The Spice Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 1) Page 4

  Richard inclined his head politely. “Of course I am amenable, Mr Hayward, but please do call me Richard, for are we not to be father and son soon?”

  Again, out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw Grace blush. He was enjoying this. In fact, the more he made her blush, the more he enjoyed the challenge of attempting to make her do so.

  “I will make arrangements as soon as we finish eating,” Richard smiled.

  “Oh! How very good of you!” Mr Hayward waved his hands in the air in glee, his face shining bright. He was clearly happy with not only securing a buyer and exporter for his spices but that Richard seemed, at least, to be willing and eager to marry his daughter.

  “And that brings me on to another subject that I had hoped to bring up with you this very day. Within a few very short days, I shall grudgingly be forced to return to India.” He cleared his throat, and they all watched as he measured his words carefully. “It would give me the greatest of pleasure, and indeed such peace of mind, to have my dearest daughter, Grace, and your good self, sir, married before I leave.”

  He held up his hands, the palms facing Richard. “I am aware that this would be going against convention and rushing things a little bit too much, perhaps, for comfort. But I implore you to consider my request. I am sure that you understand I cannot leave my daughter here unchaperoned and unmarried. If we must delay, then she must return with me to India.” He looked imploringly between Richard and Edwina.

  Richard looked to his mother, raised his eyebrows. She smiled kindly, closed her eyes for a brief instant, and then turned all of her charm upon Grace and Mr Hayward. “Mr Hayward, nothing in this world would give us greater pleasure than to accept Grace into the bosom of our family with all expedience.” Without looking at him, she reached across and took hold of Richard’s hand. “I wonder,” she began hesitantly, “if we might prevail upon Mr Long, our business manager, to give you a tour of our premises, Mr Hayward?”

  “Mr Long?” Mr Hayward looked nonplussed.

  Richard sat in silence as his mother continued. “Yes. If you, Mr Hayward, were to go to London and take a tour of the business premises with Mr Long, then my son Richard, Grace, and I might meet with Reverend Davis and fix a time and date that is agreeable to all for the joyous wedding to take place.” Again, she gave Mr Hayward one of her dazzling smiles. Richard was learning that his mother could persuade just about anyone to do anything when she bestowed one of those smiles.

  Mr Hayward laughed and clapped his hands with glee. “Splendid! Splendid! What a wonderful notion!”

  Richard did his best not to look at her, but Grace had paled so that her face matched the tablecloth.

  “What do you think, eh, Grace?” her father asked her.

  Grace was unable to speak. Richard was halfway to feeling amused when he noted that her eyes were filling with tears. Why is she so stubborn? She is flattered by my attentions and her blushes come readily, and yet now she’s being missish and on the verge of tears at the thought of fixing a date for the wedding. Richard did not know why, but this irritated him. Inside the pit of his stomach, a little ball of anger was growing.

  “Oh! She is quite speechless!” Edwina cried. “Of course she is. How could she not be when faced with the prospect of marrying my eldest?” She turned to look at Mr Hayward and leant towards him conspiratorially. “If you ask me, he always was the most handsome of my boys.”

  Mr Hayward whispered back to her as though Grace and Richard could not hear them. “Yes, indeed he is. In fact, in my opinion, that is the reason she is so speechless,” he chortled at his own wit.

  The horror on Grace’s face was not missed by Richard. He did not know if his mother had seen it, though he knew she rarely missed anything; he did know that her father had not.

  “Then it is settled. You, Mr Hayward, will visit with Mr Long, and Mama, Grace, and I will visit with Reverend Davis.” He smiled at his father-in-law-to-be, mimicking his mother’s dazzling smile.

  “And, please, Richard, if your mother does not object, call me Papa.”

