The School for Heiresses

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Seven

  After a month in London, Grace was no closer to gaining an offer than she had been last Season.

  Mrs. Wells fretted endlessly about it, but Grace was much more tranquil. She thought it was perhaps because her heart was not fully engaged in the process of finding a match. After all, she’d thought of little else but Mr. Adlaine since that extraordinary and illicit farewell in her family’s drawing room. She thought of it every day—dreamed of it, too—and always woke wanting more. She could still feel his hands on her, could still taste his mouth…and every other man seemed to pale in comparison.

  Unfortunately, she had to put her feelings firmly behind her, for Mr. Adlaine could not possibly be part of her future.

  And she wastrying to forget him. In the last fort-night, she had attended two supper parties, one assembly, and a soirée. At every event she had done her best to be charming and bright. And she thought she had succeeded, too, until she had occasion to attend Mrs. Harris’s tea just two days past.

  Mrs. Harris had reminded them all that Christmas would be upon them shortly, and it was very easy to be caught up in the spirit of the season, but that they must have a care that they not forget themselves. At the conclusion of tea, she had handed each of the graduates a sealed letter to read when they arrived home.

  Mrs. Harris had written Grace a lesson of sorts, to be applied during the Christmas season with an eye toward improving her social skills, which, she said, “would require careful consideration” in the new year.

  Specifically, during tea, Mrs. Harris had reminded Grace that she had, at times, been a little too trusting of other people’s intentions. Of course Grace knew to what she referred—the entireton knew of the mistake she’d made with Lord Billingsley, for heaven’s sake.

  That being said, Mrs. Harris’s lesson for her, in part, read:

  While your trusting nature is an asset, Grace, you must also remember that if you trust others too quickly you might be perceived as naïve, and, therefore, pliable. I caution you about giving gifts to a gentleman or receiving gifts from gentlemen during the Christmas season unless you are quite certain of their intentions. A true gentleman will not offer a gift unless he means to declare his esteem, and therefore, he deserves your serious consideration. A young lady who offers a gentleman a gift is likewise declaring her esteem, and must be certain of the gentleman’s feelings. In either instance, I hope you will take a moment to reflect on your intentions, as well as the gentleman’s, and not allow yourself to be persuaded by false flattery.

  Grace snorted as she read the letter.She would never make that wretched mistake again, and as far as any gentleman givingher a gift, well…the only gift she had received was the little lamb from Mr. Adlaine, and while she was very attached to the little thing, she could hardly count it as a declaration of his esteem. Besides, Mr. Adlaine was as unattainable to her as she was to him.

  Fortunately, her friend Ava, the Marchioness of Middleton, had taken it upon herself to find Grace a suitable match, as Grace had no heart for it. Ava was very determined, and arrived one afternoon to find Grace moping about.

  “That’s a fine face to be wearing when you are to be my guest at Lady Purnam’s assembly,” she said, having flounced in and arranged herself on a settee.

  “Lady Purnam’s assembly?” Grace echoed, having heard nothing of it.

  “Saturday evening. The old bat isdesperate to see her niece married and hopes to get a jump on next Season’s competition. I told her she was quite out of her mind, for most of the very good bachelors are in the country just now enjoying their guns and dogs. I would be there, too, were it not for my darling little Jonathan,” she said, referring to her fourteen-month-old son.

  Grace heard only the bit about all the very good bachelors being out of town. She could not imagine the ugliness of her father’s disposition if she went home with no prospects once more. Perhaps she wouldn’t go home at all. Perhaps she would remain in London until she was old and wrinkled and—

  “Grace!” Ava cried, thwacking her on the knee with her hand. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?” At Grace’s blank look, Ava rolled her eyes and scooted closer. “Isaid, dearest, that Sir William of Gosford is in town and will attend Lady Purnam’s assembly.”

  Grace supposed she had heard that in the distant background, and nodded.

  “You still do not take my meaning!” Ava complained. “Have you any idea who is Sir William?” When Grace shook her head no, Ava cried, “Oh, you’requite hopeless! He is frightfully handsome and a very brave man—he fought at Waterloo, you know, and distinguished himself there very well indeed. He’s been abroad this last year, but he has returned, and he isquite unmarried in spite of having five thousand pounds a year. I dare say there is not another bachelor of his consequence, and moreover, he is to be made Baron of Gosford this spring by order of the king.”

