A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (64 page)

“
Oh, lud. I don’t know what
I could have been thinking.” Aunt Dorothea bundled the items again
and handed them to Grace with an apology in her eyes. “Dear, you
should go ahead and prepare yourself for this evening. There is no
rest for the weary today. Off with you, now.” Aunt Dorothea shooed
Grace into her bedchamber, carrying all of the purchases which she
would need to dress for the evening.

She dreaded attending the function.
After what had transpired at the Pump Room that morning, she wanted
to be anywhere but at an event full of gossips. She would receive
looks of pity, of disgust, of shame. After the day she’d just
experienced, she simply didn’t think she could handle
it.

But she couldn’t disappoint her aunt.
She dressed herself with Tess’s help, making certain everything was
as it should be. The maid styled her hair, winding the new silver
ribbons through plaits and curls and giving her a more complicated
coiffure than Grace was accustomed to wearing.

She almost couldn’t
recognize herself in the cheval mirror. The silver gown caused her
eyes to sparkle in the candlelight, looking even more silvery than
they typically did. Perhaps the ladies at Madam Yeats’s shop had
been right to insist on the silver gown after all. She
certainly
felt
more beautiful than she could ever remember feeling. It was
quite irregular, to think of herself as beautiful or
pretty.

Just as quickly, she pushed the
thoughts aside. She had no business thinking such thoughts. She was
a ruined woman. No man should think those things about her, so why
should she think them of herself?

The one thing which might make this
evening bearable was the possibility she wouldn’t see Lord
Alexander. If she had any luck at all, he’d either spend the
evening with Lord Rotheby or seek some other entertainment. Grace
hoped he wouldn’t be there. She was ill prepared to face the
scandal before society, but the man who had led her to such rash
deportment as well. It would be more than she could
bear.

She took one last glance at herself in
the mirror before she rejoined her aunt and uncle in the parlor.
Aunt Dorothea was also dressed for an evening out, but Uncle
Laurence had not changed his attire from earlier in the day.
“Uncle, won’t you join us at the Assembly Room tonight?” Oh please,
let him come too. If Uncle Laurence was there, Grace could feel
more at her ease. He could rein in Aunt Dorothea.

“
I’m sorry, Gracie. I’ve
promised to keep company with Lord Rotheby this evening. It seems
Lord Alexander has other plans, and he didn’t wish to leave the
earl alone.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. What
other plans did Lord Alexander have for that evening? Was that the
reason for his earlier visit with her uncle—simply to request his
assistance with Lord Rotheby? Please let it be something as simple
and entirely unremarkable as that.

She hoped beyond hope his
plans did
not
include visiting the Assembly Room.

But she also desperately hoped they
did.

Chapter
Thirteen

As Alex walked into the Assembly Room
that evening, he made an effort to be seen. Quite unusual behavior
for him, it was true. But tonight he would make an
exception.

After the morning’s
incident, he must make a very public show of not only being seen,
but also being seen
with
her
. He wanted everyone present to
understand there was a connection between them. Of course, creating
such a connection became his primary task for the
evening.

Sir Laurence assured Alex that he and
Lady Kensington were in full support of his efforts. He also
corroborated that, as suspected, Lady Grace had yet to achieve her
majority at only nineteen years of age, and therefore was at the
mercy of her father. He’d asked Alex to not bother with seeking the
approval of her father, as the man had taken a very standoffish
approach to raising his daughter. It would be best, Sir Laurence
said, to take her to Gretna Greene and be done with it, and then
let Lord Chatham know after the fact.

But Alex would not hear of it. If he
was going to marry, he would do it the right way. Tomorrow, he was
heading for London to ask the man for the right to marry his
daughter. It was the only decent thing to do. She deserved far more
than just decency.

So tonight, for once, he would play
the part of the dandy, if only in terms of his attire—but he did it
for her. Everything must be perfect. Nothing less would do. For a
brief moment, he wished he had a quizzing glass with him, but
quashed the thought as soon as it came. That would be a touch too
much.

