Page 89 of Lady Graceless
Montclave felt as if his head would explode. He entered Doanellen’s house and ignored Mrs. Featherby lounging round the drawing room. He jogged up the stairs and closed the door behind him. It felt as if the dogs were on his heels.
He fumbled with his cases until he found what he was looking for. A bottle of laudanum. He drank down a large swig, washed it down with brandy, and got in bed. He pulled the covers over his head.
He would stay there until somebody dragged him out.
*
GRACE SMILED DOWNthe dining table. The afternoon had been merry indeed. Felicity and Stratton had joined them in the drawing room and now everybody who’d been present for the news of the proposal had stayed on for dinner. Even Lady Marchfield, who was having a time of it deciding if she were pleased over the engagement or aggravated that there was no butler in the house.
Earlier, Grace and Dashlend had used the ridiculous excuse of a sought-after book in the library to slip off for a half hour, or was it longer? The library had the advantage of a loveseat located in an alcove and Grace laid in his arms, careful not to press on his ribs, as they spoke of their future.
Dashlend was keen to wed as soon as possible, but then the practicalities of his condition did give them pause. It was decided that they would at least wait until he could walk, and then they might take a wedding trip wherever they liked.
Wherever they liked was a question that took some thought. Then, it came to Grace like a bolt of lightning from the heavens. There was only one place they should go.
“We ought to return to Hull to see how your boat gets on. If it is fully repaired, perhaps we could go sailing somewhere.”
Dashlend had peered down at her. “That sounds like the sort of thing a very considerate fiancée would suggest to her boat-mad fiancé. I insist we go somewhere you would enjoy.”
Grace sat up a little. “I think I would enjoy it, though. This will sound strange, but I am always less clumsy when I am on something that is moving. Also, you might as well know now—I sometimes jump up and down to make myself steadier.”
“Do you really?” Dashlend asked.
“Indeed, it is my terrible secret.”
“Jump away, my love. And if you really want to try sailing, I suggest we hug the coast and stay at inns overnight.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Now, at dinner, they had flouted the physician’s insistence that Dashlend not sit at table, though they did make some adjustments. His sprained ankle was carefully placed on a stool underneath the table to keep it elevated.
“Well now,” the duke said, “another daughter unloaded and five more to go—my dream is within reach!”
Lady Marchfield frowned, though Grace could not think why. It was not as if she’d never heard the duke express that particular wish—he’d said it dozens of times.
Valor giggled. “He always says that, but I’m not going anywhere for a long time. Maybe never!”
The duke ignored this threat. “Where will you be off to?” he asked Grace. “Felicity and Stratton went to Scotland for their wedding trip.”
“And survived it too,” Felicity said, laughing.
Mr. Stratton nodded. “A tip, Dashlend—wherever you go, do not allow your wife to sit on a dock in full sun with nothing to drink for six hours and expect everything to be rosy.”
“A minor outburst,” Felicity said.
Mr. Stratton laughed. “Tell that to the boat captain—the man was shaken to his core.”
“Papa,” Grace said, “Dashlend will need to be healed before we set off. By then it will be full summer and we intend to take outThe Marquessa.”
Valor leveled her gaze at Lord Dashlend. “Didn’t you almost drown the last time?”
Dashlend nodded. “Yes, that was unfortunate, but we will stay close to the coast this time round.”
Some of the guests round the table were dubious of the sense of this plan, some were admiring, all had a comment to make.
Grace did not much care. She was to wed Dashlend, and wherever he went she would follow—north, south, east, west, land, or sea.
After dinner, it was roundly agreed that they would gather in the drawing room for Fact or Fib. Lady Marchfield did not stay for it. For one thing, she did not care for the game. For another, she was incensed that Mrs. Right had been called in to participate. Her aunt did kiss Grace on the cheek, though, and said, “You’ll be settled admirably, Grace, though how I do not know.”
