Two Hearts

by Barbara Miller

  “How is your hand, Miss Montrose?” Pierce asked as he stood before the fireplace with his teacup in hand.

  “Very well, thanks to you.” She turned to Lady Morewood. “Brand rescued me from a footpad but not before he’d cut me. How handy to have your own surgeon in the house.”

  “Yes, Brand always thinks so,” Thomas said and sat down beside Maria. “Miss Gravely, you are looking well after your fright.”

  “Very well indeed,” Brand said with a satisfied smile. “And Grace is able to ride already.” He had shown her by the emphasis he’d laid on her first name that he had noticed her slip when she called him Brand but she did not color. She just smiled sheepishly. Catch her correcting him again when there was no propriety at all about the way she rode.

  It was obvious that Grace and his mother could get along well, a point in Grace’s favor if Brand decided he wanted to marry her. Wait, if he decided? He’d boasted that he recognized his own arrogance but that had been a pompous thought as though Grace had nothing to say in the matter or would accept him when he had every reason to believe that she would not.

  Later, as he led her back downstairs he asked, “Do you go to the theater tonight?”

  “Yes, they are opening Twelfth Night for a brief run. I must see how it goes.”

  “Let me take you and bring you home. You and Maria.”

  “Will—will we sit in your box?”

  “Why not?” He knew why not but he thought it was worth a try.

  “I had rather sit in mine.”

  “Very well,” he agreed. “What is the difference?”

  “If there is one, it is a subtle one. But still, that is what I would prefer.”

  “Until tonight.” He lifted her hand to kiss it and when she seemed surprised did the same to Maria to still any complaint.

  He conducted them to Grace’s carriage and helped them both inside, then waved as they left for the short trip home. He might have to revise that poem he was writing on the perfect woman. She must have a sense of humor and compassion and one flaw, a yearning for excitement.

  Maria smiled across at Grace. “Lord Morewood was gazing at you the whole time.”

  “Was he?” Grace stared at Maria and her companion’s smug expression finally registered. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yes and he called you Grace.”

  “Not until I slipped and called him Brand. It seemed so natural with his mother and friend present and calling him that.”

  “I think you should marry him.”

  “Marry him?” Grace stared at her companion. “I hardly know the man. Besides, he is a confirmed bachelor and so am I.”

  “Well, that’s easily mended. You are both just selective and now you have found each other all thanks to me.”

  “You? What did you have to do with the footpad’s attack?”

  Maria looked surprised that Grace could be so dense. “I kept Morewood’s interest until he could get to know you.”

  “He was merely being kind. Besides, I want him as a friend, someone to talk to, not a husband to rule over me.”

  “Are you mad? The most handsome man in London takes an interest in you and all you want is his friendship? Seems an absolute waste to me.”

  “There is no indication that his interest in me goes beyond companionship. It would be stupid to read too much into his kindness and his…”

  “His what?”

  “His loneliness, I suppose.” Grace looked out the window at the shuttered houses. She knew London could be a cold place. “I know he has his mother and Thomas but I get the feeling he has no other friends.”

  “Another way he is much like you.”

  “But I have many friends.”

  “No, you have acquaintances. If you lost them you would never miss them.”

  “I refuse to argue with you. It will put me in a bad mood for tonight.” Though Grace stared out the carriage window and ignored Maria’s smirk she did trot out all her reasons for not marrying. The need to maintain control of her life was paramount. Her father had always given her plenty of freedom. The freedom to do what she wanted when she wanted was important. Beyond that there was only the vague notion that men had ulterior motives and that they did not value women as they should. Was it possible there were other men like her father and could Brand be one of them?

  By the time they reached home, she put away her confusion. Their acquaintance was of such brief duration that she need not fear a marriage proposal…or hope for one. For the first time in her life she was not sure which way to look at it.

  * * * * *

  Grace heard the stir of comment in the pit as Lord Morewood led her into her own box, but she ignored it and occupied herself with arranging her shimmering green silk gown. She had thought that there would be less remark if Brand joined her but he was right. The effect on the gossips was the same. Every head in the boxes turned their way and any woman with a fan hid her face behind it. Maria’s chaperonage did nothing to suppress the whispers.

  Brand acted as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. Of course he was used to creating a sensation. Grace had no notion how well she had always blended into the backdrop of London society until she was suddenly thrust into the foreground. She was no longer a known quantity, someone who could be counted on but a creature who had risen above her place, perhaps even aspired too high.

  “Feeling at all mothlike?” Brand leaned over to ask.

  She couldn’t help the bubble of laughter this produced. “No, but I know how a green actor must feel now. Every eye is on us.”

  “With your penchant for dangerous living this can only please you.”

  “I don’t think I live so dangerously.”

  “Lady Charlton does not agree,” Brand whispered. “She has been trying to catch your eye since we sat down.”

  “Who is that with her, the soldier?” Grace had noticed the dark-visaged man in an officer’s red uniform. His arm was in a sling which immediately invoked her sympathy but she did not want to peer at Lady Charlton’s box.

