A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (57 page)

Gil’s eyes narrowed. They dismounted
and handed their reins to the waiting groom. “Yes, well. We’ll have
to try this again sometime soon. With no head starts next time! I
like my wins to be fair.” They walked side-by-side back to the
manor house, a comfortable companionship between them.

How many more days like this would he
have with his friend?

Chapter Eight

Aunt Dorothea had an invitation in her
hands when she turned to her husband. “Laurence, Sir Augustus
Wellesley has invited us all over for an evening of entertainments
Tuesday next at Brightstone. Shall we accept? I think it would be
lovely.”

Aunt Dorothea pointedly avoided
Grace’s eyes.

Uncle Laurence never looked up from
his papers and tea. “Sir Augustus? That should be fine dear. Do
write out an acceptance and send it along.”

An evening of entertainments?
Certainly such things went on in the country almost as often as in
Town, but shouldn’t she avoid such an affair? It seemed the perfect
way for word to travel to Father, and then he would know where she
had run. Dare she take such a risk?

It was one thing to visit with Lord
Rotheby and Lord Alexander and then picnic with them on the river.
An entertainment was something else entirely. The risk seemed much
too high. Besides, if someone there had heard of her situation,
only shame and scorn could come to the Kensingtons for allowing her
to stay with them. She couldn’t allow such a thing to come to pass,
even if they were willing.

“
Aunt Dorothea,” Grace
said, hesitant to broach the subject, “would it not be more prudent
for me to remain at New Hill…considering the circumstances? Perhaps
you should accept the invitation for yourself and Uncle Laurence,
but not for me.”

Please let her aunt agree with her
suggestion. Staying behind was clearly the only solution. She could
avoid anyone who might know Father—and she could also avoid
chancing another encounter with Lord Alexander. The man was far too
handsome, not to mention virile, for Grace’s comfort.

Truth be told, the opportunity to run
into Lord Alexander was a far greater deterrent than her Father’s
discovery at the moment. She seemed to lose all control over her
emotions, and also her body, in his presence. Not a good
combination.

Not at all.

“
Why, I’ll hear of no such
thing, Gracie. Of course, you must accompany us. Sir Augustus would
be offended if we did not bring you along. Your Uncle Laurence told
me just this morning about how he ran into the baronet on a ride
through town, and they discussed your visit. You simply must join
us. It would be most unpardonably rude to stay home.”

Splendid. She bit the inside of her
lower lip and frowned. There could be no point in further argument.
Grace resigned herself to attending the event.

Would Lord Alexander be
there?

~ * ~

Alex dressed before a cheval mirror
and tied his own blasted cravat. It took him far less time to
accomplish the task on his own for some reason than with the
assistance of his valet. He would have to speak to Thomas about
that, after the man recovered from the chill he had taken. Granted,
Alex couldn’t attain the same level of perfection when tying the
neck cloth himself, but that should be no excuse. He was liable to
become an addle-pate during the time it took his valet to tie the
deuced thing.

He’d flatly refused Gil’s offer of his
valet’s services. Alex wanted to get this evening over with, and
waiting around for servants to complete such simple tasks would
only delay the inevitable. He had somehow convinced himself the end
of the evening would arrive sooner if he and Gil got started with
it sooner. Surely there was some logic in the
thought—somewhere.

Once dressed, he made his way to the
front salon of Roundstone Park.

Even with the services of a
valet to tie
his
cravat, Gil had finished dressing before him. Alex definitely
needed to have a firm word with Thomas. Good Lord—was he becoming a
dandy? Impossible. Best to ignore such frightful thoughts. Dandies
had no concern for speed and efficiency, but only with frippery and
finery.

“
Shall we be off, then?”
Gil asked. He straightened himself out of the armchair where he was
waiting and gingerly adjusted his evening coat.

“
If you are certain you are
up to an evening out, Gil.”

The older man nodded
brusquely.

“
Well, if you tire before
the night is through, we’ll leave at once. Just say the
word.”

Alex wanted Rotheby to visit with his
friends. He did. But wouldn’t it be easier on his health for those
friends to pay a visit to Roundstone Park? Surely they must see
what he recognized about the earl’s health. Alex could not be the
only one aware of Gil’s decline. Later, Alex would have to broach
the subject with him—perhaps after they retired for the evening.
Except that would mean discussing Gil’s health, which as to that
point, the man had staunchly avoided any such discussion
about.

They left in Gil’s carriage and
traveled the short distance to Brightstone. Lanterns lined the
walkways of the drive and carriages abounded as the various guests
made their entrance.

The atmosphere was more
relaxed than a typical
ton
ball. Good thing. Alex wasn’t prepared for that
sort of display. These revelers greeted each other as old
friends—shaking hands, slapping each other on the back, and the
like. They wore what he assumed to be their best evening wear, yet
the attire worn by most of the guests would not be in quite the
first stare of fashion according to Town standards. It was all far
more comfortable in his estimation, and less cliquish.

Sir Augustus Wellesley, an elderly and
portly gentleman with as much hair growing from his chin as from
the top of his head, greeted them with a jovial smile at the front
of his home. While Brightstone was not as grand in scale as
Roundstone Park, it was certainly spacious and comfortable, with
ample food and drink, and, of course, excellent
conversation.

Alex was charmed the moment he stepped
within.

He and Gil made moved inside, with the
earl hailing his neighbors as they passed. Peers mingled with
country gentlemen, and even with a few members of the merchant
class.

The idea that they could all spend an
evening together would be shunned by many of his contemporaries,
but why shouldn’t they all socialize together? They lived close by
and did business together. There was no reason they should operate
in entirely separate circles.

