Page 19 of Surrender Your Grace (Impromptu Brides #1)

Cici sat before her mirror as Mary arranged her hair. She tried not to fidget, but anticipation shimmered through her. Tonight, Andrew was taking her to an outdoor concert beneath the domes at Victoria Embankment Gardens.

London had changed since their return—not just the oppressive July heat that wilted her, but its tone. The city no longer thrummed with society’s sparkle. Most of the peerage had retreated to their country estates, leaving Grosvenor Square more hushed than Cici had ever known.

She and Andrew remained behind. Parliament had one final week in session, and the newly minted duke of Sommerville had no reprieve from duty—not even for grief.

The rest of the family had entered deep mourning, as etiquette demanded.

Widows bore the heaviest burden, withdrawing to the country, draped in black and heavy veils, their lives narrowed to shadow and silence.

Men had fewer restrictions, often resuming public life swiftly.

So it was with Andrew, who lingered at black-crepe-draped Sommerville Hall for a fortnight then returned to London with little more than an armband to mark his sorrow.

News of their return had spread, triggering a flurry of invitations.

Lavish balls and extravagant dinners were politely declined—too celebratory for the circumstances.

Hostesses had to content themselves with securing the Sommervilles’ presence at teas, small musicales, or quiet suppers.

Their previously overlooked marriage had become a matter of considerable social consequence.

But Cici didn’t feel consequential. She felt like an afterthought.

Andrew had changed. More aloof and contemplative. Distance crept in again—not from uncertainty now, but from the weight of responsibility.

Managing twelve Sommerville estates—with their hundreds of tenants and endless concerns—demanded most of Andrew’s time.

Until he could visit each in person, correspondence dominated his days.

Though he had stewards, messengers arrived daily, and a constant stream of letters crossed his desk.

Disputes, land sales, crop failures, building repairs all required his input or signature.

It was as though the vast duchy paused to honor the late duke for two short weeks then roared back to life again, demanding the new duke’s attention.

His influence in the House of Lords had grown threefold.

He championed his counties fiercely, ever mindful of his family’s legacy.

Andrew’s swift elevation to land baron and powerful political figure was enough to leave Cici reeling.

And she, the unprepared duchess, was left adrift in a life she hadn’t rehearsed.

Most days, Andrew left early and didn’t return until late—sometimes not at all. When they did attend events, he often rushed in last-minute and rarely stayed for more than a few minutes.

Whispers followed her at every gathering. Her gowns were deemed too plain. Her figure—too curvy for fashion. She lacked the elegance of her predecessors. And worst of all, it was said, she couldn’t seem to hold the new duke’s attention.

But tonight, she hoped would be different.

“All finished, Your Grace.”

The comment and the snap of a hair clip jolted Cici from her thoughts.

Turning her head from side to side, she assessed her maid’s handiwork in the mirror.

Soft curls framed her face, with the rest of the thick waves cascading from her crown.

Shimmering amethyst woven through the strands seemed to tone down the unfashionable red.

“You’ve worked your magic again, Mary,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”

Cici rose, smoothing her skirts. Now all she needed was her husband. She checked the time. Worried because they should be going soon. Tonight had been scheduled for weeks. He had promised to attend.

As her maid closed the door to the hall, the adjoining one opened. Andrew entered, still in his morning coat, his hair damp from the misty rain, tension etched in his face.

She knew in a glance something had come up—again.

“You look lovely, Cici.” he said, catching her gaze in the mirror.

“How kind of you to notice,” she replied, turning to face him.

He sighed and crossed the room. “I suppose I haven’t noticed much of anything lately.”

“You’ve been busy,” she offered, though the words tasted of disappointment.

“There’s so much, it’s overwhelming. Estates I’ve never even seen, some I didn’t know existed.” He hesitated, and she waited to hear about the latest crisis. “There’s been an issue at the Berkshire estate. Two tenants—at odds for years—are threatening violence over lease terms. It’s escalated.”

A beat passed.

“You must go,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

Her fingers twisted in her skirts. “Of course.”

“I’d much rather be here with you,” he said, reaching for her hand.

“But you won’t be.”

“I can’t,” he said low, squeezing gently. “I hate how often I’ve had to said that.”

She took a breath, feigning calm. “The gossips are finding new material. Some say you’re imaginary.”

He gave a tired smile. “Yet, here I am, holding your hand. So much for their theories.”

Cici had always heard that rumors often contained a thread of truth; that was why they were often believable.

“How long will you be away this time?” she asked.

“Only a few days.”

She nodded. The pattern was familiar. Hope. Disappointment. Departure.

“You shouldn’t put your life on hold while I sort through mine,” he said. “You’re not bound by strict mourning. Host. Take up causes. Make your mark.”

“Elizabeth is the outgoing Edwards sister,” she reminded him. “I don’t like going out alone. And I wouldn’t know where to start with the other things you mentioned.”

“You must have friends.”

“Most treat me differently now. Maggie and Elizabeth were my circle.”

“I’d prefer your time with sister be kept to a minimum.”

“Me too,” she murmured. “But you’re right. I need something to fill my days.”

“There was a stack of invitations and calling cards on the entry table.”

She sighed. “I don’t know where to start with those either.”

“You need a secretary,” he declared.

She laughed. When he didn’t join in, she paused. “Oh. You’re serious.”

He nodded. “You don’t think women of your rank handle everything alone, do you? A secretary can help with correspondence, RSVPs, your social calendar, and sponsorships if that’s what you choose to do.”

“Where does on find such a miracle worker?”

“That I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll send for my mother.”

“But she’s still in deep mourning. Won’t people talk?”

“She needn’t attend anything. Guiding you in your new role might help her to take her mind off things”

“Could Maggie come with her?”

He smiled—genuinely smiled—for the first time in what felt like months. “That would make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

“Very much.”

“Then, I’ll make it happen.” He tilted her chin and kissed her tenderly. “It won’t always be like this, sweeting. I promise.”

“I hope not. I miss you—and…”

“Finish your thought,” he urged.

“I miss what we had before.”

“I do too. But grief and exhaustion don’t inspire passion.” He raised a hand to her lips, the heat of interest, missing for months, gleaming in his eyes. “You in a violet dress with jewels twinkling in your hair does, however. We’ll fix the distance between us when I return.”

“I’d like that.”

Soft as a whisper, his thumb traced the line of her jaw. “This is difficult, I know.”

“For you too.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. In a rare moment of vulnerability, his shoulders dropped. “This all hit like a bolt from the blue—James’ death, the title, the estates—”

“Marrying me.”

Silence bloomed.

Wanting to ease the moment, she reached for him, fingertips brushing his jaw. “I understand, truly, and I apologize for adding to the weight on your shoulders.”

“Don’t apologize. This is no one’s fault.” Their lips met—tentative at first, then fierce and hungry, a spark reigniting. When he lifted his mouth, he whispered, “I’m not imaginary, sweeting. I’ve very real, just not yet present. But I will be soon. I promise.”

The damnable mantel clock chimed the hour—seven o’clock.

Andrew groaned. “If I’m to make my train at Paddington, I must go.”

Her fingers curled in his coat, willing him to stay. But she knew she couldn’t hold him.

“Come home safe,” she whispered, almost adding and quickly.

“Always. I have much to come home safe to.”

The next moment, he was gone.