A Lesson in Pride (17 page)

Alysanne jumped on the opportunity. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I would love a glass of champagne.”

Charlotte shook her head and Hope hadn't even heard him as she was examining the program describing the entertainment that evening. Braydon walked off to fetch the drink.

“He is certainly a handsome man, Charlotte,” Alysanne said, watching his butt as he left. “Very well-proportioned fellow.”

Hope finally looked up. “And you wanted me to meet him? I should think he would make a fine husband for you.”

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat at the thought. Reality came back in a flash, forcing her to realize that her situation did not allow her to marry someone so poor.

“Mr. Pierce is a kind man, but he is not for me.”

Both women turned and gave Charlotte a strange look. “Why ever not?” Hope asked at the same time Alysanne snorted and joked, “Are you kidding?”

Seeing the man in question was approaching them again, Charlotte gave her sister and stepmother a look to quiet them down. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass the man.

Braydon handed the champagne to Alysanne. She smiled and thanked him for his kindness. He quickly took the seat next to Charlotte just as the musician began to play.

During a lull in the music, Braydon leaned over and asked, “Do you enjoy music, Miss Drake?”

Charlotte scrunched her face. “Would I attend a musicale if I did not enjoy music, Mr. Pierce?”

“You may be surprised to know that most of those in attendance have no appreciation of music.”

“I pity them. The music is sublime and I am enjoying it quite a bit.”

“I bet you like to read as well.” Braydon longed to learn more about Charlotte.

Keeping her head squarely on the performers, she nodded. “I do. I read very often when I have the time. If given a choice between spending a tedious evening at a ball or reading a good novel, I would choose reading every time.”

Braydon smiled, which Charlotte caught out of the corner of her eye. Was he testing her? Or was he simply curious? No matter the answer, it was of little consequence to Charlotte.

Braydon grew silent, as if knowing she wanted to listen to the beautiful concerto being played by the string quartet. He watched her closely though. Saw her close her eyes and soak up the notes. She was at peace listening to music, which gave him hope that she would be willing to live a simple life with him in the country. He traveled a lot, but he didn't need to. He could spend more time at home if he had the proper incentive of a pretty wife. The longer he sat next to Charlotte, the more he wanted her for his own.

At the end of the song, Charlotte blinked open her eyes. The music was well played and it lifted up her heart like nothing else. When she looked over at Mr. Pierce, some of that peace fell away. She was to drive with him tomorrow. What would he expect? Would she have to gently discourage him from furthering their acquaintance? She hated the thought of hurting him. She hated the idea of never seeing him again more. With so many responsibilities riding on her shoulders, Charlotte had to keep her perspective. She would go for a drive with him tomorrow. Then, she would avoid him like the plague.

Chapter 23

Grant sat in his study, drink in hand, contemplating his life. It was almost becoming a habit for him to do so. After dinner with the Hortons and Drakes, he'd returned home to brood over its success. He couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Alysanne more animated, more happy. She smiled, joked, and participated more at dinner than he'd seen her do for all the years he'd known her.

Every laugh, every smile, every witty comment was like a knife to his chest. She could never be his, at least not legitimately. They could carry on a discreet affair, but Grant knew he could never do that to her.

When she'd burst into his parlor earlier, it was all the proof he needed that she was in love with him. No woman would have gone to such lengths for a friend. Their love story was not meant to be. If only his father was more generous. If only he'd made something of himself. If only.

As much as he enjoyed Alysanne's jovial mood at dinner, he was equally appalled by Malcolm Horton's. The man had no grace, no dignity. He was exactly the kind of person Grant's father would dismiss without a single glance. However, now he was being forced to call the man family because he had something Grant desperately needed.

Malcolm spoke loudly, had little concern for the appropriateness of his conversation, and ate like a bear who'd just woken in the spring. Just thinking about the evening made Grant's skin itch. He would be required to shepherd the Hortons around in society, all the while being disgusted by their commonness. Would he even be able to stomach his own wife? Would she only become a daily embarrassment to him?

Persephone was sweet, but she was so far beneath him. She would never stand up to the old ladies of society. She would wither and suffer under their scrutiny. And he would be forced to live with the aftermath. That sweet disposition would turn to vinegar. Any attempts to love her would be scorned. She would grow as bitter and dissatisfied as he would. They would eventually live separate lives.

As Grant's mind turned to Alysanne, a moment of realization hit him with force. Was she all that much better than Persephone? Her father was no more a member of polite society, though he claimed to have been born a gentleman. Nigel's father might have had some claim to a lesser title, but any sort of superiority could never be claimed by the man. It was always Nigel's contention that he was something more and deserved far more than he got. It was what had drawn the two together, since Grant had always felt slighted by his own father. The difference was that the duke of Bedford had more to give and refused to do so. Grant hardly thought that Nigel's father was withholding a great fortune from his son.

Until recently, Grant would never have thought that Alysanne could stand up to society either. She hadn't put her foot down upon receiving the news that she was to be Drake's wife. She had done as she always had--exactly what she was told. It wasn't until that night, her wedding night, that Grant saw she had strength after all.

Was that what made her so attractive to him now? The fact that in the face of a life doomed, she had finally found the strength to stand up for herself. She had finally determined that she wanted a different life for herself and was willing to do what she had to in order to achieve it.

Of course, that night she lost the reasons why she hadn't been able to achieve such a life. Her father had willingly given Drake power over his daughter. When Drake had died, Nigel could never claim power over his daughter again. Once the exchange had been made, there was no going back. Drake made it impossible for Alysanne to be held hostage by her father any longer, though Grant doubted that was his intent. Drake wanted to punish Nigel for his upstart pretension, not give Alysanne the keys to a better life.

