The School for Heiresses

by Sabrina Jeffries

  But then again, Mr. Holcomb was not the sort of man to enjoy his wealth quietly.

  As Barrett stood taking in the house, the front door suddenly opened, and Sir William stepped outside, donned his hat, jogged down the steps to the street, and struck out purposefully to the north.

  Barrett watched his rival until he could no longer see him, then glanced back at the two great oak doors that served as the main entrance to the house. Determined to say his piece, he strode across the street, took the steps two and three at a time, lifted the knocker and let it fall twice.

  A footman opened the door in a matter of moments, his livery so red that he reminded Barrett of a ripe tomato. He bowed low. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said, and extended a heavy silver tray for his card.

  “Mr. Adlaine calling for Miss Holcomb,” he said, dropping his card into the tray.

  “Very good, sir. If you would be so kind as to step inside.”

  He followed the footman into a foyer so large and deep that at first glance, it seemed more appropriate for a place of business than a residence. Barrett half-expected to see dozens of clerks emerging at any moment. The décor, however, was not business-like at all. The walls were painted a vibrant blue. Papier-mâché columns on the walls rose up and gave the illusion of supporting a domed ceiling on which was painted a scene of dozens of cherubs on clouds. Barrett had a fine business, was steadily building his fortune and his future…but he had nothing that could compete with this.

  “If you please sir,” the footman said from his right, startling Barrett. “Miss Holcomb will receive you in the yellow sitting room.”

  As he fell behind the footman, he reviewed in his mind precisely what he would say. At a polished oak door, the footman rapped softly and opened the door. “Mr. Adlaine,” he said, bowing low, and stepped aside so that Barrett could enter.

  As Barrett walked across the threshold, his gaze immediately went to Grace. She looked resplendent in a white frothy dress suitable for tea, her hair braided and hanging over one shoulder. She smiled beguilingly as he entered, and he thought, in that moment before her warden accosted him, that Grace was happy to see him.

  In stark contrast, however, her warden, or chaperone, was not the least bit happy to see him. She stepped between him and Grace, her thin lips turned down with her displeasure, her thin hands clasped so tightly before her that he feared she might snap a bone. “You ought not to have come, sir!” she proclaimed. “No good can come of it, you must know!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mrs. Wells!” Grace exclaimed, her voice full of mortification. “Please allow me to at leastintroduce Mr. Adlaine!”

  “No introduction is necessary,” the woman said haughtily. “I know who he is and what he wants.”

  “I beg your pardon, madam, but how is that possible?” he asked, trying to be polite. “We have never met.”

  She peered up at him with little blue eyes. “Miss Holcomb informed me who you are.”

  He looked at Grace, whose cheeks were stained pink with embarrassment. “He is myfriend, Mrs. Wells.”

  “Is he, indeed? Your friend all the way from Leeds at this time of year? Your father will be very displeased,” Mrs. Wells said to Grace. “Verydispleased.”

  “Why in God’s name should he be displeased?” Barrett demanded. “I’ve a good relationship with the man—I’ve bought enough of his bloody sheep to at least warrant a call on his daughter while I am in London!”

  “You seek above yourself, sir,” the woman said.

  “Mrs. Wells!”Grace exclaimed. “That isquite enough!” She hurried forward, put her hand on Barrett’s arm. “Do come in, sir,” she said, drawing his attention from her keeper. “I confess to being quite startled last evening—I had not known you were in London!”

  “Yes,” he said, with a wary look at Mrs. Wells, who looked as if she might possibly be brandishing a bludgeon behind her back. “I did not know I would be in London when last we met.”

  “Then you’ve come on business?” she asked, gesturing to a chair.

  “Of a sort,” he answered honestly, and focused his attention on Grace, who instantly warmed him with her smile.

  Grace and Mrs. Wells sat. So did Barrett. As he’d not made many formal calls on ladies in his life—actually, none—he felt uncomfortable and out of place, and chafed in the presence of Mrs. Wells, who continued to glare at him. He wanted to speak with Grace, to ask how she was, how she found London. If she loved Sir William, if she’d loved him for very long.

