Authors: Penny Richards
“Of course, you are allowed all of the temper you wish.”
“That is enough, both of you.” Maggie stood and glared at them. “Elizabeth, Brandon told us ten minutes ago he was willing to tell us what we wanted to know about his betrothed, but your barbed remarks have kept us in the dark still.”
“My noble defender!” Brandon bowed his head and kissed the tip of his fingers to her.
“Do not be flirting with me,” she said. “You are just as bad as LizaâI mean Elizabeth.”
He wanted to word his announcement carefully. Liza was determined to be unpleasant and Maggie already pictured him with six children. He decided to honor Grace's wishes against lying to them.
“Her name is Lady Grace Endicott and she is the Earl of Pennington's daughter.”
Elizabeth could not hold back her exclamation. “I do not know the Earl of Pennington, but if you have been smart enough to choose an earl's daughter, then I owe you an apology!”
“I can die happy now, to be sure,” he muttered.
“Go on, Brandon.”
“I did decide during the Little Season that I might look around for a wifeâdoing my duty, isn't that what you call it, Elizabeth? You may think what you like about Patrice Winslow, but I have never offered for her or given her cause to believe that I would. You may ease your minds on that score.
“I recently attended a house party in Rivenhall. While in Essex, I was introduced to Lady Grace. Her father and I share an interest in the Elgin Marbles.” Grace would have been proud of him, not a single untruth. He smiled at the thought. “My admiration of Lady Grace grew rather quickly and I offered for her.” Still the truth, although stretched to the breaking point.
“We wished to keep our betrothal a secret, as I had not yet been able to inform you. However, we both stopped at the same inn on our way to London. Grace is bringing her sister to Town for her come-out,” he added in the way of explanation. “Unfortunately, the Marchmonts were staying at the same inn and quickly saw my attachment to Grace.” He did not owe his starched-up sister any more details.
“I knew they would gossip, no matter what the circumstances, and we did not wish them to spread any malicious tale, so we informed them of our betrothal. They beat us to London. I apologize that you had to find out that way. It was certainly not our intention.
“The announcement will be in the papers tomorrow and I would ask that you both help us get over the rough ground as well as we can. What I care about most is that she and her sister are treated with every courtesy and respect.” He said the last looking at Elizabeth.
“I see nothing distasteful in what you have told us. However, the Marchmonts are relating some intimacy between you and the girl. Really, Brandon, you must learn propriety.”
“They saw no inappropriate intimacy, madam, except the kissing of her hand.” He was angry now. He would hear nothing against Grace. “She is a lady in the truest sense of the word, and I will not have her slandered by you or anyone else. You may direct anyone who does straight to me.”
“Yes, yes, this is all well and good. Having their father with them will scotch that type of thing quickly.”
“The earl has not accompanied them to London. Their aunt is chaperoning them. But I believe his
name
will accomplish the same outcome.”
“Who is this aunt? What is her name?”
“I cannot remember exactly,” he said, stopping as Elizabeth shook her head. “It is Grace's mother's sister, so I know her name is not Endicott. I think it begins with a
B,
but I cannot swear to it. I do know that they call her Aunt Aggie.”
Elizabeth practically jumped out of her seat. “Could it be Agatha Burstow? She has almost as many connections as we do! This gets better and better, and I had not thought it of you. If, when we meet the girl, she is passable and well trained, all will be perfect. We can plan on a wedding at St. George's in July.”
“Elizabeth, as much as your approval warms my heart,” he said with irony, “I believe Grace is capable of making her own wedding plans. She is not a school room miss. And as to being passable, as long as
I
feel she is acceptable, I cannot see how that will affect you.”
“Brandon,” said Maggie, having remained silent during his exchange with Elizabeth, “tell me what she is like. Will I like her? Is she pretty? Will she like me?”
“Maggie, your husband's Irish curiosity is wearing off on you,” he teased. “Is she pretty? Yes, I certainly think so, though I would say she is handsomeâeven beautiful. She has the most interesting eyes.” Her face rose before him, her verdant eyes laughing at him. “Will you like each other? I hope so. Truth to tell, I have not known her long enough myself to have learned a great deal of her tastes. But she adores
her
sister, so I would like to think she will like mine. She has an excellent mind and has been helping run her father's estate for several years.”