He’d dressed meticulously for the
evening. His buff breeches and waistcoat were spotless, and set off
nicely against the black of his overcoat. Thomas had shined his
Hessian boots twice so they would gleam in the candlelight. His
beaver hat sat atop his head at a precise angle, not perfectly
straight, but also not fully askance.

Alex arrived fashionably late, to be
certain Lady Kensington would have already arrived with his target
in tow. The ballroom was filled with a large crowd. Dancing had yet
to begin, but the orchestra was warming their instruments on the
dais as fashionable people milled about. As he entered the hall, he
bowed low to the Master of Ceremonies. Alex passed the man his card
and waited for the formal announcement. He wanted as many people
present as possible to take notice.

“
Lord Alexander Hardwicke!”
the Master of Ceremonies boomed out over the crush of revelers. An
instant hush encompassed the hall, followed by a growing series of
murmurs. His plan, it seemed, was already at work. No doubt they
were talking about him.

“
Thank you, sir. You are
most kind.” Alex pretended indifference to the hushed whispers, the
covert stares, and the blatant open-mouthed gawks, taking it all
in, but showing no sign of caring. Surely this meant word of his
exchange with Lady Grace had spread to everyone present, and would
soon fall on the ears of those unaware. “Might you inform me of the
whereabouts of Lady Grace Abernathy?”

The Master of Ceremonies stared at
him, open mouthed. He must also be aware. “My lord, I cannot be
certain, but I believe she and her aunt are presently in the
ballroom.” He held a pained expression on his face, a clear
indication that he had told the truth, although he found it
distasteful.

Had Alex attained a rakehell’s
reputation since the morning? Excellent. Even better than he could
have asked. He crossed through the octagon room and into the
ballroom, gliding through the crowd and nodding to acquaintances
along the way. Once in the ballroom, he scanned the room for Lady
Grace. He needed to speak with her before someone else drew him
into conversation.

Lady Kensington found him before he
found her. “Lord Alexander! I hoped to see you here this evening.”
She pushed through the crowd, tugging a struggling Lady Grace along
behind her—more dazzling and bewitching than he had ever seen her
before. She looked like an angel, all aglow beneath the warm
candlelight. They arrived at his side in record time; crowds posed
no deterrence to Lady Kensington. “You are such a dear man. My
Laurence had a pleasant visit with you this afternoon, he tells me,
and hopes you will bring yourself around to us far more often. I
must agree with him, as well.” She looked as though she might talk
to him for hours if he didn’t stop her.

If looks could kill, Lady Grace’s aunt
wouldn’t be alive very long. Even as daggers glared through the
younger woman’s eyes, he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Why
thank you, Lady Kensington. And good evening to you, Lady
Grace.”

She wore a high-waisted silver gown
that shimmered in the candlelight to match her eyes. Ribbons
twirled through hair dressed in a much more fashionable manner than
her traditional knot. Curls spilled free and ran riot at the back
of her head. A few tendrils wisped along her temples and at the
nape of her neck, begging him to be touched. He anchored his arms
to his side to keep from doing so.

She looked ravishing.

The orchestra had finished their
preparations, and dancing was set to begin. “I do hope I’m not too
late to request your hand for a dance.”

She looked horrified at the prospect
of dancing with him, with her jaw dropping almost to the floor. He
thought she would deny him, but Lady Kensington interrupted before
she could speak. “Splendid! I’m afraid she’s already granted the
first two dances to other gentlemen, sir. But the third dance,
which,” she said with a wink, “I understand to be a waltz, is free.
Gracie, please pencil him in on your card.”

“
Aunt, I haven’t been
approved to waltz. I dare not defy convention in such a
manner.”

Blast. She may have found her excuse
to avoid him, at least for that particular set.