Alex enjoyed country life more and
more the longer he stayed. Of course, he missed his family and a
few friends in London as well, particularly Sir Jonas Buchannan, a
jolly good fellow, and Derek Redgrave, the fiendishly handsome
rascal. And, of course, Priscilla and little Harry. But he was
content with the lifestyle of the country.

He had not told Gil, or anyone for
that matter, but he had begun making enquiries about properties he
could purchase nearby. None yet quite suited his needs, but he
would not give up until he found the perfect estate to raise a
family.

Because, rather frequently, he was
entertaining thoughts about working the land. The life of a country
gentleman held a good deal of appeal for him. Frankly, the idea had
taken him by surprise, but it seemed to be the answer to all of his
problems. He had come to Somerton to discover how he wanted to
spend the rest of his life, and there it lay, right before
him.

Alex would still be able to travel to
Town when the desire struck, but he’d prefer to stay away from the
hustle and bustle of the city, in general.

He wanted to find a wife,
start a family, actually have a
home
of his own, and not continuously
hang on his brother’s sleeve. He wanted to be useful, to serve a
purpose. To find life meant more than just wasting time at the
gaming hells and gentlemen’s clubs and balls, all the while
watching hordes of money float away.

If he found some place to suit nearby,
he could be close to Gil. Not to mention he would be close to
Peter’s principle seat. The possibility remained that Peter would
someday take a new duchess and retire to the country—however
unlikely such a possibility seemed. He wanted to be near his
family. How better to arrange it than by purchasing an estate near
his brother’s?

On top of all that, if he settled in
the country, he could bring Priscilla and Harry out here—away from
the prying eyes in the city. They could be comfortable here. He
could set them up with a small home, something that they could be
comfortable. Somewhere that they could be close by. He hated not
having them near.

He was startled from his thoughts when
Lady Grace entered the ballroom with her aunt and uncle. There was
no reason he should not have expected to see them at the evening’s
soiree. The Kensingtons were some of the more prominent residents
of Somerton. Yet he was thoroughly unnerved by the sight of the
woman he was trying his damnedest to avoid.

She looked very pretty this evening in
a primrose silk with golden netting and a modest neckline that gave
a hint of the bosom hidden beneath. Her black coiffure, for once,
fell in loose curls about her face, beckoning him to twine one
about his finger, even from a distance.

Alex hardened at the sight. Fiend
seize it. He needed to think of something else—anything else. He
shifted to remove her from his line of vision.

Miss Wellesley, the eldest daughter of
the baronet whom he had just met, slid into place where Lady Grace
had been in his vision. “My lords, we’ll enjoy a game of charades
in the drawing room, if you’d care to join us. And Papa has also
mentioned there will be card games in the salon, if you would
prefer that form of entertainment instead.” She smiled prettily at
them both and executed a perfect curtsy.

“
Cards!” Gil said with an
eager grin. “I daresay Sir Augustus will try to beat me again at
whist, though he will fail. Miss Wellesley, Alex, please excuse
me.” The earl headed off toward the salon.

After watching him go, Alex turned
back to Miss Wellesley. “Charades would be lovely. Please, lead the
way.” He glanced over to where he last saw Lady Grace. She was
gone, and he chided himself for being concerning himself with her
activities. It didn’t matter one whit if she was to dance, or play
charades, or gamble her entire life away on a hand of cards. He
must stop thinking about her. She had made it quite clear by the
river she wanted nothing to do with him. Forgetting her was his
only option, however difficult the task.

Alex forced his thoughts instead to
the young lady leading him to the drawing room. Miss Wellesley was
the daughter of a country gentleman. Perfectly acceptable lineage.
The girl had a perfect English Rose complexion, complete with the
fair hair that was all the crack in Town. And unlike Lady Grace,
Miss Wellesley was nearly as tall as he was, with the top of her
head falling just above his eye line.

Maybe he ought to pay more attention
to her tonight. If there was dancing later, he’d ask for her hand
in a set. After all, what better distraction was there than another
pretty young lady?

Miss Wellesley led him into the
drawing room. A quick glance around had his heart thudding to a
stop in his chest. Lady Grace had already joined the party. She
locked eyes with his for the briefest moment and then looked
away.

“
Why don’t we split the
room in half?” their hostess suggested. “Mr. Maxwell, you’ll join
the group closest to the fire there to make the teams even.”
Mumbling and movement took control of the room for a few moments
while everyone resituated themselves.

Lady Grace was assigned to the team
with Mr. Maxwell, a large, rather boorish looking man with a long
nose that took over most of his face. Alex found it difficult to
keep his eyes anywhere but on the two of them.

Miss Wellesley started the game off.
She pulled a slip of paper from Mr. Someone-or-Other’s hat and
stood before the group. When she held up three fingers, shouts of
“Three words!” filled his side of the drawing room. Blasted
games.

A movement near Lady Grace caught his
eye. Maxwell inched closer to her until his arm almost touched the
edge of Lady Grace’s gown. Bloody bastard. Alex quelled the growl
forming low in his throat. It wouldn’t do to lose all sense of
decorum in front of an entire houseful of people.

Miss Wellesley rubbed one hand against
her mid-section with the other hand cupped against her ear. Another
chorus of shouts rose up about him. “Sounds like
stomach!”

“
Stomach? A poet with a
name that sounds like stomach?”

“
Belly, you fools. Sounds
like belly.” No one heard Alex’s mumbling, or at the very least
they ignored his impertinence.

He tried ignore them all while Miss
Wellesley touched her nose and pointed like a madwoman to some
young miss near the hearth. And again, Maxwell drew his attention
when the tips of his fingers grazed the netting of Lady Grace’s
gown. Alex’s breathing became labored and shallow.