  “How long do you intend to be in London?” Mrs. Wells asked.

  “I am leaving on the morrow.”

  “Oh,”Grace said, her smile fading as Mrs. Wells smiled for the first time. “Where are you staying, Mr. Adlaine?” Grace asked.

  “With my friend, Lord Dewar.”

  Mrs. Wells’s thin brows rose almost to her hairline with her surprise. “Youare acquainted with Lord Dewar?”

  He really had the urge to roll the old crone in a carpet and toss her out the window. “We’ve been good friends since we were schoolmates,” he said tightly.

  “Indeed?” Mrs. Wells exclaimed and exchanged a glance with Grace. “Schooled with Lord Dewar!” She was, apparently, quite impressed and surprised by his connection.

  “How have you found London?” Grace asked.

  He looked at her big brown eyes, the tiny curls of auburn hair at her temples. He noticed she was fidgeting with the sash of her gown a little, and that she was not wearing the gold cross. “I despaired it would be dreadfully dull after the Season, but as it happens, there are still quite a few people in town,” she added.

  He nodded for lack of anything to say, and self-consciously put his hands on his knees.

  Mrs. Wells looked at him expectantly, and he supposed it was his turn to say something trite. He glanced at the window, saw the sunshine that would soon fade with dusk. “The weather is unusually warm in town for this time of year,” he said, his hands clenching his knees. He looked at Grace again. “Perhaps we might walk in the square and avail ourselves of the sun before it disappears.”

  “I would like that very much,” Grace said, coming instantly to her feet, surprising him and, judging by the way her jaw slacked, Mrs. Wells, too.

  “Miss Holcomb, I am not dressed to go out,” Mrs. Wells protested.

  “Then I shall ask a footman to attend us,” Grace said, her eyes on Barrett.

  He, too, quickly gained his feet.

  “A footman! That is hardly proper!” Mrs. Wells protested.

  “I’ll just fetch a cloak,” Grace said, ignoring her.

  Barrett realized Grace was making an escape from Mrs. Wells, and for that, he was grateful. The old crone was clearly horrified that Grace meant to go out with him into the wild outdoors, chaperoned by a mere footman. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said curtly, and walked to the door, reaching it just ahead of Grace.

  “Oh, Grace, your father will bemost unhappy!” Mrs. Wells cried as she, too, gained her feet.

  “Don’t be silly! Mr. Adlaine hardly means to kidnap me,” Grace sang out, and fairly flew down the stairs, the tiny heels of her slippers clicking staccato against the marble.

  In the foyer, Grace grabbed a cloak from a cloak tree and yanked a bellpull. Another man in the red tomato livery appeared, bowing low.

  “Richard,” she said breathlessly, “send Daniel out to the square to have a walkabout with Mr. Adlaine and myself, will you?”

  “Daniel,miss?” the footman asked uncertainly.

  “Yes, yes, Daniel!” she said, shooing him along. “And do please be quick about it!”

  The footman bowed and walked quickly in the opposite direction. Barrett grabbed the cloak from Grace’s hand and draped it over her shoulders just as Mrs. Wells appeared on the landing above them. She leaned over the railing and called down, “Miss Holcomb, please wait! I shall join you shortly—”

  “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Wells!” Grace called u
p just as an old footman, his wig askew, walked a little crookedly into the foyer.

  “Daniel! Oh, Grace, that will not do!” Mrs. Wells cried upon seeing him. “That poor man can barely see or hear! He could be crushed by a carriage trying to cross the street!”

  “I shall keep a vigilant eye on him!”

  In the meantime, the old footman bowed so low that Barrett feared his wig would fall off, then rose and said, “I am at your service, Miss Holcomb.”

  “Thank you, Daniel,” Grace said kindly. “We just mean to walk in the square, and Mrs. Wells is not dressed. Would you mind?”

  The footman responded by lurching to the door and pulling it open. Grace grabbed a bonnet and she and Barrett followed him.

