Three Weeks to Wed (8 page)

Penny glowered. “If you're sure, my lady.”

Grace raised a brow. Penny, for good reason considering one of her nephews died in the war, may not like the French, but insolence was one thing Grace would not tolerate. “Yes, quite sure. He is the relative of Lady Evesham's chef and known for his steady temperament. I'll go back to Grosvenor Square and have our trunks sent over.”

After taking a quick tour of the house, Grace set off on foot, followed by her footman, Harold. Resisting the temptation to amble along the tree-lined path through the square, which was lovely, but would take her longer, she dutifully turned left toward Davies Street. She was only two houses down the street when a gentleman, several girls, and a large Great Dane exited one of the houses on the opposite side of the square from Stanwood House.

Oh, no. It took her only the matter of a second to recognize the man.

Worthington
.

He and his sister were striding in the same direction Grace was. Her heart raced and she averted her face. Grateful for her bonnet, she picked up her pace, hoping to pass out of the square and toward Mount Street before Worthington reached the corner.

But then the brim of her hat hid them. Her footman was too far behind her to ask where they were, and what could she say in any event?
How far away from the other group am I? I'm running away from the man who wants to marry me?

Grace bit her lip. If she dashed down the alley behind the houses Worthington would see her. Her mouth dried, and she couldn't swallow. Fervently praying she'd reach the corner of Davies and Mount Streets before they did, she clasped her reticule more tightly and sidled toward the inside of the pavement.

It was then that everything went horribly wrong.

As she tripped over a massive paw and started to fall, a strong hand caught her arm. Heat seemed to radiate from him, drawing her to him.

“Duke, stand. I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, he wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him.”

Worthington's deep voice caressed her. It was all Grace could do to keep from turning toward him. Her arm tingled from his touch, and the rest of her wanted to fall into his arms.

Then fear, her familiar companion of late, pushed aside her desire for him. She'd lose everything that was important. If she spoke, he'd recognize her voice. All Grace could do was nod and mumble, making sure to keep her hat-brim between them. She made a motion to wave them on.

Worthington hovered over her, concern coloring his voice. “Are you sure you don't need any help?”

Oh God, why didn't he leave? Her heart raced and she was sure she'd faint. Taking large breaths of air, Grace shook her head and tried to pull her arm away.

“I shall help her ladyship,” her footman, Harold, said.

“Very well. I wish you a good day.” Worthington, sounding confused, released her and turned toward the Park.

“My lady, are you all right?” Harold asked.

Holding a hand to her chest, Grace nodded. “I'm fine. Let's go, shall we?”

Walking straight ahead, she crossed Mount Street and didn't stop until she reached Herndon House. Her hands shook as she tried to untie the bow to her hat. Finally the ribbons came undone. Tearing the hat off, she tossed it on her dressing table and fell across the bed before she collapsed. Too late did she remember he lived on Berkeley Square.

* * *

Matt and his sisters were halfway down Mount Street heading toward the Park, and he was still trying to understand what was so unusual about that lady.

Louisa frowned. “That was very odd. She wouldn't even look at us or talk to us.”

“Maybe she was horribly disfigured and is afraid to let any see her face,” Madeline piped up.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Augusta, in her know-it-all-voice, said. “If she'd been disfigured, she'd have worn a veil.”

“Well, no matter the reason.” Louisa gave her younger sisters a superior look. “I still think it's strange.”

Matt lowered his brows. “Very strange, indeed.”

And very familiar.
Glancing down at the hand that had touched her, he realized his fingers were still warm. Then it hit him as if he'd been punched.
She is my love
. She had to be. He'd never had that sort of reaction to another woman. Turning quickly back, he searched the street, but she was nowhere in sight. Then he started to walk toward Berkeley Square.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Louisa tugged at his arm. “If you want to go back, we must also.”

