A Gentle Grace (Wedded Women Quartet) (9 page)

Of course her first caller it had been Stephen.

It had always been Stephen.

Even now, four years removed from the moment that had changed the course of her life forever, Grace was able to recall every detail with absolute clarity as she nibbled on the edge of a sweet raspberry tart. Quite cognizant of the damage the delicious pastry could do to her ivory gown, she wrapped it in a cloth napkin and wandered to the rear of the supper room where a small collection of mismatched tables and chairs had been set up.

She sat gratefully, her feet and ankles already weary from being pinched in her too tight dancing slippers, and while the
ton
mingled all around her, oblivious to one solitary female of nondescript appearance, she ate her raspberry tart and remembered her first kiss.

Stephen had come to call exactly one week after the Grandhill’s picnic. He showed up quite unexpectedly at half past one in the afternoon with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands and a smirk on his face.

The butler ushered him in to the drawing room, where he was served weak tea and stale scones – the cook had taken ill two days before, and Lady Deringer’s cooking skills paled in comparison – while Grace changed dresses upstairs and her mother attempted to do something to tame her wild curls.

“No, no, no, not the yellow muslin! The
blue
, Grace. The blue! It matches your eyes,” Henrietta all but shrieked as she yanked a hairbrush through Grace’s hair hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“But I have grass stains on the blue one.”

Henrietta paused mid yank, her eyes bulging. “Grass stains? How in heavens did you get grass stains on your new dress?”

Unable to meet her mother’s piercing gaze in the mirror, Grace ducked her chin. “I do not remember,” she mumbled.

“You do not remember. Oh, Grace, what am I going to do with you?” Henrietta released a dramatic sigh and shook her head woefully back and forth. “You are such a troublesome child. Sweet as a newborn lamb, but exceedingly troublesome. Why you cannot act more like Rosalind is beyond me.”

Grace wrinkled her nose as she thought of her baby sister who was an angel in public and the very devil when she thought no one was watching. “I do not want to be like Rosalind. I want to be like me.”

“Yes, well, I do suppose you managed to attract the attention of… What is Lord Melbourne, precisely? A Duke?” Henrietta asked hopefully.

“No, not a Duke.”

“Oh, very well. I do suppose that was a bit far fetched. A Viscount, then.”

Disguising her laughter with a well timed cough, Grace shook her head. “No, Mother, he is not a Viscount either.”

Henrietta stopped brushing all together to put her hands on her well rounded hips. “Well then, what is he?” she demanded.

“An Earl,” Grace said. “The Earl of Terraview, I believe.”

“The Earl of Terraview,” Henrietta mused. Setting the brush aside, she expertly swept Grace’s hair back into a simple twist at the nape of her neck and secured it with a yellow ribbon that matched her dress. “Well, I suppose that is better than a Baron. Pinch your cheeks, dear. You look a little pale.”

Grace did as she was asked, and listened obediently to her mother as Henrietta continued to issue orders even as they made their way down the stairs towards the drawing room where Stephen had been kept waiting for more than half an hour.

“Do not discuss any personal matters… Do not eat in front of him… Remember to sit up straight… Smile, but not too much… Laugh, but not too loudly… Do not fidget… Make sure to cross your ankles... Sit with your hands—”

“Mother,
stop it
,” Grace hissed, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment when they reached the door and she saw it was slightly ajar. Sound carried easily through the thin plaster walls of the old house, and she had no doubt her suitor had heard every single word Henrietta uttered. How completely mortifying.

“I am trying to give you advice, dear.”

“Yes, but Lord Melbourne can
hear
you.”

“A gentleman never eavesdrops. Do they, Lord Melbourne?” Pushing the door open, Henrietta walked briskly into the room and offered the Earl a beaming smile. He rose from his chair at once and bent at the waist in a lavish bow that caused Henrietta to giggle and Grace to roll her eyes.

“They do not, Lady Deringer,” Stephen said. Straightening, he leveled those leaf green eyes directly at Grace, and she felt her face changing color all over again.

How could one look, so innocent from the outside, turn her insides to jelly? She thought desperately of something to say, an amusing comment, perhaps, or a witty observation, except when she opened her mouth no sound came out, which was quite unusual. Grace was many things, but at a loss for words was not one of them. Thankfully, she had inherited her penchant for aimless chatter from her mother, and Henrietta was most definitely
not
lacking in mindless conversation or cringe-worthy questions.

“I say, Lord Melbourne, are you staying with acquaintances or relatives in the area?”

“Mother,” Grace groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead.

“What?” Wide-eyed, Henrietta glanced at her daughter and frowned. “It was only a simple question.”

One intended to find out if Lord Melbourne is wealthy enough to have his own estate in the country
, Grace thought silently. She had tried to explain ages ago that she wanted to marry for love, not money, but Henrietta would have none of it. Marry for both if you can, her mother had said, or marry for money if you can’t, but never,
ever
marry just for love.

Fortunately Stephen did not seem put off by the question. If anything, he appeared humored by it. “I own a property not far from here. A two hundred acre estate that is quite prosperous, I can assure you. I also possess two properties in Scotland, one in France, and a large townhouse of the first tier in London. I inherited all of the homes, but my personal wealth – of which there is an embarrassing amount – has been made entirely on my own merit. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Lady Deringer, or shall I continue?”

“I… I do not… That is to say… Well,” Henrietta said finally. “Yes, yes Lord Melbourne. I am quite satisfied. You… You may have afternoon tea on the back veranda with my daughter if you wish.”

Grace, who had never heard her mother at a loss for words in her entire life, was forced to clap a hand over her mouth to hold back the peal of laughter that threatened to burst out. Oh, but that had been marvelous! She glanced at Stephen with new appreciation and caught him looking at her as well. Their eyes met. His mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile, and Grace – never well coordinated at her best, positively hopeless at her worst – stumbled over the edge of the rug when she tried to turn around.

