Joanna Johnson - Scandalously Wed To The Captain

He roused himself with a brisk roll of his shoulders. The ridiculous thoughts that insisted on trying to worm their way into his already whirling mind would be dismissed. Grace would soon be gone from his house, taking her disconcerting effect on him with her, and then he needn’t see her or her accursedly moving sadness again if he chose. It was almost amusing he’d let himself get so carried away by such folly.

How foolish to fear something that was never a danger in the first place.

Reassured at last by his own sensible thinking, Spencer risked a swift look up at Grace as he handed her a cup, which she took in one shaking hand.

‘You were saying?’ Mrs Dauntsey prompted gently.

‘Oh. Yes.’ Grace took a small sip of her tea. It was far too hot to drink yet, Spencer knew, but the attempt at normality seemed to give her the courage to go on.

She sighed again, her eyes suddenly sparkling with unshed tears that made Spencer’s brows contract in a brief frown of discomfort. Grace took a deep breath before continuing, but the quaver in her voice was painfully obvious. ‘My fiancé ended our engagement only this afternoon and now I find myself in a position—oh, such a position—I just don’t know what will become of us all now!’

The tears she had tried in vain to conceal now spilled down her cheeks and she covered her face with her hand in a mixture of shame and distress that pricked Spencer in the soft underbelly of his determined indifference. Her dismay at breaking down was clear, but she couldn’t seem to control the storm of weeping that held her in its merciless grasp—it was an uncomfortable relief to Spencer when his mother hurriedly set aside her cup and took the younger woman’s hand in her own, helping Grace to stem the tide of misery that shook her slender frame.

‘Oh, my dearest girl! Please don’t cry so. Whatever do you mean, you don’t know what will become of you all? What can have happened?’

Grace brushed the wetness from her face with the backs of her fingers. She hesitated, a shadow of reluctance crossing her countenance, but the entreaty in Mrs Dauntsey’s face forced her to speak. ‘Spencer said you hadn’t heard of the misfortune that has befallen my family.’

Spencer watched as his mother nodded warily, her glance flickering towards him briefly in a look he had no need to puzzle over. Disappointment and unhappiness gleamed in it, a clear indication of Mrs Dauntsey’s thoughts. ‘That’s correct. I haven’t been able to stir outside since we arrived and I’m afraid an... indiscretion of Spencer’s means we’ve had no visitors to bring us news.’

Another flit of guilt pinched Spencer beneath his ribs at his mother’s delicate phrasing of a distinctly in delicate event. As a Quaker she disapproved strongly of his drinking and as his mother she despaired to see its effect on her only surviving son. His very public fight had made him notorious in a society where once he might have been welcomed with open arms, his fortune and face usually a guarantee of entry into the upper echelons. Now his actions would rob his poor mother of respectable company—for who would choose to spend time with a family whose sole heir was so evidently running wild? The inconvenient truth of his only having acted in self-defence wouldn’t be allowed to get in the way of a good story, the rumours about him too salacious to be tempered by facts.

Spencer tracked the fascinating movement of Grace’s throat as she swallowed down another sigh, bobbing her 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 un pretty 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.