Aubrey smiled at that. “I will remember that. I have no desire to say anything unflattering.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”
“Hmm,” he mused, his brows knitting together. “Disparaging a gentleman. Quite possibly a flaw.”
She made a face. “I didn’t disparage a gentleman. I disparaged you.”
“That you did.”
They smiled at each other, and something seemed to shift around Aubrey. It wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t monumental, and he wasn’t even sure what it was, but something moved. Or morphed.
Grew.
He could have smiled at Grace for a good long while without ever getting tired of it.
Shocking thought. He didn’t even like smiling, particularly as a pastime. It took entirely too much effort.
But not with Grace.
Perhaps that was a flaw. She changed his opinion on smiling against his will.
Heartless captor.
He stepped back with a gruff sound and folded his arms, trying to look speculative. “First and foremost, Miss Morledge, tell me how your finances are arranged. I know it’s a distasteful topic for polite society, but in the interest of this assignment, it must be considered adequately.”
Grace clamped her lips together and giggled.
“This is quite serious, madam,” Aubrey insisted with as much stiffness as humanly possible.
“I’m sure it is,” she laughed. Then she sobered, though there were laugh lines ticking at the corners of her full lips. “My dowry is thirty thousand pounds, and I have discretionary pin money of a generous nature, much of which I keep stowed away in an undisclosed location, as my dowry is of no concern to me but is to my husband. Poor man.”
Aubrey snorted a laugh. “Not that poor. Thirty thousand is a right pleasant sum. That should encourage several gentlemen to venture to your door, once I let word of that spread about.”
“Rude, Aubrey!”
Well, this was going better than she’d thought it would.
Surely she could hope in that, right?
Aubrey was making this all so easy, taking care to make her comfortable and keep her smiling, and turned impossible the moment she exhibited the slightest bit of tension. Miraculously, it never failed to bring her out of her anxieties and make her laugh. And then he would turn less impossible and they were able to continue on.
Not that they had made an especially significant amount of progress.
Aubrey had no idea what he was doing, and he made that perfectly clear.
Grace didn’t mind. In fact, she was taking great pleasure in seeing him confused and at times flustered. He never became angry or frustrated, but he couldn’t seem to decide on a course, and his indecision was oddly charming. There was a very specific furrow that appeared between his brows when he was thinking. For some unfathomable reason, she enjoyed seeing that. It suited him, in a way. Enhanced his too-tan complexion that spoke of days in the sun working with his tenants.
Which suited his dark hair, and his perfectly portioned brows, and his impeccable physique, and…
She straightened up in her chair, craning her neck. Yes, Aubrey was an attractive man, and at times remarkably so, but there was absolutely no sense in dwelling on that fact. He was impossible. He was grating. He was…
Smiling. At her. In a way that made her toes curl in her slippers.
Oh, no. Not happening.
“What else?” Grace asked quickly, praying he wouldn’t notice.
With her luck, he would notice it. He tended to notice everything.
Her favorite furrow appeared, and he pulled a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket, reading it over.
“You have a list?” she asked with a laugh.
Aubrey looked over it at her. “Yes, I do. Provided by Elinor and the you-know-whats.” He returned his attention to the list, twisting his lips.
Grace exhaled. “Of course. Let me see it.”
Again, he looked over. “No.”
“Come on,” she scolded, giving him a look. “You’re going to be going through the whole thing anyway, so I am going to find out.”
He shook his head firmly. “I am not having you privy to this information in advance, thus giving you time to prepare for each examination and avoid potential flaw detection. No, Miss Morledge. Give me a minute.”
Shaking her head, she held up her hands in surrender, then bit down on her lip to avoid laughing. Then, she quickly stopped, just in case he would consider that a flaw.
“Ah ha!” Aubrey exclaimed, folding the paper and tucking it back in. “I know what to do.”
“Oh, good,” Grace muttered, raising a brow. “What is it?”
He smirked at her. “Writing composition, Grace. More specifically, I want to see a letter you have written, and an article for the Chronicles you have done.”
She blinked unsteadily. “You want to invade my privacy and that of a recipient of one of my letters?”
“I mean no offense, but you don’t exactly have privacy with me anymore.” He made an apologetic face that she almost believed. “If you don’t have a letter you will allow me to read, then we’ll have you write one.”
Grace stared at him in disbelief. “You’re serious.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. “I am.”
She exhaled roughly, her mind whirling. How in the world could he expect her to show him one of her letters, let alone reveal which articles she had written for the Chronicles?
Then again, Aubrey wasn’t asking. Technically, her father was.
She groaned and forced herself out of her chair. “Wait here.”
He gave her a querying look. “As opposed to coming up to your bedchamber?”
There was no point in addressing that, but she simply had to glare at him. “The one room in this house that you blessedly have no reason to enter, and the only bit of privacy I will be allowed.”
Aubrey pursed his lips. “Why would I have reason to enter your father’s bedchamber? Or your brother’s? Certainly, I wouldn’t need to go into your mother’s…”
Grace restrained a shriek and strode from the room, marching down the corridor and up the stairs to her bedchamber.
