Two Hearts

by Barbara Miller

  Chapter Twelve

  Grace found standing in line to be announced very tiresome for she and Maria were at too close a quarters with others to be able to discuss props, costumes, or set design. They could not even talk about Little Ned or Jilly. Grace looked down at her gray silk dress and the daring bodice and realized she dressed like a society lady, not a matron but certainly not a green girl. She had style but did it border on the daring?

  “Do you think that army captain will be here tonight?” Maria asked.

  “Captain Everson? I doubt it. He has only just come to Town and is quite unknown. At least I never heard of Lord Carlton having a cousin, so Everson could not have been in society before.”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what it is, but I cannot like the man.”

  Grace turned to her companion. Maria frowned. Even in her stylish deep maroon the frown made her seem older than her forty-five years.

  “It isn’t for us to like or dislike him, so long as we aren’t rude to him,” Grace said. “But why?”

  “You are the one always talking about agendas and motives, Grace. You figure out why he is always in your path of late.”

  Since Maria had good instincts about men Grace did apply her mind to the reason they were running into Everson. He had been pushed forward by Lady Carlton. Though the handsome captain might be handy as an escort at social functions she certainly did not want him to marry her daughter nor would she have wanted a soldier around her young son, the new Lord Carlton, putting ideas in his head. Yet she was running the risk of both, so why?

  The captain is here for me,” Grace finally said. “She wants to distract me from Brand.”

  “My suspicions exactly,” Maria agreed. “Only one question remains.”

  “Yes, is Everson also an innocent victim or part of the plot? It should prove interesting to find out.”

  When Grace and Maria were finally announced they found Brand hovering at the head of the stairs. Maria smiled at him and sought out her dowager cronies.

  “Well, Grace,” Brand said as he took her hand and kissed it. “You are sadly late but here we are at a ball together where the hostess is beforehand enough with the world to be able to afford professional musicians. And your brother is nowhere in sight.”

  “Professional? Was my performance that bad?”

  “No, you are far superior at the pianoforte to most young ladies I know.”

  She directed a guarded look his way and he arched his eyebrows in surprise.

  “What word are you going to quibble with in that sentence? Young?” He began to lead her toward the dance floor.

  She laughed. “No but we do seem to argue. If I am late it was Thomas’ fault. He had a notion I might not want to wear gloves this evening, so he came to remove the stitches.”

  “Let me see. Ah, he did a good job. I can scarcely tell where your palm was cut.”

  “It is amazing to me it happened only a week ago.”

  “I know. It feels like we are old friends.”

  “Yes, perhaps because we are so much alike.”

  He immediately led her into a set of country dances and she schooled herself to keep the conversation light and noncommittal since they could be heard by any one of thirty people.

  “We do tend to argue, though.”

  “What are friends for?” he asked before they switched partners and switched back again. Her silk gown shimmered with the abruptness of the movements.

  “Are you suggesting I enjoy sparring with you?” She ducked under his arm and spun to face him.

  “No more than I do with you.”

  “I really think that no matter what stand I took you would adopt the opposite position just to play devil’s advocate.”

  “Except where your brother is concerned. I think we can agree how much we dislike him. How did you shake him tonight?”

  “It was not easy.” She found it exhausting trying to carry on a conversation when she was having to mind the steps of the dance and resented that Brand found it so effortless. “So you admit to provoking me?” she finally asked when they came back together.

  “Yes and you should feel complimented.”

  She paused, trying to reason it out. “I’ll bite. Why is that a compliment?”

  “Most women would not even rise to the bait, would not even understand.”

  “Do not let your inflated self-esteem blind you to their motives.”

  “Ah, an insult and a good one,” Brand acknowledged. “What am I blind to?”

  “They do not want to argue with you because they want something, your money or your title.”

  “I think you are leaving out something very obvious they might want.”

  She took advantage of a curtsey to regard him coolly, even looking him up and down and letting her gaze stray to forbidden territory, a daring ploy on the dance floor. “No, I see nothing else they might be interested in.”

  “You are a minx. What about myself? There are women who are attracted to just me.”

  “Since you are rich and titled, how will you even know?”

  “The same way you would know.”

  She must have looked puzzled for he smiled as he took her arm to lead her through the next figure.

  “That is why you never married, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “You’re afraid they are all after your money, that you can never trust any man except one as wealthy as you.”