“Enough of that drivel, Margaret,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Brandon, you must arrange a meeting between us as soon as possible so these nasty rumors may be put to rest. Do you think we could arrange tea with Mrs. Burstow two days hence? We may then decide the best plan of presentation and at which affairs you should start the Season.”
He held back a sharp response. “I told you at the start that I would give them the time they needed before being available to you. Two days' time is barely enough. I will ask them when it is convenient for them, but if they agree to see you early, I will hear no complaints about their outmoded dress or the house being at sixes and sevens.”
“Brandon, I don't care a jot how they are dressed. I want to meet the woman you love.”
* * *
“There is nothing of use here,” Aunt Aggie exclaimed as she threw gown after gown on the bed and over chairs, while rummaging through their wardrobes the next morning. “Girls, get your hats, we are going shopping!”
Lydia was very excited to see London fashions, but Grace knew this was all a waste of time and money on her behalf.
“I do not wish to hear one word from you, my dear,” her aunt scolded when she tried to resist. “You are to be a marchioness and will dress accordingly.” She knew no way to tell her aunt the new clothes would not be needed, so she accepted defeat as graciously as she could.
Day and walking dresses, evening and ball gowns were ordered for each of them! That was the
minimum
Aunt Aggie would allow. She reminded her modiste of the business she had referred her way over the years, and graciously extracted a promise that at least two of the day dresses would be ready the next morning. Reminding the woman that she was dressing a future marchioness sealed the bargain.
When they returned to Berkeley Square, the post awaited them, and the girls jumped when Aunt Aggie shrieked. “Dear Grace, Lord Weston is asking permission to bring his sisters here the day after tomorrow to meet you.” She returned the missive to the salver. “That settles it. Tomorrow we will have to go to the milliners for hats and the bootmakers for shoes. Oh, dear, and we must go to Pantheon's Bazaar for your underclothes and stockings. It seems the marquess is eager to present you to his sisters. That is as it should be, and we will be ready!”
The day after tomorrow? Things were moving too fast for Grace. This Season was supposed to be about Lydia, and she would remind them of that. She would also have to show Lord Weston that his high-handedness would not be tolerated. He did not even have the courtesy to ask if it was convenient for them!
“Grace, there is a missive for you here, as well,” Lydia said, exclaiming over the lovely vellum.
“I cannot image who would be writing to me,” she said, perplexed. Lord Weston would communicate through her chaperone, as was proper. She glanced at the frank on the envelope. It
was
from Lord Weston. He did, indeed, flout Society without a care! As she unfolded the page, a newspaper clipping drifted out of the note. She bent to pick it up and noticed it was their betrothal announcement cut from the
London Gazette.
She turned her attention to his missive, and blushed at the first line.
Dear Grace,
I hope the day after tomorrow is not too inconvenient for you and your aunt. I fear our desire to take things slowly was a bit unrealistic. According to my sisters, rumors run rampant, and they are likely correct (as much as I hate to admit it). We must put a halt to the gossip.
However, if you are not comfortable about the day after tomorrow, please let me know and I will tie my sisters up somewhere until a better time presents itself.
Your Servant,
B.R.
P.S. I do hope the announcement meets with your approval. I left out the explanation of our falling head over heels in love to save space. I will be more effusive in the letter to your father.
Grace laughed out loud and supposed that must be the whole problem with rakesâtheir charm!
“Does his missive to you say anything different, Grace, dear?” Aunt Aggie asked, as she surreptitiously tried to read the letter over Grace's shoulder.
“No, Aunt, except that Lord Weston
does
say if the day after tomorrow is not convenient, we must let him know and he will set a later date.”
“I suppose we may as well leave it as it is,” her aunt said with a martyred expression. “I have never met the younger one, but I can tell you from experience that his eldest sister, Lady Wright, sets herself up as a leader in Society.” She whispered to Grace so Lydia would not hear, “I believe she is a veritable dragon.”