Damn
. His sister was right. He couldn't leave them, especially Louisa. And Matt wasn't going to take them on a chase through Mayfair to find his love. Still, she'd been in Berkeley Square. Who lived in there? Had he ever known? Matt had rented his own rooms for so long he had little idea who his neighbors were. Patience would know. If not, he'd knock on every single door if he had to. “Where is your mother?”

Louisa shrugged. “I believe she is attending a tea or visiting a friend.” She gazed up, her eyes shining. “Matt, we are going to a soirée at Lady Bellamny's house to-morrow evening. It will be my first London party.”

He summoned a smile. “I know you'll have fun.”

“Will you be there?”

“I doubt it. I'm dining with friends at my club.” He'd speak with his stepmother this evening.

He was so close to finding her, and, when he did, he'd discover why she ran away from him.

* * *

Grace's heart had finally stopped thudding so hard she was sure it would fly out of her breast, when Aunt Almeria knocked on her bedchamber door. “My dear, would you like to attend Lady Featherton's at home with Charlotte and me?”

Grace rose. “I am sorry, but I cannot. The children are arriving to-morrow. I must attend to some additional details at Stanwood House. This evening, Charlotte and I will dress there and come round to fetch you for dinner.” She glanced at her watch. “If I have time, I must go to Bond Street to exchange some ribbon that is not quite right.”

“If you are sure, my dear.”

“Quite sure.” Grace bussed her aunt's cheek. “You and Charlotte have a good time.”

Aunt Almeria's eyes grew misty. “I'm certain we shall. Oh Grace, she is so beautiful. Just what your mother looked like at that age.”

Suddenly, Grace's throat hurt. A portrait of her mother, not much older than Charlotte was now, hung in the Hall's gallery. “Yes, I know.”

Charlotte came into the room. “Aunt Almeria, are you ready to go?”

She blinked a few times. “Yes, my love. Grace, I'll see you this evening.”

There was much too much to accomplish before dinner for Grace to allow Worthington to disturb her so greatly. She gave herself a shake. Surely their meeting earlier was an aberration.

A half an hour later, she, Bolton, and May took the town coach to Stanwood House. Once they were settled and she had met with the chef, Grace sallied out to Bond Street followed by Harold to exchange the ribbon. She stepped out of the haberdasher's, then stopped. Worthington was across the street engaged in conversation with another gentleman. For a moment, she stood, frozen to the pavement.

He stopped speaking, and as if he could sense her presence, turned. The next thing she knew he had stepped purposefully into the busy street. A coach driver shouted, bringing his vehicle to a halt, and blocked her view of him.

This could not be happening. She was not prepared to speak to him. Not yet. Possibly not ever. “Harold, oh my, look at the time, we must return home immediately.”

She hurriedly turned down a little-used alley leading to Bruton Street.

The footman trotted to catch up to her. “My lady, why are we going this way?”

Grace faced straight ahead. “This was the shortcut, was it not? Ah, see, here is Bruton Street now, so much quicker than the other way.”

She stared straight ahead, not slowing to see if Worthington was following.

After striding swiftly down the pavement, passing a group of ladies, she slowed her pace and continued on calmly down the street until they came to the crossroad leading back to Berkeley Square.

As soon as she attained her room, Grace took off her hat and fell into a chair. Her heart was pounding, again. She was going to have apoplexy at this rate. How the deuce was she to avoid him for the rest of the Season?

* * *

Matt and his friend Rutherford had emerged from Jackson's Boxing Salon and stood on Bond Street talking when his neck began to tingle. He turned and saw a lady with a poke bonnet and blue ribbons. The same color ribbon as her eyes, how did he know that? It was also the same blue as the trim on the bonnet he'd seen earlier. He'd wished he'd seen his lady in the daylight. Still the female's height appeared right. She wouldn't get away from him this time. “Rutherford, I must go. I'll see you this evening.”

Rutherford raised his brows. “Yes, of course, see you then.”

Dodging carriages and carts, Matt strode rapidly across the street, but when he'd reached the other side, she was gone.

Where the devil did she go? It was like trying to find a phantom.