“Of all the irritating, aggravating, infuriating people on this earth,” she snarled as she stomped, “it had to be that one.”
A door opened upstairs. “Grace?”
Blast. Her mother.
She quickly transformed her expression into a pleasant one as her mother appeared, coming from her rooms. “Mama. I’m only going to fetch a letter.”
“For what purpose?” she asked, clearly waiting for Grace.
Grace moved past her and reached out to squeeze her hand. “Aubrey is evaluating my writing as part of the scheme. We’re working into the assessment with innocent things to make it easier.”
Her mother accompanied her, her expression too knowing. “I heard you on the stairs, my love. I know how you’re really feeling.”
Of course, she did. Grace let her face relax. “It’s not so bad as all that, I promise. Aubrey simply knows how to provoke me with some exactness. I’m unused to it. Everyone treads around me with such care, and he simply barges on through.”
A soft chuckle beside her brought Grace around, and she was astonished to see her mother smiling a little.
“What,” Grace asked rather pointedly, “could possibly amuse you about that?”
Her mother’s smile spread as she looked back at her. “This is the liveliest I’ve seen you in years, even with your friends. Perhaps this will be good for you.”
“The fault-finding?” Grace cried, hurt, defensive, and a thousand other things.
“No, my dear. Aubrey.” Her mother gave her a pointed look, then turned back to her private sitting room.
Grace stared after her, agape. That was… there wasn’t…
No. Utterly and absolutely no.
She hurried into her room and grabbed a letter she had just finish
ed that morning, then raced back down the stairs so as to avoid letting her mind spin on the ridiculousness her mother had just spouted.
Aubrey still sat where she had left him, as nonplussed as any man had ever been. He turned his head in her direction as she entered and smiled with faux pleasantry. “Ah, you found a letter.”
She nodded briskly. “I finished it only this morning. It is for my cousin Felicity, who lives near Brighton.”
“Fortunate girl,” Aubrey grunted, reaching for the letter.
Grace bit back a response to that and sat, very perfectly, back in her chair, fixing a cold look at the man currently perusing her private correspondence.
He was nodding to himself, his face finally free of pretense. “Excellent sentence structure, not overly descriptive. Familiar without being simpering. Warm without being sentimental.”
“Are you going to do that the whole time?” she asked without the bite she’d intended.
Aubrey chewed on his lip as he read. “Possibly…” He looked up at her then. “Why are you warning her about her mother?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to mind his own business, that he might be privy to her life, but not Felicity’s, but she found she didn’t have the heart for it. She scowled. “Because her mother is determined to see her married off and isn’t particular as to whom, so long as he is wealthy enough to bring Felicity status.”
“That isn’t uncommon in Society, you know,” he murmured, his tone all gentleness.
Grace nodded once. “I know. But my aunt would sell Felicity if it would do the job, and that is not an exaggeration. She’s not unfeeling towards her; in fact, she overly praises her, if anything. She is simply obsessed with the idea that Felicity avoid becoming… me.”
Aubrey’s face hardened at once, and he looked down at the letter once more. “And how old is Felicity?” he asked in a strained voice.
“Seventeen,” Grace replied, smiling at him for his response.
The letter seemed to crackle in his hand as his hold tightened briefly. “She’s just a child.”
“Yes, and a very innocent one.” Grace sighed and folded her hands together. “Hence my warning.”
“I’ll write to your cousin and warn her myself, if I must,” Aubrey replied, folding it neatly and rising to give it back to her.
Grace took it, smiling up at him. “Any flaws in it?”
“There’s a distinct lack of obscenities for such a warning,” he commented, “but you have better taste than I.” He returned her smile. “No flaws. Not even a spelling error.”
She nodded her thanks and tucked the letter into the chair beside her. “And as for an article, I have none for you to read at present.” She glanced towards the door, then leaned forward a touch. “We’ve taken to not keeping any copies at the house while Father is in residence,” she whispered.
Aubrey bent closer to her, his eyes dancing. “Then tell me which article you wrote in the most recent issue. I can assure you; it’s still fresh in my mind.”
His whispered encouragement made her grin. “The main article. The one about the risk of naïveté in young women.”
Aubrey’s eyes widened, and he straightened. “Good lord. That was you?”
Grace nodded without hesitation, smirking proudly. “That was me.”
His jaw dropped for a moment, and then he beamed rather brilliantly. “Extraordinary doesn’t begin to describe that article. It was bloody brilliant, Grace!”
She giggled at the compliment. “Thank you. I was particularly proud of that one. It was certainly an improvement over the Fashion Forum I wrote before that. There’s only so much one can say about embroidered stockings.”
Aubrey still stared at her, then he relaxed his stance, leaning back on the table behind him. “Grace, I am impressed beyond words. You’ll pardon my asking, but how did you learn to write like that?”
Her cheeks colored in delight. “Well, I don’t believe I did learn it, truth be told. My earlier articles were not so impressive, nor were they so well-constructed.”
