Authors: Penny Richards
She was aghast! Had she shown him, revealed in her eyes, the love she felt for him? What was she doing?
He would not let her back away. She knew he was going to kiss her, and at this moment, she wanted him to. She wanted to have one real kiss to remember, along with the rest of her close-kept memories of their time together. She knew he despised marriage and love; he had said so many times. But she no longer cared. She loved him and wanted that kiss.
He leaned his face down and she swallowed nervously, staring at his mouth. Neither of them was prepared when the door to the library slammed open and her father bellowed, “What is going on here? I thought you needed to
speak
to this gentleman! Grace, you know better than this.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion that was about to occur. Her father might be disappointed in her, but he would be mad as a hornet at Brandon. And she had lost her kiss. It stunned her a little that she did not think she could make it through this night without it.
“Lord Pennington, sir.” Brandon went forward with his hand outstretched. “Good to see you again. I am sorry we took so long, I am solely to blame. You see, I have wanted this age to give the family emeralds to Grace, and only today got them back from the jeweler. I wished to give them to her privatelyâI am sure you understand. And she looks most beautiful, does she not? I know you cannot fault a man for wanting to be alone with the woman he loves, on such an occasion.”
He sounded so convincing she could pretend it was all true.
“But we are ready to be on our way, and delighted you have come to preside over the festivities,” Brandon added. “Grace looks up to you tremendously, sir, and I am glad she will have you here to share this evening.”
After shaking her father's hand, he came back to Grace, putting her hand on his arm and grabbing his coat. “Come, my sweet...sweetheart, we must get your wrap. And I know you wish to say good-night to Max.” He winked at her father, as if they were the best of friends. “But keep it short. My sisters will be fit to be tied if we are late.”
Her father seemed dumbstruck and Grace took advantage of it. She ran from the room, gathered Lydia, Aunt Aggie and their wraps, and they all climbed into Brandon's carriage. The ladies raved over the emeralds and greeted Brandon with warmth and joy. Grace kept up much of the conversation, but knew her father would not be quiet for long.
“Great guns, Grace, what has happened to you since coming to London? I've never heard you prattle on so. I feared I would have to spend the ball updating you on each and every yearling on the estate. I never knew you to care so much about gowns and gloves.” He sounded disappointed, and Grace was a little embarrassed. He was right.
“Do not worry, sir,” Brandon drawled in defense of her. “She has not changed at all. She is a bit nervous tonight, which is also unlike her, but we must let our betrothal announcement account for it. She rakes me down regularly for not sharing more information on how my crops are rotated.”
She would have been able to see the mischief in his eyes if not for the darkened carriage.
“And you will be happy to know that very recently, the pistol in her reticule came in quite handy.”
“Ha!” her father exclaimed. “Told you, girl, did I not? Can't wait to hear the story!”
She would have been angry that Brandon had thrown her to the lions, but it caused such a stir between the ladies that with the ensuing questions, they reached the ball without further incident.
She hoped they would be able to handle the debacle that would inevitably come.
Chapter Thirteen
T
he night seemed interminable to Grace, and they were only halfway through dinner before the ball. As she pushed a lobster patty around her plate, all she could think of was how even a quarter of the price of the excessive food here could have bought a month's worth of healthy, nourishing supplies for all the Janes at the orphanage on Baxter Street. Brandon gently nudged her knee with his, an action that would have shocked her only two months ago. But she recognized it as a signal to let her know he was thinking the same. “Soon, my sweet life,” he said quietly. She was so preoccupied that it never occurred to her to wonder that they could be so in tune to each other's thoughts.
Brandon's sisters were delighted to welcome Lord Pennington, and Lydia was delighted that the privilege of the first dance would go to her father. Grace thought that her sister's happiness was complete with their father there, and she no longer begrudged it to her. Perhaps his presence would be the catalyst to end all the subterfuge. Perhaps it was God's plan all along.
But she forgot all that when Brandon claimed her for the first dance. The minute the musicians began a waltz, Grace knew it was of Brandon's doing; however, she did not care. Permission to dance the waltz had come weeks before, yet during the entire Season, she had never once danced a waltz with him. Sometimes she'd bit her lip in vexation as someone else asked, seconds before him, and other times she'd thought he purposely avoided it. But when he took her into his arms this night, all other thoughts flew from her head. She relaxed in his embrace and all the nervousness surrounding the ball drifted away in the music.
“Grace?”
“Yes, Brandon.”
“We are back to Brandon. I thank you.”
They circled lazily, sometimes avoiding another couple by mere inches, but she followed where he led, and smiled as she realized that a rake
must
be an exceptional dancer. He led her so easily that her body responded naturally, moving in whichever direction he chose. And he smelled
so
good.