Grace smiled with pride as Charlotte pirouetted for her sister. “Very pretty indeed.”

Charlotte beamed. “I'm so glad we went to Madame's. This gown and all the others are so lovely. You look beautiful.”

“This is your evening, my dear. I am merely a chaperone.”

“But . . .”

“No, no.” Grace shook her head. “No arguing.”

This evening was Lady Bellamny's soirée for the young ladies making their come outs. Charlotte would be one of the most beautiful young ladies of the Season. Her pale yellow muslin evening gown, embroidered with small butterflies in green, blue, and gold, was perfect.

Grace clasped a single strand of matched pearls around her sister's neck and handed Charlotte a pair of small pearl earrings suspended on gold wire. It was hard to believe she was already making her come out.

If only Mama and Papa were here to see it. They would have been so proud of Charlotte. Tears pricked Grace's eyes.
Silly goose
. She was not going to cry.

A spangled shawl, delicate brisé fan, and a reticule completed her sister's ensemble. “Come, we do not want to be late. We must fetch our aunt before dinner with Lady Evesham.”

A short carriage ride later brought them to Herndon House where they joined Aunt Almeria in the drawing room.

She studied Charlotte, then nodded approvingly. “Well, you two will certainly do me credit.”

Charlotte would. Grace wished her aunt would give up including her in the husband hunt. “Thank you, Aunt. Shall we walk or take my town coach?”

Aunt Almeria's brows drew together in thought. “It's always tempting to stroll. Dunwood House is not so very far, but one would not want to walk across the square in evening slippers. They become ruined so easily.” She paused for a moment. “I'm sorry, my dear, but I have decided not to attend with you.”

Grace frowned. This was a surprise. “Is anything wrong?”

Aunt Almeria smiled gently. “No, no. Not wrong. It is just that your uncle is arriving home this evening, and I am always here to greet him when he returns. You have it well under control, and Lady Evesham will be with you. It is not necessary that I attend. I've already sent a note to Lady Bellamny. Do not fear. Once the Season is under way, I will help you decide which entertainments would be best to attend, and accompany Charlotte to all of them.”

How very sweet of Aunt Almeria to want to be home for her husband. At least this evening, there would be no chance of Worthington attending. It was ladies only. “I shall hold you to that. Come, Charlotte, we shall be off.”

“I'd like to walk. May I?” Charlotte asked.

“No, my dear, when I made the suggestion, I hadn't considered. Aunt Almeria is right, if your slippers got wet, they'd be ruined. We shall take the coach.”

“Yes, of course.” Charlotte straightened her shoulders, looking every inch a young lady. “How silly of me. Will there be dancing at the soirée?”

“Not at a soirée,” Aunt Almeria said. “That is a party for mingling.”

Grace kissed her aunt and took Charlotte's arm as they walked to the front door. “Besides which, dancing is not the purpose. It is for you girls just out to meet each other. That way when the balls begin after Easter, you will have friends.” And so the mamas can look over the competition, though her sister did not need to know that. “You must be on your best behavior. The patronesses of Almack's will be there as well.”

Charlotte's countenance became serious. “This is no longer practicing. It really is important.”

“Yes, it is.” Grace squeezed her sister's fingers. “But do not allow it to worry you. You'll be fine.”

Once at Dunwood House, she and Phoebe decided to take two carriages. One would return to Grosvenor Square and the other to Berkeley Square. When she and Charlotte were announced, Grace was surprised to see only Phoebe in the drawing room before dinner.

Phoebe came forward to greet them. “Since gentlemen are not expected at Lady Bellamny's, I sent Marcus to dine with his friends. Sherry?”

“For me, please,” Grace responded. “Charlotte will have lemonade.”

Once they had their glasses, Phoebe led them to a seating area in front of the fireplace. “A toast then to Charlotte's come out.”

After taking a sip of lemonade, Charlotte turned to Phoebe. “Why will there be no gentlemen?”

