An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Thirty-One: A Debt Owing

Mrs Redwood called it a lover's tiff. Mrs Follet hesitatingly suggested Grace should not be too quick to judge. Neither of them knew the full truth, and Grace was not going to tell them. Not yet, anyway. It was less painful to go to London with Harriet and lick her wounds in private. Once her initial anger faded, there was a lot of hurt. She had cared for James more than she dared admit. Over the early days of her empty marriage, she tormented herself by thinking back over the past months and trying to decipher the pretence and seduction from the truth. Had he meant that first kiss, or had it just been a ploy to soften her to him? Had he meant any of them, when she had been liquid in his arms, his touch bringing fire to her veins? There had been times they had almost gone too far but he had always pulled back. If he had really felt for her — really loved her, as he had almost said — he would not have been so self-controlled.

It was better not to think about him. Thankfully, Harriet's house was too noisy and chaotic to give much opportunity for clear thought. In seven years of marriage, the Undertons had had six children. The oldest was six years and the youngest six months. There was always trouble afoot, a problem for Grace to occupy herself with, or for Harriet to fret about. Only at night was there enough quiet to think about James, and then Grace muffled her tears in her pillow.

After Easter, Mrs Follet thought it appropriate to allow Alice and Emma to attend small dinners and parties again, as it had been very nearly six months since Mr Follet's death. Several times, they were invited somewhere in London, and Grace acted as chaperone for them, feeling uncomfortable in her new duty. Nothing had really changed in her marriage that never was. She was no more knowledgable about men or marriage than her younger sisters were. Perhaps less, as she was so easily fooled. They could not look to her for guidance.

Alice was in need of no guidance anyway. She was pretty and bold, which brought her to the attention of male admirers and female friends, while being too cynical to ever need protection from unsuitable acquaintances. Emma was shyer and spent more of her time with Grace. It gave Grace the chance to hear a little about James. He was still living with his parents in Richmond. Emma met him sometimes, riding his horse or walking about the village.

"He doesn't seem happy," she said. "He asks after you."

"What do you tell him?"

"That he should come and ask you himself."

"He won't come. I told him not to bother me. I am done with men. Even my husband. There is not a man I have— have known who has not disappointed me."

It had been on the tip of her tongue to say loved. She had thought of her father and Benson. But she had not loved James. She had been mistaken even in liking him.

One night in late April, Grace found herself at a dinner party seated next to another man who had disappointed her expectations, and love had not even been required there. It was David Demery. She was slightly afraid to be near him, but it seemed he did not recognize her. After a few polite attempts at conversation, he gave up and turned his attention to the woman on his other side, who seemed more than grateful for it. He was handsome, Grace supposed, though he might have been handsomer if his smile ever reached his eyes.

Grace thought that was the beginning and end of a slightly awkward situation, but she was mistaken. After dinner, once the men returned to the drawing room for coffee, Demery approached Grace again, under the guise of looking at a painting on the wall that she was examining, and spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not recognize you before, Miss Follet."

"It is Mrs Redwood now."

"Of course. You married... him."