  “Miss Holcomb!”Mrs. Wells shrieked behind them.

  But they had escaped, had made it to the bottom of the steps and onto the street with the footman inching along behind them.

  On the street, Grace lifted her face to the sun with a sigh of relief, then smiled brilliantly at Barrett. “I am so glad you have come, Mr. Adlaine. I have been desperate to be out of the house all day.” She gave him a playful frown. “But I should be cross with you for not telling me you’d be in London.”

  “It was…unplanned,” he said, and put his hand on her elbow to guide her across the street.

  In the square, they slowed their pace so they wouldn’t lose Daniel completely, and walked side by side toward a round arbor in the middle of the square. Barrett didn’t know what to say now—his mind was racing through the various things he’d intended to say, all of which seemed inappropriate now.

  “I am very pleased to see you,” Grace said guardedly. “I hadn’t expected it.”

  He smiled sparingly. “I had not…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Miss Holcomb…Grace,” he said, despising how uncertain and boyish he seemed at the moment. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back. “I have thought quite a lot about you.”

  She smiled up at him. “And I you,” she said, and shyly shifted her gaze to the path before them.

  He sighed, feeling a bit beefheaded. He had never proclaimed his esteem or admiration for a woman, and wished he’d thought to bring something, a bouquet of flowers, perhaps. Anything to bolster his flagging confidence. He glanced over his shoulder, noticed that Daniel had taken a seat on a wrought-iron bench.

  “If I may inquire,” he said tentatively, shifting his gaze to Grace again. “Is Sir William a particular friend?”

  Grace blinked. A moment passed before she shrugged a little and looked at the vines over which she was trailing her fingers. Barrett imagined her walking along the rose garden of his house—his very small manor house—trailing her fingers against the rose blooms.

  “He is a friend,” she said at last.

  Neither of them spoke.

  They were nearing the arbor, and as it was late in the day and a chill was settling around London, most people had gone indoors. With the exception of Daniel somewhere behind them and one or two men striding through the square, they were almost alone. They said nothing more until they reached the arbor, at which point Barrett quite lost his mind, or found his courage—he really had no idea which. “Grace,” he said, stopping in the path. “There is something I must tell you.”

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Adlaine?” she asked, her gaze dropping to his lips.

  “No,” he said. “Not…wrong,precisely, but…” Really, he could scarcely think with her looking at his lips. “I came to London to see you,” he admitted. “I’ve no other business in town but that.”

  Grace blinked. “Oh,” she said, and suddenly flashed a lovely smile that spurred him on.

  “I must be mad,” he said, studying her face, soaking up her image to hold in his mind’s eye. In the waning light of day, her skin had the rich luster of pearls. “I understand quite well that you have come to London with a purpose.” Her lips…Barrett was assaulted with the memory of those lips. He impulsively reached out to touch the column of her neck. “Yes, I am quite mad, I fear.”

  “For wanting to see me?”

  He smiled a little, caressed the hollow of her throat, the soft patch of skin where the cross should have been resting. “For wanting you at all.”

  She looked up at him with big brown eyes that reflected the desire he felt, desire he should not feel, desire that would not be sated. He should not touch her, should not kiss those lips, for it would only torture him. He should not gaze at her so longingly, or want to feel the weight of her bare breast in his hand. Yet he could not seem to drop his hand, to look away, to regain his senses. He was mesmerized by her, his heart and mind seized by her and this single moment beneath an arbor in a public square in the middle of London.

  “If you are mad, then so must I be,” she said, and leaned into him, placing her slender hand on his chest as she rose up on her toes, and brushed her lips against his, settling lightly on his bottom lip, scarcely touching him but clinging to him all at once.

  Whether it was her boldness or the erotic simplicity of that kiss, it electrified Barrett. His male instincts rapidly took hold—he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and returning her kiss with one that was more intense and urgent and filled with a man’s longing.