  “Baron?” Grace asked, perking up. That would meet one of her father’s requirements, and certainly, five thousand pounds a year would meet the other. “He won’t care for my family’s occupation,” she said solemnly.

  “Nonsense,” Ava said. “That’s ridiculous. Mary Franklin’s father was a tea merchant andshe married an earl!”

  “Tea is better than sheep.”

  “That’s silly!” Ava cried. “A trade is a trade. Now Grace, you just haven’t been introduced to the right nobleman as yet. Sir William is a perfect match.”

  “Frightfullyhandsome, did you say?” Grace asked, to which Ava beamed with conspiratorial pleasure.

  Eight

  Lady Purnam’s assembly was a glittering display of wealth, and her poor niece, fresh from Devonshire, stood about all evening with her eyes as wide as moons. Apparently, the girl had never been to London or a high-society assembly.

  One might think Grace hadn’t either, judging by the way Ava and Lady Purnam—the self-proclaimed matron of society—eyed her so critically in a small room off the foyer before allowing her to enter the ballroom. She was wearing the latest fashion from Paris—a green and white striped silk, embroidered with tiny rosebuds along the hem and sleeves that matched the embroidery on her shoes.

  “It is a lovely gown,” Lady Purnam said, frowning, “but far too much jewelry. Rather reminds one of the crown jewels. Here,” she said, sticking out her hand. “The bracelet. And the earrings.”

  “My jewelry?” Grace echoed in dismay.

  “It’s really overdone,” Lady Purnam said, and it was clear she would brook no argument. Grace reluctantly removed the offending pieces and watched as Lady Purnam slipped the items into Grace’s reticule, then stood back and studied her again.

  “Well?” asked Ava.

  “Yes,” Lady Purnam said with a nod. “I think we’ve done it. Now dear,” she said sternly to Grace, “you must remember that young ladies should not mention their father is in trade unless—”

  “Lady Purnam!” Ava cried.

  “What?” Lady Purnam asked, wide-eyed. “She reallyshouldn’t. ”

  “Yes, madam, I am very much aware,” Grace said with a sigh as Ava ushered her out.

  But she had nothing to fear with Sir William. He was, just as Ava said he would be, quite charming. Tall, with dark hair and brown eyes, and an easy smile, he wore his Knight of the Garter badge proudly on his chest. Moreover, he seemed to be taken with Grace. “Had I known such a flower existed among the reeds in London, I should have returned even sooner,” he said after Ava had encouraged the two of them to enjoy a glass of wine with each other.

  “How poetic, sir,” Grace said, beaming.

  They talked at length—Sir William had just returned from Paris and had thoroughly enjoyed his stay. He asked her about her family and she told him what she could without mentioning any sort of trade, and he politely did not inquire.

  When supper was served, Ava managed to have Grace seated with Sir William so that they might continue their conversation. She found Sir William to be exceedingly agreeable and a perfect gentleman. She detecte
d no artifice in him, and thought that of all the men she’d met in London thus far, for the first time, she had a glimmer of hope for something more. Sir William seemed to enjoy her company, too, and Grace was certain that with a proper bit of courting, she could come to esteem him greatly.

  When Ava came to fetch her so that they might leave for the evening—“I cannot bear to be away from my son for very long, Sir William,” she said apologetically—he bowed gallantly over Ava’s hand.

  “I would never stand in the say of a mother’s yearning,” he said, and let go Ava’s hand. “But I shall lose my good companion.” He gave Grace a winsome smile. “I will only bear the loss if she will consent to allowing me to call on her in the very near future.”

  Grace tried to be demure about it, but Ava beamed a smile so broad that it was impossible for Sir William not to see how pleased she was.

  “I should like that very much,” Grace said, with a not-so-subtle kick of Ava’s ankle.

  “I shall meet you in the foyer,” Ava said, with a sly smile for Grace. “I must first bid our hostess good night.”

  “I shall see you to the door, Miss Holcomb, if you will allow it,” he said, offering his arm.