“There may be a few.” Phoebe grinned. “Yet not until later in the evening and only to escort the ladies home. Once the Season begins, you'll meet gentlemen aplenty. At present, you are better served by meeting other ladies your age and a few that have already had a Season or two.”

Charlotte tilted her head to one side, considering. “Yes, I suppose you are right. There is so much to learn.”

Grace suddenly wished she could be with her sister at all her events. Perhaps Worthington would give up attempting to find her, and she could be.

* * *

Matt had been unable to speak with his stepmother the previous evening. He'd left a note to be given to her when she arrived home, desiring a meeting as soon as it was convenient. The following afternoon, she sent a message asking Matt to meet her in the drawing room before dinner.

When he stalked into the room she placed her glass on the small side table next to her. “What has got you in such a taking?”

Matt paced the room. “I saw her again to-day, and she hid from me.”

Patience frowned. “What did she do?”

He stopped and scowled. “She wore a deuced—a—one of those large hats that hides a lady's face.”

“Well, Matt,” Patience laughed lightly, “they are fashionable.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to keep his frustration under control. It would do him no good to take it out on his stepmother. “She knew it was me and didn't acknowledge me.”

“It seems to me you are taking a lot for granted.” Patience seemed to study him for a moment. “How, pray, do you know that she is avoiding you?”

When he opened his mouth to speak, she stopped him. “No, no, start at the beginning.”

Matt told her how the lady tripped over Duke's feet when she'd tried to move closer to a house wall.

“Really, Worthington.” Patience cast an exasperated glance at the ceiling. “What lady wouldn't have wanted to hide herself after that embarrassing incident? I think you may find it is not at all what it seems.”

He frowned. “She was also on Bond Street earlier.”

Patience widened her eyes. “Did you see her face?”

“No, I saw her hat.” He began pacing again. “It had the same blue ribbons on it.”

“Blue is one of the more popular colors this Season. It could have been anyone. Aside from that, you told me she had not been to Town in a while. Why are you so sure she is here now?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. There was no point in arguing what he only felt. Patience might not believe him, but he knew his lady was here.

“What are you doing this evening?”

“I'm dining with Evesham and Rutherford.” He stopped and glanced at her. “I'll meet you at the soirée later to escort you home.”

“Mind, do not come before supper.” Patience's lips tilted up. “You know Lady Bellamny's rule, no gentlemen until then.”

“I won't.” He grinned and gave her a brotherly peck on her cheek. “Evesham and Rutherford are probably under orders as well.”

“You have fun at your club. Louisa and I are dining with Lady Rutherford.”

The door opened and Louisa stepped into the room. “Mama? Matt?”

Matt glanced at his little sister. The pale blue muslin gown embroidered in silver and dark blue was perfect. And it didn't make her appear too grown up. He'd have to keep a very close watch over her this Season. He took her hand and kissed it. “Louisa, you are beautiful. I'll have to hire more footmen. Large ones to protect you. Have a good time this evening.”

“I shall.” She smiled brilliantly. “Thank you for everything.”

He left the drawing room, and after donning his hat and gloves, strolled to Brooks. Matt had not had a chance to ask Rutherford about his mystery lady. Perhaps he might know who she was.

* * *

Grace and Charlotte made their slow way through the receiving line behind Phoebe.

The formidable Lady Bellamny was even larger than she'd been before. She now had three chins instead of two. Her eyes lit up when she held her hand out to Grace. “Lady Grace, I haven't seen you in a dog's age. How are you, my dear?”

Grace curtseyed. “Very well, my lady. May I present you to my sister Lady Charlotte?”

Charlotte curtseyed.

Lady Bellamny inclined her head. “Very pretty. Very pretty indeed. The gentlemen will have a hard time resisting you.” She turned to Grace. “What's her portion?”

Grace allowed a slight smile to play on her lips. “Thirty thousand.”

Lady Bellamny nodded sagely and glanced at Charlotte. “Stay away from the fortune hunters and rakes.”

Charlotte smiled politely. “I will, my lady.”