  His tongue swept boldly and possessively into her mouth, drinking her in. Grace’s hands moved up around his neck; her tongue darted out to tangle with his. When he dragged his mouth to her ear, she kissed his eye, his temple; her hands ran down his arms, across his chest.

  He heard her sigh, felt the grip of her fingers on his arm. With her body pressed against his, every delicious inch of it, he put his hand against the side of her breast, then over it, squeezing it, and Grace sighed long and deep, put her hand against his cheek, her fingers against his lips.“Barrett,” she whispered.

  It took him a moment to regain his senses; he focused on the feel of her fingers as they drifted across his lips, forced himself to remember who and where he was, and forced himself to drop his hands.

  Grace’s eyes were closed, but she was smiling softly as her hand drifted away from him. When she at last opened her eyes, her smile turned brilliant. “I am happy you’ve come to London.”

  She could not possibly have been happier than he was at that moment. He reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, his gaze steady on hers. But then he heard a man clear his throat.

  Daniel.They’d forgotten about Daniel. Barrett turned and saw the old man standing just outside the arbor, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Oh,” Grace said, withdrawing from Barrett and fidgeting with her cloak. “Thank you, Daniel,” she muttered.

  “We’d best return before you take cold,” Barrett said.

  “Very good, sir,” Daniel said, and began walking back the way they had come.

  Barrett glanced at Grace, who put a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter, and as they walked back to the huge house on Upper Seymour Street, they laughed together like lovers.

  Ten

  The next two weeks went by so quickly for Grace that the days and events blurred together. It was remarkable—after suffering through two Seasons in London with only a handful of gentleman callers, she was suddenly juggling two full courtships.

  Mrs. Wells was enthralled with Sir William’s attentions, which were, Grace had to admit, charmingly persuasive. He said all the proper things, was very solicitous of her, and was a perfect gentleman. Grace truly admired him; under any other circumstance, she could see herself married to him and presiding as mistress over Gosford Hall, which, her friend Ava had pointed out, was quite large and quite grand.

  But while she admired Sir William, when she saw him, she did not experience the shock of excitement she felt each time she saw Barrett Adlaine. When she sawhim, her world erupted in a cascade of stars.

  Unfortunately, Grace did not see Barrett as often as she saw Sir William, for Mrs. Wells made sure invitations for tea or supper or walking in Hyde Park were
extended to Sir William. She made equally sure none were extended to Mr. Adlaine.

  Mrs. Wells worked tirelessly to keep Grace away from Mr. Adlaine, and had probably written numerous letters to her father relaying her diligent work on his behalf. But Grace was too clever for her keeper, and arranged, through written messages exchanged with the help of pliable servants—namely her maid, Betty—to meet Mr. Adlaine in public venues such as the zoo, museums, and once, Westminster Abbey.

  If Barrett was offended by the fact he never received a proper invitation to her house, he gave no indication. And really, Grace preferred it this way, for she and Barrett saw a lot of London as a result. But it wasn’t until word began to spread throughout theton andles on-dit in the newspapers that Sir William intended to offer for Grace Holcomb (with commentary as to how shocking that was, given that Grace’s father was in trade) that Grace confided in Ava.

  At first, Ava was titillated by the prospect of two suitors: she was the last person to argue that a woman should not receive the attention of as many men as she might attract, for she’d gained quite a reputation for precisely that before her marriage. But as time went on, Ava seemed to lose her enthusiasm for the dual courtship.

  “What do you mean to do?” Ava demanded one day upon seeing Grace’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “You cannot allow Mr. Adlaine’s courtship if you are to accept Sir William’s offer!”

  Grace shrugged. “Sir William has not offered, so therefore I see no reason I cannot accept the attentions of both men.”

  “But what shall you do when Sir William offers? For hewill offer, Grace. It is all but assured.”

  Grace wondered how Ava could possibly be so certain that an offer wasassured. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly as the very thought of having to give up Mr. Adlaine sobered her. “The truth is…” Her voice trailed off—did she evenknow the truth? She was fond of both men, but in vastly different ways.