Regardless of the reasons for the change in her attitude, she had changed. She was a stronger person, which to Grant, made her more attractive. Alysanne was not as innocent as she had appeared before her marriage, making him think that she would have been a perfect counterpoint to him. She was also lovely, which never hurt when a man needed an heir.

Persephone was just young, innocent, and mousy. Her parents obviously indulged her, making Grant think that there would be no pleasing the girl. Her lifestyle would continue as it had before, only with the added bonus of being more accepted in society thanks to his own heritage. Would she become a shrew right after the wedding, or would she give him a few months before her true nature showed itself?

It didn't matter to Grant that he was contradicting himself in his own head. All he needed to know was that he was getting exactly what he wanted. Did that make him any more spoiled than what he envisioned his future wife to be? No, simply because he had been born to a duke and that allotted him more in life. His destiny should have been grander, if only his father had been more generous.

Grant took a deep swallow from his glass, relishing the burning of alcohol down his throat. His musings had come full circle. He was back to blaming his father. Finishing his drink, Grant made his way to bed. There would be no deep revelations over how he could change his lot in life. He would not consider what he could do on his own to make his existence more like one he wanted. That was for better men. Far better men than he. If only.

Chapter 24

Ginny waited nervously for most of the afternoon for Grant's arrival. Her poor stepdaughters were forced to spend an afternoon with their sister Vivianne. She should have gone with them, if only to shield the worst of Vivianne's venom from them, but Ginny thought it might actually be good for them to learn to deal with it. Society could be cruel and Charlotte and Hope needed to learn how to stand up to it.

They would be home by five, in order for Charlotte to go riding with Mr. Pierce. Ginny had meant to talk to Charlotte about the young man, but no opportunity had presented itself. In the world of romance novels, it was a perfect match, but Charlotte came off as reluctant. Would it be a romance novel match if one party weren't reluctant? Ginny didn't think so. She would ask her stepdaughter about it over dinner.

Grant arrived exactly on time. Ginny could hear the knock on the door, the butler's stern tone, and the footsteps as they made their way to the small parlor. A tea tray was already being made up and set to arrive minutes after Grant's arrival. Drake had hired a competent staff that Ginny was grateful for most times.

Entering the room and looking as dashing as ever, Grant bowed before her seated form. “Good day, my lady.”

Ginny rose and curtsied. “Good day to you, my lord. Please have a seat. The tea tray should be here any moment now.”

Waiting until Ginny resumed her seat, Grant sat in the chair directly across from her. Knowing they would be disturbed again, he stuck to inane conversation. “Your stepdaughters, you said, were to go shopping with their sister?”

“Yes. Mrs. Lester agrees to see them occasionally to reinforce her superiority. Hope sees it as a lark, but Charlotte takes it seriously.”

His eyebrow rose at her honesty. “Hope is but a half sister, I believe.”

“Yes, she is. However, her opinion of Vivianne was forged during her rare visits to Drake's country estate. Vivianne hates the country and is vocal about all the reasons why.”

Before more could be said, a maid entered with the tea tray. Placing it on the table next to Ginny, she curtsied and left, closing the door on her way out. Ginny was grateful for the privacy, knowing exactly why Grant was there.

Through novels of practice, Ginny meticulously poured two cups of tea, offering Grant a piece of cake and a napkin. Too nervous to eat, Ginny sipped her tea, choosing not to look at her guest. As the silence continued, she wondered if Grant wanted to avoid the topic of her proclamation as well. That would have been too much to hope for, as Grant put down his cup and spoke.

“I am making a grave mistake, am I?” he asked with a small smile.

Taking her time, Ginny put down her teacup. What could she say? There were plenty of things she could say, with many of them being completely accurate, but she wasn't about to be honest. She could just imagine her telling him how she was a twenty-first century woman trapped in Alysanne's body and doing the best she could. So tempting, but no. She would go for something more self-deprecating instead.

“I doubt I could have been more of a ninny if I'd tried.” Her attempt at humor did not go over well, as Grant's lips turned down.

“Really, Alysanne, is it necessary to state the obvious? What could you have possibly been thinking? And how were able to come up with that story?”

Years of practice was her first thought. An innate ability to bullshit was her second. Finally, she settled on number three. “I am worried about you, Grant. I know this isn't what you want. I also know you have no other choices. As your friend, I want only your happiness.” After a dramatic pause, Ginny asked, “Can she make you happy?”

Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. There was no way she could make him happy, because Alysanne was the only woman in the world who could. They were designed for one another, meant to be together. They fit like yin and yang. The revolved around each other like heavenly bodies attracted by gravity. Ginny knew she was being dramatic, but she'd played this game before. This was not her first rodeo and she knew what exactly to expect. What she never seemed to know was what to do when everything appeared lost.

“No, she could never make me happy. But her money can. I am a selfish being, Alysanne. I grew up wealthy and have no desire to see how poor people live. As it is, I have had to scrimp for what scraps my father has been willing to share. I have no marketable skills. I barely graduated from Cambridge. I would make a terrible vicar and my father would never allow me to buy a commission. I am destined for nothing other than being a rich man's social connection.”

Ginny remained silent, staring at the wall. What was she to make of that? He'd summed it up in a neat, little package. He was lazy and stupid and she was... what? Unwilling to see how poor people lived either? Didn't that make her just as selfish? She'd lived without the comforts of her time for so long now, she should be able to cope. It was easy to let others do the things she didn't want to do. She had no desire to wash clothes or cook dinner. Unfortunately, that didn't leave her with many choices.