  Chapter Five

  Grace did not know what to do, what to think, or how to feel. She was frightened, angry, hurt, and upset all at the same time. Her resolution of earlier that morning, of deciding to make the best of a bad situation, had long since flown. Her fortitude and willpower were set to naught. The very thought of travelling with Mrs Emberton and Richard that day to make arrangements for, and set the date of, her wedding filled her with such dread that her stomach churned and she felt sick. What could she do? Nothing. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do about the situation. She had to marry Richard Emberton, and there was no way around it. Unless, as her heart told her, she made a try one last time and begged her father to change his mind.

  She tapped timidly on the door to his bedroom. She clenched her fists by her side and noticed the palms were wet. There was no response from within the room, so she tapped a little louder this time.

  “Come!” her father’s voice called out from inside.

  Tentatively she opened the door and stepped in the room, closing the door behind her. She stood with her back toward the door and gripped the cold brass of the doorknob with both hands to steady herself. She felt as though her legs were made of jelly and her knees would collapse at any moment.

  “Papa, I wondered if I might have a word with you a moment.”

  “Of course, my dear!” Mr Hayward called cheerfully as he turned towards her, smiling warmly. “You look very pretty this morning, my dear.” He held out his arm towards her. “Bother it! You wouldn’t help me, would you, Grace? I can’t seem to do my cufflinks up.”

  Grace hurried across the room to help her father immediately. She was accustomed to helping him with such fiddly things.

  “Perhaps I should call for John Tate.”

  “Papa, you dismissed him for the day. Besides, I have never minded helping you with your cravat or cufflinks. I enjoy it.”

  Grace noticed, with hope rising within her, that her father looked sad as he gazed down at her.

  “Oh, my dear daughter, whatever shall I do without you? You shall be sadly missed.” He reached out, his cufflinks now firmly secured, took hold of her shoulders and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “You are marrying into an excellent family and to an excellent man, my dear. You are incredibly fortunate indeed.”

  Grace could hardly find her voice as her throat closed with the emotion she felt. “I do not feel incredibly fortunate, Papa.”

  “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

  Grace watched as her father’s brows knit in confusion. He truly had no comprehension of what she felt or how disturbing marrying a stranger was to her. Neither did he have a notion of how traumatic it was to know that she might never see her father again, with him living on the Indian subcontinent and her in England.

  “Father, I do not wish to marry Richard Emberton.” She spoke again quickly as she watched her father’s expression change from puzzlement to ire. “I do not know him, I do not know his family, and I do not even like him. Please do not make me marry him. I want to return to India with you. I want to be able to choose the man whom I marry. Father… Papa, above all, I wish to marry for love.” Her eyes held such pleading that she prayed he would not be immune to.

  Mr Hayward burst into raucous laughter and turned away from his daughter. “Oh, tish! What stuff of complete romantic nonsense, Grace!”

  Grace rushed towards him and took hold of his arm. “Please, Papa, I beg of you. I cannot, I will not marry Richard Emberton.”

  “That is enough of that!” George Hayward turned to look at her and she saw his eyes harden with anger. “I will not hear any more on this subject, Grace.” He pulled away from her, yanking his arm from her grip. “You will do this thing I ask of you.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, you will, Grace Hayward. You will do precisely as I tell you to do. You will go with Mrs Emberton and Richard this very morning, and you will set a date for y
our wedding. You will marry him and you will be happy about it.”

  “I will never be happy about it, Papa!” Grace stood stock still with her hands clenched at her sides and tears running down her face. She had never been so unhappy in the entirety of her life.

  “I have been presented with the offer of a lifetime. I could not have wished for a better business deal, Grace. This arrangement is beyond my wildest dreams for our plantation. It means a new lease on life. It means I can make the alterations and the changes that you,” he pointed at her, “insisted and begged me to make. And it will ensure the continuation of the plantation; possibly it will even mean I can purchase more land. Our slaves will be secure. And I promise you I will do everything in my power to protect them and give them the best I can.” He put his hand down and folded his arms across his chest. “And, yes, that does mean that I will fire Peter Keen, upon your advice, a man who you say has been cruel to my slaves.”

