A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (51 page)

A visit for tea with an earl? Oh no.
Father might find out, if word traveled to Town. Surely, as a peer,
Lord Rotheby must know her father. She had to think
quickly.

“
I’m terribly sorry, Aunt,
but I don’t think Father would approve of my visiting with anyone
in town while I’m here.” She searched her mind for a good reason he
might have for such a disapproval. Drat! “He…er, well, he wishes to
keep me away from all society until I can be properly
introduced.”

Please let them not have heard she had
a come-out last Season, however paltry the affair turned out to be,
with only attending a single ball before the Duke of Walsingham and
her father came to their agreement.

Aunt Dorothea looked horrified. “Oh,
lud! Your father can—”

“
Dorothea,” Uncle Laurence
cut in. “Watch yourself. Chatham is still Grace’s father, despite
how you and I may feel about the man.” Uncle Laurence turned to
Grace and held her gaze. “Grace, your father obviously sent you to
stay with us, and therefore he chose to trust your aunt and me with
your care. As such, some decisions we make for your well-being may
not line up precisely with what his decisions might have been under
the same circumstances. Are you all right with that?” He paused and
allowed her time to react.

She merely nodded in assent. If word
somehow did travel to London, hopefully she would have enough time
to escape again. Father would not force her to marry
Barrow.

But, oh, how she wished her
aunt had said whatever she had planned to say before Uncle Laurence
had interrupted her. Surely it would have been wicked. Grace
desperately wanted to be wicked, just for a moment. But if
she
could not be, perhaps
she could just listen in while her aunt was.

“
Excellent. Your aunt and I
do
not
agree that
hiding you from society is in your best interest. We feel it would
be propitious for you to interact with other people of high
caliber. Still, we won’t force you to come if you don’t find the
idea pleasing. Is that agreeable to you? Would you like to join
us?”

Again, Grace nodded. How could she
refuse, when they were allowing her a place to stay? And on top of
it all, the Kensingtons had required no explanation as to why she’d
come, at least as of yet. Of course, the likelihood Father would
find out was rather slim, but she still sat in awe of her
decision.

Even more than awe, she felt something
more—was it courage? She marveled at her own boldness. For the
first time, Grace had taken just the tiniest bit of control over
her own life.

She felt wonderful.

Chapter Five

Alex felt quite the grouch the
following day. He wracked his brain to determine the cause of his
foul mood, and found only one possible cause—a significant scarcity
of sleep, due to incessant dreams.

They were not
un
pleasant dreams,
exactly. They were filled with a pair of soft blue eyes.

The situations in the dreams had
changed, but the eyes remained the same. They stared at him,
piercing him through, eating at his psyche. He couldn’t ignore
them, even if he tried—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to try,
either. He was far too fascinated, even enamored, by
them.

In some of the dreams, they implored
him for help. What help did she need? He didn’t know, but her eyes
were almost begging him. Even still, these eyes told him more than
she ever would—of that, he was oddly certain.

If only he knew what help
she needed. Had she been left destitute? Did her husband die? Maybe
she was running from someone—or possibly
to
someone.

Then again, it had only been a dream.
Even if he knew what help she needed, how on earth would he ever
find her? He didn’t know her name or her destination. He knew
nothing about her.

Nothing, that is, except the eyes that
haunted his dreams in a silent plea for something
unknown.

~ * ~

“
It’s quite a nice day out,
ladies. Shall we take the chaise to Roundstone Park? I think it
would be pleasant to enjoy some air on the trip.” Uncle Laurence
was bursting at the seams in his eagerness to be on the
way.

Grace, however, felt uneasy. She
chided herself for her nerves. Obviously the Kensingtons were good
friends with the earl, and therefore they trusted him and expected
she would, as well. But the nerves remained.

Of course, she was still so early in
her pregnancy it was impossible for anyone to tell. She ought not
to fret about the possibility of discovery. If only she had already
informed her aunt and uncle of her situation—but they had not given
her an opportunity. Or perhaps it was that she had not taken the
opportunity when it had been presented. Either way, she wished they
knew. Maybe then, they would allow her to stay behind.

But the pregnancy was certainly the
least of her worries, the most of which being word somehow
traveling to Town about her location. If Father knew where to find
her…

Aunt Dorothea brightened. “Oh yes,
Laurence, let us enjoy the sunshine. We always have so much rain,
we might as well take advantage of the sun while we can. Grace, do
be sure to wear your poke bonnet so you can protect your
complexion. It would just not do for you to be covered in freckles.
You have such a lovely complexion.” She fluttered about the drawing
room to put away her embroidery and collect her own
bonnet.

In the brief day that Grace had been
with her aunt and uncle, she was continually amazed at her aunt—the
woman was always in motion, always talking. She never seemed to
take a breath. Yet the incessant action wasn’t bothersome—far from
it. While she could have easily become flustered from all of the
commotion, it calmed her instead.

Traveling by chaise, Grace saw the
surrounding area for the first time. It was a much different view
than she had while stuck behind the dusty windows of the coach.
Wildflowers littered the fields: violets, hyacinths, foxgloves, and
daffodils dotted the road and created a landscape of blues, pinks,
purples, and yellows that Grace’s fingers itched to
paint.

The trip to Roundstone Park was brief.
“The earl,” Uncle Laurence informed Grace, “is our closest neighbor
at the cottage. We have become quite good friends in recent years.
I daresay we visit him or he visits us at least every week, if not
rather more frequently.”

Barnes drove the chaise over a bridge
that brooked a creek and took them to the front drive. The manor
house stood proudly at the end of a lane of trees, which created an
archway of branches overhead. Sunshine twinkled through the leaves
which danced like dervishes as they moved.