“If you truly believe so then you and her brother agree wholeheartedly, dear aunt!”
Chapter Six
T
he silence in the drawing room was deafening. Lady Wright and Mrs. Hale were seated on the striped sofa across from Grace's aunt, drinking tea. Lord Weston stood leaning against the mantel, arms crossed over his chest. He was enjoying himself immensely.
He
had always been the focus of attention in drawing rooms such as this. Now he stood back and watched as these three women took each other's measure. He'd seen concentrated focus a thousand times over games of chance, when even the blink of an eye could determine which card was played. But this was as intense as any he'd seen, and he would wager the stakes were just as high to these ladies. It was only the first of many new pleasures he expected this Season, thanks to his lovely affianced.
As the strain rose and topics of conversation became fewer, he thought about returning to the great hall, a room he would love to explore. It was one of the most interesting entrance halls he had ever seen, one that had likely taken a woman's deft hand to make so beautiful. He wondered if that hand was Grace's.
He was brought back to the present by the strain in her aunt's voice as she attempted to converse with his overbearing sister. He was thankful for Maggie, or the uneasy silence would have driven him mad. “I pray you will forgive Grace and Lydia for not coming in immediately to greet you. As you know, they arrived in London two days ago and the modiste only delivered the first of their gowns moments ago.”
Brandon knew what a coup that was to anyone who understood the fashion world, as did his sisters, so he gave the first round to Mrs. Burstow.
“Lord Weston had assured Grace you would understand if they presented themselves a little outdated, but I would not hear of it. I insisted they change immediately.” Her tone was almost arrogant, Brandon noted. This was going to be most enjoyable. Even Gentleman Jackson himself, with his famous boxing club, might not have witnessed such a bout as was brewing between Grace's aunt and his sister.
At that moment, the door opened and Grace and Lydia came into the room. Both performed demure curtseys, but Lydia, in her nervousness, was the first to speak. “We are terribly sorry to be so late. Good morning, my lord,” she finished, as if it had taken all her bravery. He smiled at her and winked.
Grace's aunt rose and brought the girls forward as she introduced them. “Lady Wright, Mrs. Hale, this is Grace and this is Lydia.”
Before anyone else could speak, Elizabeth rose from the sofa, strode over to Grace and held out her hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Grace. I am Elizabeth, Lady Wright, and this is my sister, Margaret, Mrs. Hale.”
Maggie could not be so stiff. “Lady Grace, Lady Lydia, I am so happy to meet you both. We have descended upon you far too soon, but we could not wait to visit our new sisters.” Her smile was infectious.
Brandon stepped away from the mantel and gazed long and hard at Grace. He walked over to her, took her hand, kissed it and laid it on his arm. “It is good to see you again, my dear. The new gown was definitely worth the wait. You look beautiful.”
Silence fell again in the room and Grace blushed. She raised her eyes to his and he hoped he saw his amusement reflected in hers.
She removed her hand from his and finally smiled at him. She turned back to his sisters. “Lady Wright, Mrs. Hale, we are happy to make your acquaintance, as well.”
The tension in the room eased considerably and Lord Weston nodded his approval over Lydia's head. Grace's poise was phenomenal and he knew she would do well in London. He knew then, too, that he would not find it an onerous task to have her on his arm for the next few weeks.
Maggie joined in by walking to Grace and hugging her. “I am so happy you are to be part of our family.” Her smile was genuine.
Grace's aunt began seating everyone again, and motioned for Grace to pour tea for herself and Lydia.
Brandon went back to the mantel, where he could watch all the faces in the room. But his first notice was of Grace's new gown. It was dark blue with tiny white stripes. The sash at her waist was also white; he noted that she eschewed the Empire style, at least with this dress. A wide white stand-up collar completed the confection. At her age, she was able to wear colors, and in her new gown she looked somewhat regal. He liked it.
Lydia had not spoken a word since her opening remarks, but she had ended up next to Maggie, and Brandon knew his sister would do everything in her power to make the girl more comfortable. “This is a beautiful home. We were commenting on it earlier.”