  “Papa…” Grace whimpered.

  “Richard Emberton’s business will have a secure source of spices. I have now provided the best possible future I can for you. I have done everything a good father ought to. Whether you are happy about it or not is out of my hands. If you wish to spend the rest of your life being unhappy and living in abject misery, that, my dear, will be entirely of your own choosing and of your own doing.” He brushed past her as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Grace bowed her head and sobbed. “I will never be happy again,” she breathed. “I will make myself as unpleasant to him as I possibly can, until he has no recourse but to send me back to my father in India. I will not stay here forever. I will be his wife only in name, not in truth.”

  * * * *

  Richard retired to the library after breakfast and, once his irritation at Grace’s behaviour had waned, began to surmise that the poor girl was merely frightened. He was not in the least bit surprised. She was marrying into a family that were complete strangers to her. He knew dreadfully little of women and what they wanted, but he knew that they were romantic creatures. He wondered what he could do to make her feel less fearful. He wandered along the shelves, lined from floor to ceiling with books, and wondered if amongst their tomes there lay a book or two which would furnish him with all the information he would need to court and woo—and win—Grace Hayward.

  It was as he walked towards the far end of the library that his mother came in through the door at the far end. “Richard,” she said calling down the long room to him.

  He turned immediately at the sound of her voice. Her tone indicated she had something important to say. “Mama.”

  “Richard, it seems to me that your blushing bride is a bit reluctant to walk down the aisle,” she said matter of factly as she drew near.

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. “What can we do?”

  “You must persuade her.”

  Richard sighed and turned back towards the books. “That very same thought had occurred to me. Perhaps she is of a romantic nature and wishes to be courted, wooed,” he looked at his mother sideways, “romanced even.”

  Edwina breathed out heavily. “It is nothing more than sentimental nonsense. I was never such a girl, thank heaven!” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I have known more than my fair share of them in my lifetime.”

  “So,” Richard turned his body towards her and leant against the bookcase with his right shoulder, “you know of a trick or two that we can use to get this girl to do what we need her to do.”

  “Indeed I do. It will be tedious and at times you may think it is a little ridiculous, but if the look on her face at breakfast is anything to go by, she is a young lady that is often led by her emotions. The last thing we need on your wedding day, as you plight your troth before friends and family, is the humiliation of her saying ‘I will not’.”

  “Dear God!” Richard ran his hand through his sand-coloured hair. “I have heard of such things happening, but that will not happen to me!” Richard was dismayed by such a thought.

  “As you well know, etiquette dictates that, once an arrangement of marriage has been entered into and the couple is affianced, only the young lady may break the engagement. We, my son, must ensure that Miss Grace Hayward does not do such a thing.” She held up her index finger and pursed her lips. “In fact, we must ensure that such a thought never enters into her head.”

  She placed her hand upon his arm. “Now, let me tell you what you must do.”

  * * * *

  Richard secured a spot for Grace between his mother and himself on Reverend Davis’ parlour settee that afternoon. The girl was physically shaking. The settee was small enough that her arm pressed against his, and he could feel her trembling. He wished to believe it was due to their close proximity, but he knew it to be out of fear. Ever since they left the house, he gave Grace as much of his attention as possible. From helping her climb into the carriage and alighting again at the other end to seeing to it that her journey was a comfortable one, he did it all. With growing irritation, he saw that nothing he did or said made the slightest bit of difference to the young lady. She did not like him—he could see that in her eyes—and she made no bones about showing him her distaste of him.

  Each time his kind attentions were thrown back at him, he looked at his mother, who would mouth the words Be patient or Give it time. She would motion with her hand to calm him, but his sense of impatience grew. It was clear to him now, as they sat listening to the Reverend tell them about the last wedding he performed, that Grace was determined to be as disagreeable as possible.