  “And why would I trust him either?” That stopped him but she was sorry she had said it. He had finally uttered the word marriage and she had squashed the mention of it. If Maria had overheard she would be livid.

  “If you never trust anyone you will be forever alone.”

  The intensity of his concern angered her. She did not want his pity. “We were speaking of your singleness, not mine.” There, she had done it again, separated herself from the concept of marriage. Perhaps that’s what she wanted in her heart, a dalliance but nothing as serious as marriage. But if she wanted children, marriage was a necessity.

  He was silent for a time and she feared she had squelched the idea utterly.

  “We are well matched, for neither of us needs ulterior motives. I told your brother today that if he kept annoying you, I would put him on the stage to Yorkshire myself.”

  Grace sucked in her breath and blinked at him. “So that was what all the shouting was in aid of.” It was as she had thought. Brand sought only a theater companion, someone to argue about great literature with. She had suspected Brand wanted to discuss marriage with her brother, though there was no need. But they had only argued about Wallace’s presence. Why could she not dispel a feeling of disappointment? Yet she knew that if Brand had asked Wallace for permission to court her she would have been angry.

  He gazed down at her, his firm lips curling in that now familiar smile with the dents at the corners of his mouth. She wanted so much another kiss but there was no opportunity. Nor was there likely to be with Wallace in Town.

  Finally the dance was over and he walked with her around the ballroom, keeping her hand tucked into his arm and nodding at people he knew but never slowing his pace enough for any of them to engage them in deep conversation. She could not help noticing they left a trail of whispered gossip in their wake. Was he laying claim to her and for what purpose?

  “Brand to you think this public display of interest is wise?”

  “Why not? I only hope— Oh, no!”

  “What is it? Wallace?” Grace asked, craning her neck past the crowd to look toward the door. But she saw only a striking blond woman of middle-age talking to Lady Montclare who pointed toward them. When the woman bore down on them Brand rolled his gaze heavenward and blew out an impatient breath.

  “Who is she Brand, a former mistress?”

  “Unfortunately, no. She is my sister, Dahlia.”

  “Dahlia? But why the tragic face
, I mean other than the name?”

  Brand chuckled. “You will find out soon enough.” He reached a hand out to the lady and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Dahlia, I did not know you were coming to Town or I would have left word where we were going.”

  Grace glanced at Robin with his new friends and the boy looked suddenly terrified.

  “Allow me to introduce Miss Montrose,” Brand continued, “My sister Mrs. Jonathan Briggs.”

  Dahlia nodded and said. “Is she your latest?” as though Grace were deaf or a stone statue.

  “Flirtation?” Grace said boldly. She preferred to substitute that word for what Dahlia was obviously thinking. “Yes I am.”

  Brand glanced from one to the other of them as though he feared he was about to witness a cat fight. Finally he found a trio of unoccupied chairs in a corner and pulled them toward the oasis.

  “What is my son doing here?”

  “Dancing and getting to know these young ladies and gentlemen, a necessary part of his education.” Brand nodded toward the rowdy group.

  “I did not mean at this ball, I meant in London, when he is supposed to be at school.”

  “Spring holiday?” Grace supplied, causing Brand to gape at her. Grace shrugged and unfurled her fan.

  “Yes, didn’t you know?” Brand asked. “Didn’t you get his letter? I was sure he had written to you.”

  Dahlia looked confused. “But why didn’t he come home?”

  “I invited him to London. The boy needs to find his feet here and make contacts. He’ll be the head of the family someday so he should know these people.”

  “You invited Robin? You have never invited him anywhere before or shown the slightest interest in him.”

  “But, he is my heir, as you have often reminded me.”

  Grace could see a sheen of sweat on Brand’s brow but finally Dahlia dropped her suspicious gaze and glanced toward her son. “He does seem to be popular but it looks as though he has a black eye.”

  “I told Morewood not to take him to Jackson’s Boxing Salon but he wouldn’t listen,” Grace said.

  “You seem to be very intimate with the family.”

  “Miss Montrose is an old friend of mine.”

  “Very well, I may as well talk to a few people as long as I am here.” Dahlia got up and began to circulate.

  Brand breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Your sister is so much like my brother, I would have thought you’d have established a method to deal with such people.”

  “I admit I did let your brother provoke me again. How did you get away tonight?”

