great.’
It was as though she had read his mind, Spencer recognised with a frown of surprise as Grace took another sip from her cup. It was the same conclusion he had come to as he sat within the belly of a storm-tossed ship returning to England, bandages staunching the flow of his blood and pain from more than just his wounds making him want to cry out in agony. Constance had been the first woman to capture his heart and his actions because of it had cost him dearly—he would not be caught out twice. How the pale young lady who had claimed his chair had managed to so exactly articulate his own feelings he didn’t know—only that it was almightily unnerving.
‘My only hesitation in accepting your kind offer would be my reputation.’ A rosy blush spread across Grace’s cheeks as she continued, the colour illuminating the delicate lines of her cheekbones and jaw that Spencer suddenly realised—with another pang of dismay—were very fine indeed. ‘I couldn’t bring disgrace upon this house and allow you to be connected to our shame.’
Mrs Dauntsey waved a dismissive hand, although Spencer could have sworn he saw a glint of irony in her eye.
It wouldn’t be only Grace who made this house notorious. Isn’t that what you’re thinking, Mother?
She’d been too frail to leave the house and hear the whispers about him first-hand, but she was no fool. Anybody who had ever walked among the judgement of the ton knew how they could drag a man down with their words, destroying his good name in the blink of an eye if they thought him undeserving.
‘I couldn’t care three straws about that. Society busybodies will always find something to talk about. I don’t see what anybody else’s opinion has to do with it—and that’s my final word!’
She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes briefly. Her chest rose and fell a little more quickly than usual, Spencer saw in swift alarm—she was tiring rapidly, and very soon she would be worn out completely.
She needs to rest. This has been too much excitement.
Whatever his thoughts on the matter, now was not the time for further discussion. His mother’s colour had already ebbed a little and her breaths bordered on laboured as she smiled across at Grace apologetically.
‘I tire so easily these days. I ought to be taking to my chamber now.’ She paused for a moment to regain her breath. ‘But before I do, may we shake on our arrangement? If you are agreeable, of course?’
Spencer concealed his uneasiness behind one large hand, rubbing the dark bristles of his chin. Grace appeared to be hesitating, obviously turning the words over in her mind—but then she extended her hand and his mother took it firmly.
‘I can’t thank you enough, Mrs Dauntsey.’ Grace’s voice shook, but this time the tremor seemed of awed relief rather than bleak emotion. ‘You will never know how grateful I am for your help.’
‘It’s time you called me Dorothea