“Thank you,” she murmured shyly.
Grace smiled at Maggie and winked at Lydia. “We must be perfectly honest with you, Mrs. Hale. Lydia had never been to the town house before two days ago. I have been in London several times and have come to love my mother's touch everywhere. The entry hall is my favorite. I hope you may soon see the way the chandelier lights up the tapestries in the evenings. And I must introduce you to Max before you leave. He is my knight in shining armor!” She smiled at each of them.
Brandon watched as she effortlessly protected Lydia
and
let her love for the house show in her words. That his favorite room was the same as hers did not surprise him.
“But my father rarely comes to Town, so it is almost as new to Lydia as it is to you. Our betrothal,” she said, as she looked at Lord Weston and blushed, “happened rather unexpectedly. Our true purpose in coming to London is to bring Lydia out.”
“Oh, I see,” Maggie said, smiling at them both. “This shall be a most exciting Season. Lady Lydia will be the reigning belle, and with your wedding, Society may never be the same!”
Finally, his sister Elizabeth spoke again. “I see we have much more to do than I'd originally realized. I am very glad we pushed for this hasty introduction. We have much to discuss. I think the sooner we get some of the details settled, the sooner we can begin our planning.”
His sister had directed her words to Grace's aunt, assuming, he supposed, that the two younger women had no notion how to go on. Brandon could see Grace's eyes beginning to flash emerald, and thought his sister might finally have met her match.
“Brandon,” Elizabeth continued, “I am sure you must have somewhere else you would rather be. You may take yourself off while we discuss arrangements.”
He did have an appointment with Lord Langdon in an hour; he wanted to be sure he saw him as soon as possible after the announcement in the paper. But he would stay where he was for as long as he could. He did not want to miss a moment! “Elizabeth, I resent the assertion that I would rather be anywhere but with my intended,” he said in a wounded tone.
He leaned casually back against the mantel and waited for the fireworks.
* * *
Grace sat listening quietly for several minutes, her practical self screaming to get out.
“I do not see why we cannot combine the two events to some extent, do you?” Lady Wright asked Grace's aunt. “I think, however, the first thing we need to decide is the date of the wedding. Lady Lydia will certainly be a big part of all the betrothal celebrations, and will be seen in the best Society.”
“
Grace and I
will decide when the wedding will be,” Lord Weston interjected decidedly.
“Well, of course you will, Brandon,” Lady Wright admonished. “But since neither of you has planned a wedding before, we are only offering our advice.”
“Of course you are, Elizabeth,” he mocked her. “As of yet, however, we have not discussed a date. Therefore, we will need time to make our decision.” Brandon looked at Grace and asked, “Does that meet with your approval, love?”
She would have to ignore the endearment, which she was positive he used with every woman he met. “May I make a suggestion?” she asked. Her teeth were beginning to clench and she had to force herself to keep a smile on her face. “Perhaps we should begin by planning Lydia's come-out, as we originally intended. Lord Weston and I may then share in
her
events. After all, our betrothal has already been announced.”
The room turned into a cacophony of sound as everyone started to speak at once.
“We appreciate your concern for your sister,” Lady Wright began, “but the engagement of a marquess certainly has priority over the come-out of a young lady.”
“Oh, Lady Grace, you have hit on just the thing,” Maggie said excitedly, getting into the spirit. “We can schedule Lady Lydia's come-out ball, introduce her to our friends, and your aunt's, of course, and then also officially celebrate your betrothal at that same ball!”
“Oh, Grace!” Lydia ran across the room and sat down beside her. “I do not mind if your wedding takes precedence. You know I do not.”
“Enough!”
Lord Weston demanded from the fireplace. All sound in the room stopped except for the teacups rattling in their saucers. He looked at each individual in turn, finally settling his glance on Grace. He walked to her and pulled her up gently by the hand to stand next to him.
“Grace, I will not have them ride roughshod over you. Do you feel capable and well able to handle this?” She nodded. “Good.”