  She happily allowed him. When they reached the foyer, he hesitated; his smile faded a little as he turned to look at her. “Miss Holcomb, if I may be so bold…I cannot recall a time I have enjoyed another’s company so. I really must thank you for a resplendent evening.”

  She could feel herself coloring at his earnestness and smiled. “You are too kind. I, too, have had a pleasant evening.”

  “Splendid,” he said, his winsome smile returning. “I’ll fetch your cloak.”

  “Thank you. It’s blue,” she said, and watched him stride away, the smile still on her face. When he had disappeared into the cloak room, she sighed and turned toward the door—and her heart lurched in her chest.

  Mr. Adlaine was standing there, watching her.How could it be? She was so surprised, so shocked, that she could not find her tongue. He, however, did not seem shocked in the least, and regarded her coolly.

  “Mr. Adlaine!” she exclaimed. “You startled me!”

  “I gathered as much,” he said quietly.

  She had in her mind that he had somehow entered the residence without invitation—how else could hepossibly be at Lady Purnam’s? She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else had seen him. “What are you doing here?” she whispered frantically.

  He stepped forward to take her hand, and Grace stupidly, unthinkingly, stepped back, away from him, and saw the injury skate across his features.

  His hand clenched at his side. “I am enjoying an assembly, of course. Perhaps not as well as you.”

  “What if Lady Purnam should see you?”

  One dark brow rose. “Lady Purnamhas seen me,” he said. “Do you think you are the only one from Leeds capable of gaining an invitation?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, as those words filtered into her frantic brain. He smiled, but it was not a particularly pleasant smile. “Apparently, you thought precisely that.”

  “No, I…I thought—” She didn’t like his hard expression at all and swallowed uncomfortably. “I am just surprised to see you. I had not idea that you—”

  “Lord Dewar!”

  That was Ava calling out behind her, and Grace quickly turned away from Barrett Adlaine, her mind racing ahead to how she might possibly introduce him to Ava.

  “Lord Dewar, I’ve not seen you inages, ” Ava was saying happily to a tall man who stood to the left of Barrett.

  “I’ve been in Scotland,” he responded, just as Sir William returned, holding Grace’s blue cloak.

  “Lady Middleton, may I introduce my good friend, Mr. Barrett Adlaine,” the man said, and gestured to Barrett, who stepped away from Grace.

  “Mr. Adlaine, it is my pleasure.” Ava smiled and extended her hand, which Barrett took.

  “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

  “Lord Dewar, have you met Miss Holcomb?” Ava asked, putting her hand on Grace’s elbow.

  “I have not.”

  Her face flaming, Grace curtsied. “A pleasure, my lord.”

  “Mr. Adlaine—”

  “Happily, we are acquainted,” Barrett said quickly, his eyes on Grace, his expression inscrutable. “We both hail from Leeds.”

  “Oh!” Ava exclaimed, looking at Grace, then at Barrett, then at Grace again. “What a lovely surprise! Now I knowtwo people from Leeds. Then please allow me to introduce Sir William of Gosford, soon to be Lord Gosford.”

  “You will bore them with such detail, Lady Middleton,” Sir William said easily as he greeted the two men.

  “Surelyyou are not leaving, Lady Middleton. Adlaine and I have only just arrived,” Lord Dewar said as Sir William moved to place Grace’s cloak around her shoulders. Barrett’s gaze darkened; Grace dropped her gaze to the floor.

  With a laugh, Ava playfully tapped him on the arm. “You know very well that I am an old married lady now, sir, and one with a beautiful baby boy from whom I cannot be parted for long. Miss Holcomb and I must bid you adieu.”

  “A pity,” Dewer said, and some other platitude that Grace did not hear, for her mind was completely muddled—one moment she’d been smiling at Sir William, thinking that perhaps something might come of their acquaintance, and the next she was trying to understand what Barrett Adlaine was doing here, in a fine salon in Mayfair, so far from his sheep and his mill and his…hisplace. And by invitation, no less!

  She peeked up at him, but Barrett hardly spared her a glance at all—he looked past her.

  “Grace? Shall we?” Ava asked, and Grace dragged her gaze from Barrett to Ava.