  “I have no idea. Perhaps a suitor for Lucy.”

  “Ignore her,” Grace advised. “The curtain is about to rise.”

  ‘This will be a unique experience?”

  “How so?”

  “We will be the only two people in the theater actually watching the play.”

  Again she failed to suppress her laughter and Lady Charlton’s fan snapped angrily as she said something to her daughter and the captain of guards. The man’s dark gaze flicked in Grace’s direction and looked an amused challenge at her. He wore a mustache and beard against the current fashion. Grace surmised it might be because it was his right arm that was injured.

  She thought she would have trouble focusing on the stage but it seemed to come more alive than usual. With Brand’s strong form no more than inches from her she felt the isolation of Viola all the more painfully. Had the girl been more trusting she might have had her duke in scene one but then there would have been no play. During the intermission between Act Two and Act Three Brand asked if they wanted something to drink. Grace refused but Maria voted for lemonade and he went to fetch it.

  “Why did you ask for lemonade? Now that Brand is gone anyone might impose on us.”

  “I was thirsty.” Maria glanced about as though they were not the center of attention.

  “I don’t know how you can think of yourself at a time like this.”

  “A time like what?” Her companion was busy staring back at all the people staring at them.

  Grace opened her mouth to reply just as Lady Charlton entered and took Brand’s seat. Her daughter had remained in their box with her female cousin. The soldier was standing behind Lady Charlton and Grace stood with the compulsion to offer him a chair.

  “I wanted you to meet Captain Ferrol Everson, my husband’s cousin.”

  “Captain Everson. Are you on leave from the Peninsula?” She managed a curtsey in the confines of the box just as he gave a slight bow. />
  “Temporarily. It is an honor to meet a dear friend of my cousin’s.”

  “Do you think this is wise, Grace dear?”

  “What?” Grace achieved a blank look she thought was convincing. It was gauche of Lady Charlton to upbraid her in the presence of the captain who looked around the theater as though he could not hear them.

  “Inviting Morewood to your box. People are talking of it.”

  “But it’s safer with Morewood here. He scares away the unwanted guests.”

  Everson coughed to cover a chuckle. “I imagine you have many,” he said.

  “Thank you for understanding, Captain.”

  Maria was saying nothing, glancing from one to the other of them. Her look dared Grace to accuse Lady Charlton of being unwanted. Grace got the feeling Everson did understand.

  “Sir Felix Uttermeyer for one. The last time I was here he intruded on us and made an unwelcome suggestion. Lord Morewood was kind enough to rescue me from him.”

  “Well that is only to be expected when a single lady has her own theater box.”

  Grace’s look of affront was genuine. “Are you saying I have no right to come to the theater simply because I am not married?”

  “But you need some escort.”

  “That is why I have Maria.”

  “She cannot protect you.”

  Everson touched his cousin’s arm. “I’m sure Miss Montrose knows what will suit her.”

  “And the solution is Lord Morewood?” Lady Charlton demanded.

  “He protects me very well.”

  Brand returned at that moment and Grace introduced the soldier to him. She could see them sizing each other up. They both bowed slightly since shaking hands was out of the question. It was Everson’s suggestion that they remove themselves and Grace was glad for his sensitivity.

  “Your lemonade,” he said to Maria.

  “Thank you,” Maria replied as she took both glasses.

  “What unit is Captain Everson from? His uniform did not tell me.”

  “I did not know a uniform could talk.”

  “Perhaps it is new and he has not had his insignias sewn on.”

  “I did not think to ask.”

  He shrugged and asked Grace, “What do you think of the casting for Viola and Sebastian?”

  She thought it was more to distract her from the whispers in the other boxes than from genuine interest. “They are believable as brother and sister, though I would not have said so before tonight. Miss Granger certainly has a voice to play a man whenever she likes. In fact I think she has more ability than Dame Devlin, though that lady is well cast as Olivia. You wouldn’t think Stone had so much sense to look at him.” She could see Brand nodding and turned to him. “Unless you advised him on that as well.”

  “Who? Me?”

  Grace thought the innocence with which he said it betrayed him. “I begin to wonder if you are something of an actor yourself.”

  “Aren’t we all acting a part?” He looked around the theater at all the other patrons. “I play the dutiful son for my mother, the arrogant lord for the rest of the world…”

  “And what for me?” she prompted, feeling a smile tease her lips.

  “That is what is confusing me,” his voice murmured intimately. “I do not think I play a role for you. I think I am myself when I am with you.”

  He turned to her with such an open expression she had to reassure him. She smiled at him. “You do not play a role for your mother either. Your love for her is honest and obvious.”

  “But my pretense that she is not dying is not.”

  “You are allowing her to go with grace and dignity. That is all that matters. Even you cannot hold back time.”

  He was staring at her with a surprised look on his face when the beginning of the next act drew her attention to the stage. To do the actors credit, they did manage to entrance the audience so that by the end of the play the attention was focused back on the stage and the applause was genuine.