“Pretty manners.” Lady Bellamny turned to Grace. “You've done a good job. She didn't even blink an eye.”

Charlotte refrained from grinning, but her lips twitched.

Nodding, Lady Bellamny patted Charlotte's shoulder. “You'll do, my dear. Follow your sister's lead.”

“Yes, my lady.” Charlotte's lips deepened into a grin.

Grace took her arm as they joined Phoebe.

“Grace?” Charlotte whispered.

“Not now.” Grace smiled politely and nodded to acquaintances. “We will discuss everything when we are back home.”

It was just like Lady Bellamny to test the young ladies as they walked in the door. By the end of the evening, she'd have every girl's measure.

Grace and Charlotte were announced and descended into the already crowded ballroom where Phoebe awaited them with a look of enquiry on her face.

Proud of her sister, Grace grinned. Even though Charlotte had been skittish at first, Grace had known her sister was ready for her come out. “She did well.”

Phoebe smiled warmly at Charlotte. “Excellent.”

“Thank you.”

They accompanied Phoebe to meet new ladies and renew old acquaintances, including Phoebe's mother-in-law, Lady Dunwood, and her aunt, Lady St. Eth.

The dark-haired young matron Grace had seen outside of Madame's shop glided toward them.

Phoebe took Grace's hand and turned to the lady. “Anna, come meet my friend, Lady Grace Carpenter, and her sister, Lady Charlotte. Ladies, this, my good friend, Lady Rutherford.”

Anna lightly bussed Phoebe's cheek and extended her hand to Grace. “My pleasure. May I present Lady Louisa Vivers? She is also making her come out.”

Worthington's sister? Oh my. Did that mean Worthington would be here later? Grace kept her countenance calm as Lady Louisa curtseyed to her. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Turning to Charlotte, Grace said, “You girls may take yourselves off to meet more of the young ladies coming out this Season.”

Phoebe nodded. “Yes, do.”

“Look for us later,” Anna added, then turned to Grace and Phoebe. “She and her mother dined with me this evening, but a message was brought round that one of Lady Worthington's other daughters was complaining of an upset stomach. As a result I volunteered to escort her.”

Grace let go of the breath she'd held. Thank the Lord she'd have more time to decide what to do about Worthington.

During her musings, she remembered that she had met the second Lady Worthington during her first Season. Although Grace didn't expect the lady to remember her, she did not want to take the chance and was glad the lady wasn't here. They arrived at a small sofa with two comfortable chairs flanking it. She encouraged Phoebe and Anna, who was also increasing, to sit. “There seems to be a remarkable number of good-looking girls.”

Phoebe settled back against the cushions. “Yes, but I've seen none more beautiful than the two we just had with us. Not only their faces, but their manners as well.”

Grace blushed. “I'm so pleased you think so.”

Soon the ladies settled into a comfortable coze. Old friends and some she'd kept up a correspondence with stopped by and visited. She'd forgotten how isolated she had been at Stanwood Hall, and wished she would be able to attend more of the parties this Season. Yet with Worthington searching for her, it was simply too dangerous. How incredibly reckless she'd been with him. Although she couldn't bring herself to regret the night, only the consequences.

Before Grace knew it, it was time for supper. Glancing around, she saw Charlotte and Lady Louisa with a group of other girls.

“Shall we go down to the supper room?” Phoebe asked.

“Yes, let's.” Anna rose from the chair. “I am famished. It's amazing how my appetite has grown along with my waist.”

Several moments later, Grace was enjoying a lobster patty and taking a sip of champagne when Phoebe exclaimed, “Oh, here is Marcus, and Rutherford.”

Yet when Grace looked up, Lord Worthington was staring down at her. Her hand trembled so much, her champagne sloshed in the glass. He plucked it from her numb fingers and set it on the table. Concern shadowed his eyes.

He bowed. “My lady. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you again.”

The room spun. This was too soon. Much too soon. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. “I—I think I need some air.”

Grace rose and quickly strode toward the terrace doors.