He then turned to the rest of the room at large. “I believe Lady Grace has as much experience socially, albeit not always in London, to adequately plan her sister's come-out. I agree with her suggestion that we keep the main focus on Lydia, and share our engagement celebrations with her.” Grace could have kissed him! “Mrs. Burstow, Grace has not had a wedding, however, and I feel sure she will appreciate any
advice
you and my sisters may offer.”
But Lady Wright had her back up. “I had planned on offering Wright House for your betrothal ball. It is just outside of town and would prevent the crush of carriages such a large ball usually entails. But clearly, you know better than I. Margaret, we can leave, and I am sure they will let us know the date of the wedding.” She reached over to the table next to her and lifted her muff.
Grace's frustration grew. Brandon's deliberate setdown of his sister had to be smoothed over. “Please, my lady, do not wash your hands of us yet. Lord Weston seems quite used to getting his own way. But I
know
he could never mean to exclude any of you in the process of coordinating such a large event. You are more than kind to offer your home for our ball, and we will be delighted to accept. What I hoped was that we could begin with Lydia's introduction into Society
first,
so that she may meet people her own age, and do the pretty to all of Aunt Aggie's friends.” She paused to see if there was any thaw at all in Lady Wright. There was not.
“Of course, I will need to be with her as Aunt Aggie chaperones her to a few of these preliminary entertainments, but I see no need for Lord Weston to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to such tame activities.” She smiled at Mrs. Hale's choked laugh. “When Lydia goes to her first ball, or whichever function his lordship wishes to attend, I am sure we will receive our fair share of congratulations on our engagement.”
Lord Weston summed it up. “If you are still so inclined, Elizabeth, we may share with Grace's sister the ball you wish to host. As Lydia will be your new sister-in-law, I do not think anyone would look askance if her ball were at your home. Would three weeks' time be adequate to prepare? Elizabeth, you and Grace may select the date that best suits you both.”
Grace began to squirm as she realized that was very close to the time she intended to call
off
the engagement. They could not plan Lydia's come-out ball at Lady Wright's home if she and Lord Weston were no longer betrothed! She tried tugging her hand from his, but he only tightened his grip. “Indeed, it will be quite a coup for us all, and I would certainly be more than grateful.”
“Tomorrow, Grace and I will begin making and receiving calls to introduce Lydia,” Aunt Aggie said, tapping her finger against her chin. “Within a week, we may all be able to attend functions together, to share the two celebrations.”
Lord Weston kept Grace's hand in his and she finally stopped struggling. Oh, but she would love to give him a piece of her mind. Why would he not let her go?
“Elizabeth, I will be removing the Weston emeralds from the vault to have them cleaned,” he announced. “I will present the ring to Grace at the earliest possible moment. That should stop the tongues that may still be wagging.”
Grace turned toward him in surprise and grabbed his hand with both of hers. She did not stop to think before she spoke. “My lord, that is not necessary. Please, do not feel obliged to pass your family heirlooms to me.”
She realized from the thundercloud in his eyes and the gasp from his sisters that she had made a major faux pax. “Love,” Lord Weston said, practically growling the word, “they are now
your
jewels, as my betrothed. Their major purpose is not to keep the gossipmongers in tow. I
want
you to have your betrothal ring.”
Surprisingly, it was Lydia who recognized the possibility of another heated exchange between the two, and in her bravest voice yet, she said, “Perhaps Grace and Lord Weston would like a few minutes alone. Aunt Aggie, could we not show Lord Weston's sisters the rest of the house?”
The four women rose to leave the room. As Maggie walked past her brother, she whispered, “Behave yourself, Brandon.” She followed the others, asking if they might not use their Christian names, as they were all to be family. The door closed behind them.
“Determined to botch this, my dear?” he drawled, finally letting Grace's hand go free.
She sat on the sofa and dropped her head in her hands. “I knew I would not be able to do this.”
He came to her, knelt in front of her and raised her face to his. “I am sorry, love. Do not cry. Just think before you blurt out your feelings. I have complete trust in you. We shall come about, I promise.”