  Richard thought long and hard in those few moments about what to do. Should he continue or give up entirely? His mind flew immediately to the business transaction he made with Mr Hayward. He would not give up on such a lucrative deal. He would simply have to try harder with Grace.

  He turned his attention back to the conversation in time to hear the Reverend pose him a question.

  “I am certain that a gentleman of your standing, Mr Emberton, would also wish to have such a lavish and elegant wedding ceremony.” The Reverend smiled benignly at him and Grace.

  Richard splayed his hands out in front of him. “To be perfectly honest, Reverend Davis, is that not the domain of the bride? Should she not decide whether she wishes a lavish or quiet ceremony?”

  Richard was rewarded as he turned to look at Grace by seeing her dumbfounded at what his words. “Well, yes… I…” she muttered.

  “Come, come, Grace. Do not be shy.” He smiled as kindly at her as he could. “Surely you have a notion of what sort of ceremony you would like.” Richard deliberately leant forward, looked past her, and spoke to his mother. “Did you not tell me this very morning that young ladies usually dream of their weddings from childhood, Mama?”

  Edwina nodded sagely, “Absolutely, Richard. Come, Grace dear. Do not be shy. Tell us what you would like.”

  Richard was enjoying every minute of the game he and his mother were playing. Grace, he could tell, had no idea what to say. He smiled disarmingly at her to encourage her.

  “Lace…” she blurted, “lots of flowers…an’…and candles. Choir.” She was flustered, he knew.

  “She may have those, may she not, Reverend?” Richard turned to the minister, highly amused.

  “Of course! Of course! The choir, surrounded by flowers and candles—so romantic, my dear.” The old man’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Grace. “Nothing is out of the question for such a charming young lady.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Richard agreed to Grace’s clear amazement. He nodded at her. “Anything else, dearest?” Richard watched with glee the reaction Grace had to being called dearest. She was unprepared for it and was undoubtedly taken aback. He never had in his entire life a single notion that romance could be so much fun. But he was having the time of his life. If he carried on and was relentless in his pursuit of Grace and his intention of wooing her, he would have succeeded within forty-eight hours, he was confident.

  “Do
you have any thoughts towards which hymns you would like to be sung, Miss Hayward?” the kindly Reverend asked.

  “Er… Charles Wesley,” she stuttered.

  “Excellent choice,” Richard encouraged.

  Grace turned and looked at him. Her disbelief written across her face. “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.”

  “Yes.” Richard, his mother, and the minister all chorused at once.

  “How about, if I may be so bold, Amazing Grace by John Newton?” Richard ventured. He knew this hymn was close to his brother Edward’s heart and that he would be glad to sing the song. What Richard was not prepared for was Grace’s reaction to it. She actually smiled at him for the first time since they had been introduced. It was a broad smile filled with happiness. Richard was taken aback by its beauty.

  “Amazing Grace is one of my favourite hymns. Do you know the history of it and the reason it was written?” Her eyes were the biggest he had ever seen them, beautiful deep blue oceans of loveliness.

  “Indeed I do. My brother Edward is vastly interested in the cause.”

  “It is a perfect choice,” she breathed.

  Richard’s breath caught in his throat. At that very moment she was a picture of pure exquisiteness. He had never seen her looking so striking, nor had he ever seen her so passionate about anything. She was truly lovely, and he realised then that he was an extremely fortunate man.

  “Then it is decided,” he inclined his head. He looked up to see his mother and Reverend Davis, exchanging a knowing look. What did he care if they saw he was falling in love with her? She was to be his wife, was she not? Marriage would certainly be easier if he did indeed love her. At that very moment he realised how much his feelings for the young lady at his side had changed and grown, and he desperately yearned to win her heart.

  Just as quickly as the moment had arrived, it was gone. Grace stiffened in her seat, turned her gaze towards the Reverend, and addressed him. Her voice once more regained its steely edge. “Do we need another one?”