  Sir William smiled easily and bowed again. “I shall see you soon, Miss Holcomb.”

  “Thank you.” She shifted her gaze to Lord Dewer. “My lord.” She looked at Barrett again, but he had stepped away, was speaking with another gentleman.

  “Good evening kind sirs!” Ava trilled and stepped in behind Grace, pushing her along.

  Together, they walked through the double-door entry, down the steps behind a footman who held a lantern up to light their path, and into the Middleton carriage. It wasn’t until they were safely inside that Ava squealed and squeezed Grace’s knee. “I cannotbear it another moment! What happened? He’s quite lovely and handsome and you cannot leave out asingle detail, or I shall be crushed!”

  “Nothing happened!” Grace cried, horrified that her expression had shown so much. “Mr. Adlaine is from Leeds, and my father has some business with him, nothing more. I can hardly claim to know him even a little!”

  Ava blinked. Aslow grin spread her lips as she leaned back against the squabs and folded her arms. “I was speaking of Sir William, darling, not Mr. Adlaine. Apparently you have muchmore to tell.”

  Grace began to shake her head, but Ava laughed and sat up, putting her hands on Grace’s knees. “Do not leave out asingle detail, do you hear?” she demanded, and Grace groaned in resignation.

  Nine

  Barrett awoke the next morning to a throbbing headache, brought on not by drink as he might have hoped, but by a sleepless night in which his dreams had burned with the image of Grace smiling at Sir William, her brown eyes sparkling with delight.

  What had he expected, for Chrissakes?

  Did she love Sir William?

  When he’d seen them standing so closely together, smiling so intimately in that way lovers had of looking at one another, he’d felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach and had the breath knocked clean from his lungs. He could not look away, could not help but gape and wonder if she loved Sir William.

  How long had she known him? Was it an affair continued from the summer or something new altogether? What did they say? Did they whisper their declarations of esteem to each other?

  Barrett could not help but wonder if Grace ever thought of him, the man who had kissed her, touched her, held her, adored her in Leeds?

  He’d been
a fool to come—she was clearly immune to the passion they’d ignited in Leeds. In fact, she’d seemed embarrassed to see him and fearful of her association with him, a lowly merchant from Leeds.

  Yet it was nonetheless excruciating, for he’d thought of little else but Grace since she’d left Leeds. Of course he’d tried to convince himself that it was lunacy to pursue this—Grace had been quite clear that she was to marry a titled man with far greater riches than Barrett might ever hope to achieve—but he could not stop thinking of her, or the way her hair shimmered in the light, or the delicate curve of her neck into her shoulder, or her laugh. Or hersmile.

  He’d never been as captivated by a woman as he had been that rainy Michaelmas Day in her drawing room, enchanted and bewitched by her kiss and her smile, and desperately wanting more of her.

  So desperately that he was enticed to leave his mill in his brother’s hands so he could follow her to London with a hope of love. His brother had scoffed at his romantic notions. “Grace Holcomb?” he’d said, clearly surprised. “Are you mad?”

  Yes, he was mad, mad enough to hope. And foolishly, he’d not counted on there being another man. How could he not have contemplated it? What man could look at Grace and not want her? She was vibrant and beautiful and witty and charming—of course she would have suitors in London, and he’d not be surprised if there were squads of them, giving Grace the dilemma of who to choose.

  Barrett’s only regret was that he hadn’t spoken of his feelings for her that day in her drawing room, had let her leave for London without knowing. That mistake had cost him—dearly, perhaps. He’d let her get away and walk into the arms of another man who loved her.

  He got up as the day dawned, splashed ice-cold water on his face. He had determined, after a sleepless night, that he would not disturb her further, but that he’d not make the same mistake twice—he would tell her how he felt before returning to Leeds.

  Barrett arrived at fashionable Upper Seymour Street and stood across the square a moment to take in the house. Mr. Holcomb had bragged about leasing it, mentioning the stonework on the façade of the house—which included some very artful carvings of lions and whatnot that crawled about the corners and above the door. The house was as large as Holcomb claimed—big and garish, it took up half a city block and looked out over Portman Square.