“I believe I could get used to holding you in my arms.” He pulled her toward him just a fraction. “You dance as gracefully as you do everything in your life. Shall we dance toward those open doors and finish the song out on a moonlit balcony?”
She smiled up at him in pure pleasure, and could see admiration in his eyes. “I think not.” How she wished she could say yes. “As we are being watched by a thousand eyes, it would only cause a dust up, and I am quite happy where I am.”
“Then we shall remain here.”
He pulled her close enough to clasp one of her hands against his chest. She could have laid her head against his shoulder and remained there all night. She knew at last why chaperones and dowagers thought the waltz was scandalous. But as his betrothed, she was allowed this small intimacy.
“Shall I dance every dance with you tonight, my sweet life? I believe I have found the way to keep you from scolding me at every turn.”
She dropped her eyes and spoke to his cravat, choosing to tease him, though the answer was very important to her. “You have stopped calling me âlove' tonight. Have I done something wrong, to be so lowered in your esteem?”
“My sweet life, have you heard me call others âlove' from time to time?”
“Of course! I assumed it was a high honor to be called so by a rake.”
“It is, it is. But have you ever heard me call someone else âmy sweet life'?”
“No, I have not.” She slowly raised her eyes and smiled up at him, and was taken aback at the intensity in his gaze. She lowered them again. “Brandon, I am happy to have this time with you.” She did not tell him it was more than she could ever have hoped for in the way of a loving memory. “But very soon the tenor of the evening will change, the announcements will be made and we will still be in the same entanglement we have been in all along. I need not tell you that I fear the ramifications of this evening.”
“Then do not,” he said, sounding a little angry.
She looked at him again with a question in her eyes.
“If we may not have this dance without talking of ending the engagement, or the appearance of your father, or deluding my sisters, or whatever seems to prey upon your mind at all times, then just dance,” he muttered.
“I am sorry, Brandon.”
“I know you are. As am I.”
That could have meant a thousand things, but she knew it was frustration. She ruined many things because of her practical nature. And it was ruining this memory. So, ever so lightly, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and heard the buzz go up around the room. It might be the only benefit of dancing with a rake, and she would take it. But when she felt his cheek rest against the top of her head, she closed her eyes and she did as he askedâshe just danced.
* * *
He returned her to where her father and Lydia awaited them. Brandon and Grace did not speak to each other, but he bowed and said he would get the ladies each a glass of lemonade.
Lydia kissed her father's cheek, telling him how much she would miss him once she and Lord Hendricks were married. She blushed and looked up at her future husband as she said it.
“No need to be downcast, daughter. With the roads so improved, traveling is more easily accomplished, and we will all be able to visit and spend holidays together.” He pinched her cheek. “The Abbey, however, will not be the same without the two of you. I have put too much of my responsibility for the estate on Grace. I will jump back into the thick of it and will only be a little sad about her leaving me for this marquess.” He smiled at her, as well, as he added, “Though I'll be hanged if I can remember where I met him before.”
Grace blushed at both statements. “Father, do you think I can give up the Abbey? I will still spend time there. You know I love it too much to completely remove myself.”
“I do not think that husband of yours will fancy that.”
“He knows my feelings, Father.”
“Well, my beautiful girls, I see your next partners drawing near, and I believe I will seek out acquaintances in the card room until the big announcement.” He kissed their cheeks before he left them.
Grace felt a tear leave her eye and could not pinpoint for which sadness it fell.
Lydia put an arm around her waist for the few seconds they had left. “Do not worry, Grace. I know you feel you must, but why not let God take your cares for this evening? I love you.”
* * *
Too quickly, the time came to make known the purpose for the ball. Brandon's sisters had the musicians pause, and introduced their special guests, Mrs. Agatha Burstow and Lord Pennington. Then they stepped aside to allow them to take center stage.
Grace began to shiver. Her moment of relaxation in Brandon's arm was gone and all her reservations returned, making her want to jump out of her skin. The whispers of the excited crowd heightened as her father escorted her aunt to the front of the room, but they quieted when he cleared his throat.
Aunt Aggie drew Lydia forward. “As you all know, this ball is for the coming out of my lovely niece, Lady Lydia Endicott.” The crowd applauded politely and expected the party to continue.
“However,” her father said in a louder voice, “our Lydia has made an attachment. Her aunt and I would like to announce the engagement of Lady Lydia to Dennis Henderson, Lord Hendricks!”
Dennis joined Lydia, and the applause this time was louder and the congratulations true and well meant. Grace knew a moment's peace in her heart at her sister's happiness.
That disappeared in an instant.
“Before you get back to the festivities,” her father continued, “we would like your indulgence for a few moments more.” He came to Grace's side of the room, took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, leading her forward as he signaled to Brandon to join them. “Since this is the first time I have been with you all, I would also like to congratulate Brandon, Lord Weston, who had the good sense to offer for my other daughter, Lady Grace.” He paused at the general laughter. “His sisters and Grace's aunt and I are happy to celebrate their betrothal, as well.”