A grand rose garden behind the house
caught Grace’s eye and enchanted her with the variety of
colors—even more colors than lined the roadway. She pulled her gaze
back to Roundstone and was awed by its size. While London boasted
any number of great residences, she had not expected to find one to
compare with them so far from Town.

Grace feared her ignorance due to
isolation would soon rear its head and reveal itself to the entire
world. What great blunder would she make first? Then her gaucherie
would pronounce itself to all and sundry, and she would have to
hang her head in shame.

The home she lived in with her father
since Mother passed away was anything but grand. Father had also
sold all of his other estates which were not entailed to his heir,
in order to further fund his habits. Grace was very much used to
modest living and had rarely ventured outside her home (due, as
usual, to Father’s edict, in addition to her own fears of being
discovered for the uncultured, ungainly, uncivilized chit she so
obviously was).

The splendor before her at Roundstone
Park caught her unawares, with the ivy climbing the edifice of the
house and huge picture windows looking out. They seemed almost to
soak in the warmth of the sun. And oh, how many rooms there must
be! Even with its drab grey stone exterior, it seemed so much
cheerier, so much brighter, than Chatham House had always
seemed.

As they drew closer still, even more
flowers came into view in the various parks, with neat, cobbled
walkways spread about. Benches, fountains, and marble statues
dotted the way, surrounded by bursts of color in every hue of the
spectrum. Grace tried to memorize every detail, every line, every
shape and texture and sound so she could someday recreate it with
her oils.

She could become quite
settled with this new life, if she allowed herself. If
fate
allowed
her.

As they came to a stop before
Roundstone, a footman came from the house to assist the ladies
down. Uncle Laurence led them inside.

“
Sir Laurence and Lady
Kensington. Ma’am.” The stodgy butler inclined his head in their
direction. “Lord Rotheby is expecting your arrival, though he did
not mention a third guest. How shall I announce your
arrival?”

“
Inform the earl that the
Kensingtons have arrived, complete with their niece, Lady Grace
Abernathy.”

The butler indicated the guests should
follow as he led them to a downstairs drawing room. Grace tried not
to gawk at the opulent furnishings. Brocades and silk satins
upholstered every chair and sofa in periwinkle and puce, and wooden
tables and bookshelves gleamed with rich oak finishes—so shiny they
looked to be covered in glass.

The butler cleared his throat. “My
lords, Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington and Lady Grace Abernathy.”
He waited until signaled by the old earl, then continued. “Shall I
bring in the tea now, my lord?”

Again, the elderly man nodded in
assent. He was bundled beneath multiple blankets, though Grace
thought the room to be plenty warm. Another, younger man stood near
the windows—a tall man with auburn hair. Oh, no. What if he were
the same man from the inn?

But she oughtn’t to worry. Even if he
were that man, he surely wouldn’t recognize her. And if he did,
what of it? He knew nothing. She tried to relax herself and slow
her pulse. Nothing opportune could come of becoming a bundle of
nerves.

“
Come in, come in.” Lord
Rotheby waved them inside the room and rose to unsteady feet.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He motioned to a sofa and an
armchair, and the ladies drew near to him.

“
Gil, I hope it is okay
that we brought another guest with us,” Uncle Laurence said. “Lady
Grace is our niece. She will be with us for an extended stay and
just arrived yesterday, but I was sure you would not mind if we
brought her along.”

The earl’s smile seemed adequate
confirmation. It reached his eyes, at least, even if it didn’t
quite stretch his lips as it might have once done.

“
Lady Grace, may I welcome
you to Roundstone Park?” Lord Rotheby asked before being seized by
a round of coughing. He settled himself as soon as possible. “I am
glad you will be joining us today. My good friend, Lord Alexander
Hardwicke, has joined me for a likewise extended stay. I’m sure
he’ll be glad to have a younger person to converse with this
afternoon.”

Lord Alexander turned from the window
and gave a polite smile to them all. She froze when his gaze landed
on her for a moment. He was the man from the inn. She flushed at
the open stare he gave her. Her cheeks heated, at which point his
stare became even more intense. His gaze changed in a moment from
an inquisitive glance to a thorough inspection of her.

Grace timidly returned his inspection.
Lord Alexander was quite handsome. His hair bordered on being too
long for the current style, and his eyes shone an intense
green—darker than the forest, almost like midnight, with golden
flecks bouncing about the edges, giving them a hint of the
lightness she sensed the previous day. He was fair of skin and had
a long, straight nose, narrow as was the rest of him.

His cravat was ever-so-slightly loose
at his neck, as though he had tugged at it in impatience, though
the rest of his attire was utter aristocratic perfection—the long,
black coat over an ornate waistcoat, all snug against his strong
chest, and buff knee breeches enhancing rather large thighs, tucked
into immaculate, well-shined Hessian boots.

Grace couldn’t help but be impressed
with the sheer beauty of him. Drat, she had no business thinking in
such a manner. She tried to banish all such thoughts from her mind.
After all, she must remember she would soon bear a bastard child.
No man of Lord Alexander Hardwicke’s standing would want anything
to do with her.

Not only that, but she was not yet of
age. She could not marry without Father’s consent. Obtaining his
consent would be next to impossible, as well as dangerous, now that
she’d run from him. If he learned where she was—oh, she dreaded to
think what he was capable of.

How she wished things were
different!

Grace couldn’t tolerate the idea of
raising her child alone. Would it not be better for the child to
have two parents, and to not go through life with the label of
bastard? Of course it would. But how could she provide her child
with a father? No man would have her now. Well, none she would
have.