The floor rushed up towards her at an alarming rate and she cringed, throwing her hands out in front of her face in an attempt to brace for an impact… that never came. Instead two strong arms caught around her middle and she was plucked upright as if she weighed no more than a feather.

“Are you all right?” Stephen murmured against her ear.

How
, Grace wondered dazedly,
had he moved so fast
?
And why did it feel so divine to be in his arms when he was no more than a stranger
?

“Quite… quite all right,” she squeaked. And then, because she knew her mother was watching them like a hawk, she hastily added, “You can let me go now.”

The Earl stepped away at once, and with a cluck of her tongue Henrietta led them both out onto the veranda. It was quite warm for late August, but the back of the estate boasted numerous trees and shade was plentiful. A light breeze played across Grace’s face as she seated herself at one end of the wrought iron table that occupied the majority of the veranda’s limited space while Stephen took to the other.

“I will send someone out with fresh lemonade and pastries,” Henrietta said, although she made no move to go back inside as promised. Instead she stood looking at both of them expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Mother, we are
quite
fine,” Grace hissed. She glanced quickly at Stephen to see if he was watching, but he was staring off across the back field, his expression one of polite detachment.

Henrietta’s shoulders drooped in ill disguised disappointment. “Are you certain? Is there anything else you need—”

“Lemonade and pastries would be lovely.” Grace forced a tight smile that was quite at odds with the butterflies dancing in her belly. Part of her wanted her mother to leave at once, of course… But the other part wanted her to stay forever so she would not have to be alone with Lord Melbourne. What in heavens name was she going to
say
to him? What was she going to
do
? What if he found her boring? What if he wanted to go on a walk? What if she fell flat on her face? The possibilities were endless, each one more hopeless than the last. Panic stricken, Grace opened her mouth to ask Henrietta to stay and have afternoon refreshments with them, but her mother swept through the door and closed it smartly behind her before she could speak a word.

Grace clasped her hands in her lap and reminded herself to sit up straight. She waited for Stephen to say something – anything, really – but he continued to stare off over the fields as if they were the most fascinating sight he had ever beheld.

Every second that ticked by only served to heighten Grace’s nerves, until she simply could not take it anymore and blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Why did you come to call on me?”

Stephen did not answer immediately. Like the lion she had compared him to at their first meeting he took his time to settle in. One long leg stretched out under the table while the other hooked around his chair. He loosened his cravat with a flick of his wrist and leaned back, linking his hands behind his head before slanting her an amused glance from beneath his heavily lidded eyes.

 
He has obviously never been taught the proper etiquette of how to sit
, Grace thought with a little frown, although in truth she was quite jealous for he looked so very comfortable while she was already suffering from an ache the size of a fist in the middle of her back.

“Why did I come to call on you?” he repeated slowly, as if weighing and measuring each word. “Is it not obvious?”

“No, it is not.”

“And why is that?”

Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those most annoying people who insist on answering every question with a question? If so, I do not believe we will get along well at all.”

The Earl barked out a laugh. “That,” he said, his green eyes gleaming as a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That is why I came to call on you.” 

“Because I insinuated you were annoying?” Grace asked, her eyebrows knitting together in bemusement.

“No. Well, yes, I suppose. But mostly because you make me laugh. I see that surprises you.”

“It does,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“That is not a reason to come calling on someone, Lord Melbourne,” she said with exasperation. One minute with the man and he might as well have been speaking in riddles for all the sense he made. She wondered if this was how he was with everyone, or just with her. “You call on them because you find them witty or charming or… or physically appealing.
Not
because they make you laugh. Why, anything can cause anyone to laugh!”

“Do you do it often then?” he asked.

“Do I… Do I do what often?”

“Laugh.”

Grace’s fingers strayed to her throat and began to play absently with the pearl buttons that adorned the high necked collar of her dress. “I suppose I do. At least a dozen times a day, in my estimation.”

“A dozen times?” Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. “That is quite a bit.”

“Is it? I had never really given it much thought before. I am not… That is to say… Well, I am not a very serious minded person, Lord Melbourne,” she confessed in a whisper less her mother was listening. “You would find out eventually, so I suppose it is best I tell you now.”

“Not very serious, you say? I am shocked.”

Grace nodded guiltily. “I thought you would be. And I am quite clumsy as well.”

“Clumsy? You?” His eyes widened. “I never would have guessed.”

“Yes,” Grace sighed. “So as you can see, we do not at all suit.”

Stephen stood so abruptly that Grace jumped back in her chair. “Walk with me, Lady Deringer.”

“W-walk with you?” She wet her lips. Her mother had mentioned nothing about walking. “Walk with you where?”

“There.” He pointed to the field. “We would be in sight of the house the entire time. It would be most proper, I assure you.”

Grace rather thought it would be most
im
proper, but she was forced to admit that the idea had merit. For as long as she could remember she had chaffed against the constraints put on her by the unchangeable fact that she was a woman. Wear this, say that. Never speak when not spoken to. Never stare. Never question. In her lap, hidden beneath the table, her small hands curled into fists as she made her decision. She
would
walk with the Earl, and she would say whatever she wanted, etiquette and rules be damned!

“I would love to take a walk with you, Lord Melbourne.” Carefully gathering up her skirts so as not to trip, she slid back her chair and breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to stand without incident. “But first, do you think we might wait for the pastries? I am ever so hungry.”

Chuckling, the Earl skirted the edge of the table and offered his arm. She tucked her hand neatly through the crook of his elbow and tried to pretend his very touch did not make her pulse flutter or her heart pound.

“Whatever you wish, Lady Deringer,” he said. “Whatever you wish.”

CHAPTER TEN