Brandon moved close to Grace, taking her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. She would have loved the gesture had it been in private, but she assumed the only reason he did it was to be sure to keep her by his side, when he knew she did not wish to be there. He lifted their intertwined hands to kiss hers.
It was her own fault. She had allowed herself to give in to her heart when she'd rested her head on Brandon's shoulder during their dance. Her boldness then had given him license for this gesture now.
People began to look at each other, to gauge the approval of this rather intimate display. But when the applause started, slight at first, but thundering around the room very soon after, she realized it was what was expected of a rake, and he aimed to please. She heard them begin to chant, “Speech, speech,” and she prayed Brandon would not appease them.
Her prayer was not answered. He let go of her hand to put an arm lightly around her waist, making her step forward with him. He had a decided twinkle in his eyes. “As many of you know, I never thought to find myself in this position, so you cannot be surprised to learn that I have no speech prepared.”
The guffaws of the gentlemen and the titters of the ladies showed their appreciation for his charm.
He went on in a more serious manner. “All I can say to you is that tonight I am the luckiest man in the kingdom.”
Grace looked up at him, surprised at his words, and when he glanced down at her she knew he saw her fear and nervousness. But she was completely unprepared for him to lean down and kiss her lightly on the lips.
As the crowd gasped in surprise, applause took over, and everyone began to gather around them with congratulations.
It seemed to Grace that she stood there for hours, smiling and saying goodness knew what to a thousand people. Brandon never took his arm from her waist, making her feel even more self-conscious in front of them.
When the musicians finally resumed playing, she and Brandon found themselves alone for a moment. Her sensibilities were at the breaking point. She lashed out quietly, but fiercely. “My lord, I believe the little displays of affection went a bit too far tonight. You shocked half the guests in the ballroom. More importantly, we are supposed to be on the verge of ending our engagement. I think it might have been a little easier for people to digest if they had seen a couple a little more...restrained.”
She felt him tense up, and realized she had said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Again. She wished he could understand how all the playacting, when she was
not
playacting, was affecting her.
His hand left her waist, but grabbed her arm as he began pulling her toward the double doors that led to the veranda. “You are quite right. It is time we had a little talk, my lady.”
* * *
If the guests were not shocked before, they would be now, and he cared not a jot!
When they reached the veranda, she tugged at her arm so he would stop, but he held on fast, dragging her by the hand. He went down the steps, then farther down the path, until he came to a tall tree with leaves that shaded the area in quiet darkness. There he finally let go of her hand, and she stood staring at him, trying to catch her breath. He had taken appalling liberties in his anger and was not surprised when she lashed out at him. “What on earth are you doing? If you wished to speak to me, we could have talked on the veranda.”
“My little displays of affection are bothering you, are they, Grace?” His jaw was clenched and he ground his teeth. “Just what do you think those small displays cost
me,
my lady?” He remained silent for a moment, trying to control his anger. She was an innocent and he...was not.
She did not shrink from him. He feared his question, uttered with such vehemence, might scare her, but she stood her ground. “I can see I have made you angry, my lord, but I am not sure how. I do not understand your question.”
“Of course you do not,
my lady.
The reason you do not understand it is because you
are
a lady,” he said between gritted teeth. “You are a naive, green girl from Essex who apparently has not ever known a real man. A green girl who has neither the nerve nor the backbone to show her true emotions.”
She gaped but said nothing.
He forcibly tried to calm down. He paced back and forth in front of her, running his hands through his hair. When his anger died down somewhat, he turned his back to her to stare down a pathway that overlooked a lake. “How many times would you say we have kissed, Grace?” he finally asked, seriously and quietly. He did not need to see her to know she had never expected such a question. She did not speak for a moment. “I assume that is what you meant when you alluded to our displays of affection, is it not?”
She was a smart woman. She shed no tears at his ranting. “Yes, I suppose the public kissing, hand holding and the proprietary use of your arm around my waist would be the gist of it.” She spoke clearly and softly. “I do not see others doing such things and it makes me feel...awkward, for want of a better word.”
He could feel her frustration that she could not put into words what she wanted to say to him. But her frustration did not begin to match his own, so he said nothing.
“Even in private you tease me that way.” He heard
her
begin to pace.
“My lord, as I said, we are on the brink of ending this. We should appear less affectionate, not more so. I do not understand the purpose of your actions.”
“Grace, I told you, all the way back from the Blue Swan Inn, that if we were to pretend to be in love, people would expect a rake to flout convention. I now see the foolishness of my past. Believe me when I tell you that I am daily reminded...” He shook his head and stopped. He had not meant to tell her that. “I told you from the beginning, did I not?”