“
Oh bosh, Gracie. No one in
Bath cares what Almack’s dictates. You know how to waltz, don’t
you? Nothing else is required here, my dear. You’ll waltz with Lord
Alexander this evening.” Lady Kensington positively beamed over her
success.

A tall, lanky youth with pimply skin
joined them at that moment. He looked to be hardly out of leading
strings. Good. This one should pose no threat.

“
Oh, Lord Warringly. You
are precisely on time for your set.” Lady Kensington’s nose
wrinkled, and Alex debated whether it was due to pleasure or
distaste for the young viscount.

“
Lady Grace? I do believe
this is my dance.” Warringly escorted her away before she could go
against her aunt and deny Alex his waltz. She glanced back over her
shoulder at him with a look of chagrin as she walked across the
ballroom.

“
You sly fox. You look
positively smashing tonight, my lord,” Lady Kensington said, her
voice filled with amusement. “During your waltz, I’ll look the
other way should you decide to take her for a walk in the gardens
or something of that nature. I’ll not interfere.”

His nerves built as he anticipated
what was to come. “Thank you, ma’am. However, I don’t believe it
would be in your niece’s best interests to be caught sneaking off
alone with me at this point—not until after an announcement is made
and her father has approved the match.” He couldn’t bear to cause
her more damage than he already had. “I don’t believe we’ll stray
out of sight.”

Tonight everyone would see. That was
just how it must be.

But the pleasing thought of taking
Lady Grace somewhere alone nagged at him and burned his
mind.

~ * ~

Grace danced a country dance with
Viscount Warringly and thought all the while about Lord Alexander.
The young viscount attempted to make polite conversation with her
when they were close enough to converse, but had little more to
discuss than general comments on the weather. Grace didn’t try
overmuch to participate. The day had exhausted her, and she wanted
nothing more than her bed.

Even worse than her exhaustion, she
was mortified to have her aunt drag her into the public eye so soon
after the morning’s scandal. If her aunt and uncle insisted she
stay with them and not seek employment, wouldn’t it be better to
keep her from society and gossipmongers? For once in her life,
Grace thought perhaps her father was right. His enforced isolation
might be useful for some things in life, at least.

She wondered how long it
would be before word of the incident at the Pump Room reached him.
If he thought her a whore before, what would he possibly think
after hearing how she had
allowed
Lord Alexander Hardwicke to kiss her? He would be
furious.

She needed to forget any daydreams of
an eligible match, and leave to seek employment, irrespective of
the Kensingtons’ adamant insistence that she stay. But Grace had no
desire to hurt them. She’d hate to lose the relationship she had
recently forged with them. But as much as the loss would hurt, she
knew there would be more to gain. She could escape Father’s wrath,
protect the Kensingtons from him, and keep her child, working as a
nurse or a governess somewhere.

But then there was Lord Alexander. Why
could the man not understand it would be easier for them both if he
left her alone? After this morning, Grace had no doubt he was
forming an emotional attachment to her, despite her best efforts to
allay him. And try as she might to ignore him, she thought of him
more often every day. He consumed her.

It had to stop. She was unsuitable for
him. Grace set her mind to dissuade him tonight.

The dance ended, and Viscount
Warringly led her to Aunt Dorothea, who held out a glass of
lemonade for her.

“
Thank you, my lady. It was
a pleasure.” The viscount inclined his pock-marked head toward her
and then left.

“
He is quite a young lad,
isn’t he?” Aunt Dorothea wrinkled her nose toward him again as he
walked away. “I know it’s not his fault, but a few more years will
do that boy a great deal of good. Oh dear, I hope you didn’t fancy
him, Gracie. I don’t think he is the one for you.”

“
Aunt, you and I both
realize it doesn’t matter who I might or might not fancy. Please
stop trying to match me with some eligible gentleman, as I’m
entirely ineligible.” She sent her aunt a pleading look across the
glass of lemonade as she sipped. “A match for me, right now, is
just not possible. You have to accept the truth.”