  * * * * *

  As they sat in the carriage for the short ride home, Brand knew he wanted Grace, moreover that he wanted to marry her. She understood everything but herself, and he understood her. They were made for each other. But he would be a fool to blurt this out without preamble. He must step carefully to make sure Grace did not think him as bad as all those men who must have given her a disgust of marriage. Her hand in his was a promise that she might be willing to listen. He wondered again why she had never married. Several things suggested themselves. She may have run into many mercenary men. Surely she also had encountered men lusting only after her body. The one way he could set himself apart from the others was to get her to fall in love with him on an intellectual level.

  But it was so tempting to try to get close to her physically. He would have to pace himself. The carriage stopped at her house long before he wanted the ride to end. He helped Maria out first and she went to the door with a yawn and went in, leaving Brand to walk Grace up the steps and actually have a moment alone with her. He assumed his coachman was discreet enough to look the other way though most likely either Maria or the butler was observing them from a side window. “At what hour shall I come to ride? I had rather meet you here than in the park.”

  “Would seven be too early?”

  “No perfect. I shall see you then.” He leaned down to kiss her and when she jerked away with surprise he cursed himself for a fool. Grace was no light-skirt. He had better rein himself in. Even though she liked to live dangerously Grace Montrose was still virginal and not accustomed to anything more than a chaste kiss on her gloved hand.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered. When he let go of her hands the door magically opened to reveal her aged butler.

  She looked back at him, her lips, indeed her cheeks as well, suffused with passion. He smiled a reassurance and trotted down the steps to the carriage. He did not think he had frightened her but perhaps that was what she was hoping for. Maybe he did not understand her as well as he thought.

  Chapter Six

  Brand arrived in the stable yard at Grace’s house at precisely seven o’clock and was surprised to find her already supervising the saddling of her mare. From the presence of her old groom and a cover hack he realized they were going to have a chaperone but the fellow looked like he might be hard of hearing. Brand’s stallion, Sable, arched his neck and pawed the ground in his eagerness to be off. Brand noticed Grace wore her hair tied with a ribbon and trailing down the back of her buff riding habit. Probably she had not had time to arrange it into one of her elaborate styles but he much preferred her russet locks loose even under a hat.

  The groom kept up with them through the streets but once they reached the park stationed himself a respectful distance behind. Brand’s colt desperately wanted a gallop and he could see that Grace’s mare was getting excited by him tossing the bit in her mouth and prancing with her tail up.

  Grace shifted her gazed to Brand with a mischievous smile. “I think we had better let these two run or they will go back to their stables and kick down the walls.”

  “Lead on, Grace.” He noticed that she rode with her reins in one hand and remembered her injury. Probably she shouldn’t be riding yet. He had no more thought this than the sleek mare left them in a flurry of hooves. Sable squealed his surprise and Brand eased the reins enough for the young stallion to gallop after them. Even though Brand was reining him tightly Sable covered the ground to the mare in a controlled purposeful effort that had him blowing harder than an all out carefree gallop.

  Grace glanced at him and slowed her mare to a measured canter. Once his horse came abreast of the mare he was satisfied to slow as well.

  “Do you keep only the one mare?”

  “Yes and a hack for my groom plus my retired hunter. The carriage team, of course. Not much of a stable.”

  “Actually I envy you your stable building. He saw Grace glance at him in surprise so he hastened to add, “It’s bigger than mine and with more of a yard.”
>
  Grace looked up at him, the rose plume from her sleek forage cap mingling with her hair as it danced in the red sunlight of early morning.

  “My brother envies it as well.” She tugged her mare down to a trot and finally a cooling walk.

  Brand felt grateful since making conversation on horseback was challenging at any other pace. “I tried to buy your house when your father died.”

  “So our solicitor said. Were you surprised it was left to me?”

  “Yes, most fathers would have given both to the son and turned you into a dependent.”

  “I think he understood I could never live in Wallace’s household.”

  “So he gave you a means to keep your independence and you have chosen to do so.” He thought that was an oblique means of introducing marriage into the conversation. “That is a puzzle to a great many men.”

  “And a temptation to a great many others,” Grace countered, turning her mare when they got to the western end off the park.

  “You do yourself an injustice.” He ran an admiring gaze over her. “I do not think it is only the money that tempts them.”

  “Thank you. It can certainly not be a pull to you unless you have managed to encumber your estates and waste your principal without me hearing of it.”

  He chuckled. “No, I have only one expensive avocation and that is—” He stopped abruptly, for he had almost blurted out his involvement in the theater. Even though Miss Montrose enjoyed the theater would she think less of him to know how much money he dumped into producing his own plays?

  After what seemed a long pause Grace asked, “Who is she?” with a mischievous glance at him under the rim of her hat. “Sorry, that was a rude question.”

  “Not an unexpected one,” he said with relief. “It is not a woman. I have squandered a fortune on my library.” That, at least, was true.

  “I would hardly consider that a vice, preserving books that can be enjoyed for generations.”

  “Ah, yes, if I ever get around to producing the next generation.” He thought the hint was pretty broad and she had given him the opening.