“Drop the modesty,” he begged.
“I’m not being modest,” she told him with real honesty. “The more I write for the Chronicles, the better I get. The better we all get. Izzy is still the best of us, and Charlotte is the most shocking, but we are improving. And this time, I decided to address a topic I felt particularly strongly about.” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s one of the main reasons they started the Chronicles in the first place.”
Aubrey leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands. “They?”
“I was a late addition to the group.” She gnawed the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I don’t know why they approached me, actually. There were several other spinsters in London they could have asked to join the group.”
“They were smart to include you.”
Grace jerked slightly to look at him again. “What?”
He nodded fervently. “I mean it. Georgie is no fool, Grace, and I have no doubt she made a study of the other unmarried women in Society. You are the best of the lot. It was only natural they should choose you.”
Her heart leapt for joy and seemed to be burning within her. “You don’t know the rest of the lot, Aubrey.”
“Don’t have to,” he quipped. “I know you.”
Oh, but the look in his eyes made her feel like a lovesick girl of twelve again, and it was all she could do to keep from smiling an accompanying lovesick smile that would have been entirely too obvious.
Not that she was lovesick. She was simply touched. And embarrassed. And perhaps a bit feverish.
That was all.
Aubrey blinked and the look was gone. He slapped his thighs and rose fluidly, running a hand through his hair and disheveling it in a way that reminded her of the boy she had known in Derbyshire, and her heart lurched.
“Well, I suppose that’s enough for today,” he rambled, his words not quite as crisp as normal. “I will see you tomorrow at the Sterlings’, and I will assess your interaction with various people at that point.”
Grace slowly rose, watching Aubrey curiously. “Very well. Miranda will be there, you know. We could confront her.”
“Yes, yes, excellent thought,” he replied absently. “I’ll bring my suit of armor for whatever she tosses in retaliation.”
Grace laughed at the image that brought, and Aubrey seemed to shudder at it.
“Right,” he said, turning to her and bowing. “Good day, Grace.”
“Good day, Aubrey.”
He left before she finished, and she stared after him, still curious.
What in the world?
Then her mother crossed the corridor, casting another knowing look at Grace. All curiosity and delight evaporated swiftly, and Grace snapped back into discontent, moving quickly towards the music room.
He was not good for her.
He couldn’t be.
Chapter Ten
Confrontation can be a terrible idea.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 10 December 1818
“What is he assessing this evening?”
Grace hid a wince, looking at her mother with a strained expression. “My interaction with others. Conversation, politeness, and no doubt flirtation, as well.” She exhaled roughly and shook her head. “It’s maddening to be on such display.”
Her mother patted her hand gently, then squeezed. “I am so sorry that you are being subjected to this. But perhaps Aubrey lessens the sting?”
“Perhaps,” Grace replied evasively, unwilling to admit anything. She wasn’t at all sure that he did lessen the sting. It was undoubtedly better than another person might have done, she could admit that freely, but there was a sting to being with Aubrey that wouldn’t have belonged with anyone else.
She cared what he thought. Specifically.
What would the discovery of faults do to his estimation of her?
It was a selfish, foolish question, but one she could not ignore. And could not elabo
rate on.
They entered Georgie and Tony’s drawing room, which had been expertly turned into a ballroom this evening, to find most of the guests had already arrived. Dancing had commenced, and Charlotte was already being entertained by four or five men near her, with Michael Sandford hovering at the edges of her circle, as he usually did.
Grace’s mother sighed at seeing him. “Poor Mr. Sandford. I know he’s not as timid as his behavior would have us believe, so why does he not try for Charlotte? He might actually have a chance.”
“He won’t,” Grace assured her. “Michael and Charlotte have a longstanding history of friendship and nothing more. He’s more a protector than a would-be lover, Mama.”
“Such a pity.”
They approached Georgie and Tony then, all smiles, and Grace received fond kisses from each of them. Her mother was warmly embraced by Georgie, though the embrace was awkward, given her current size, and Tony kissed her hand.
Grace turned to smile at her brother behind her, although he wasn’t there, to her surprise. Gathering her anger into a strained smile, she turned back to their hosts, who seemed to already know what she was thinking.
“I don’t know where James has gotten to,” Grace said by way of apology and explanation.
Her mother’s face flushed, and her hands fidgeted. “I am so sorry, Captain Sterling, Georgie. Please…”
“It’s fine, Lady Trenwick,” Tony insisted gently, smiling for effect. “He’s ventured off to the card room, I saw him go. And neither Georgie nor I take any offense towards you by anything he does.”
He could not have said anything more perfect, and Grace beamed at him, as did her mother.
“You are too kind,” her mother gushed in relief.
Tony chuckled. “Trust me, my lady, I am never too good.”
“It’s true,” Georgie confirmed. “He’s only ever good enough.” She rubbed Tony’s arm, and looked at Grace. “Ingram was looking for you. Not sure why.”
Grace made a face. “Wonderful.”
“Something to share, Grace?” Tony asked, his tone laced with mischief and suggestion.
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