  “I drugged his dinner wine.”

  Brand laughed and that called attention to them. “No seriously, are you sure he has not followed you?”

  “He always takes a nap after dinner. I had one of the footmen get a hack and keep it in the alley. Then when we changed Maria and I slipped down the back stair.”

  “It’s criminal to have to sneak about in your own house.”

  “I agree.” She used her free hand to fan herself in the overheated room. “Unless I can rout Wallace in the next few days, I see disaster looming for my opening night dinner.”

  “Let me get you something to drink. Have you tried being firm with him?”

  “Brand, you know I have. It’s like pounding on a stone wall with your head.” She took the champagne he handed her and was tempted to toss it off in one gulp but sipped for the sake of propriety.

  “I have an idea. Get him arrested for breaking and entering.”

  “But my servants let him in. Is that the best you can do?” Her nails tapped the glass she held in the injured hand.

  “I searched my law books for hours. He hasn’t stolen anything, except your horse and he took that back. Unfortunately, being an annoying relative is not against the law.”

  “More’s the pity. The only crimes he’s guilty of are stupidity and bad manners. Even in London I can’t prosecute him for that. No, I think I may have to bribe him.”

  Brand’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

  “That sort of extortion will never end.”

  “I know. Brand, Lady Montclare is looking this way. I think she wants you to dance with someone.”

  “Not another, I did my duty earlier.” Brand took Grace’s arm and made for the doorway.

  “But Brand, you must spread yourself out and dance with all the girls like Robin is doing.”

  “He can take my place as available bachelor of the evening.”

  “I have been trying to think how my father handled Wallace, for he never shouted at my brother, though Wallace did his share of shouting.”

  “Your father had power over him. Wallace could not run his length.”

  “And Father was firm. He let him sit in the roundhouse one night when Wallace had gone on a drunken spree. I think he felt living in Yorkshire would be less tempting to him than London.”

  “Has your brother any bad vices?”

  “He gambles and spends too much on horses and hounds. His competence as a farmer I cannot judge. I remember Father laughed at him, which of course, made Wallace even angrier but the ridicule did send him away.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Brand said as they gained the hallway.

  “We should not just abandon the ballroom.”

  “I shall say you were faint and needed air.”

  “What, blame me for your indiscretion?” she squeaked as he pulled her behind a column.

  “You are the ultimate cause. I have never misbehaved with any other maiden lady.” His lips were a scant three inches from her face and she glanced around, afraid of discovery, yet excited because of the possibility.

  The Montclare son stepped into the hallway. He was slight and only a few years older than Robin.

  “Ah, there you are, Miss Montrose. My mother bid me ask to take you in to supper.”

  “I believe Miss Montrose is promised during supper.”

  “So sorry to miss the honor of dining with you,” Grace said breathlessly.

  “Perhaps another time,” the young man said with a grin and left them.

  “That was rude of you,” Grace complained but Brand’s hand was on her arm now and stealing toward her throat. She had the most delicious feeling he was going to kiss her and the most horrible thought that they were going to be discovered. Was that what he wanted to make his possession complete?

  “Yes, I thought so.” His lips brushed hers suggestively and she felt hers tremble. The kiss was warm and silken and she went limp as though he had to hold her up. Indeed if not for the column behind her and his two hands cradling her face she thought she would slide to the floor. She loved the kiss but she disliked feeling weak and in someone’s power, even Brand’s.

  When she could catch her breath, she said, “I think you should realize by now, I do not like to be claimed as though I were someone’s possession.”

  “But I have been good all evening.”

  “On the contrary, you have behaved very badly.”

  “I danced only one dance with you.”

  “Yes and now you plan to take me in to dinner, making your attention to me seem singular.”

  “It is singular.” He bent toward her face again and she felt his breath on her lips.

  “But I don’t know that I want it to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It ill behooves us to make such a public display when I do not know my own mind.” She pushed him back with one hand, the injured one, and he did take a confused step backward. “Certainly I do not know yours,” she continued.

  He cocked his head, perhaps composing an explanation but she had a feeling it would not encompass a marriage proposal.

  A blur of red to her right caused her to look that way. It was Everson.

  “Miss Montrose.” He clicked his heels together. “Are you all right?”

  “Just too hot in the ball room. I am better now. Champagne and heat are not a good combination.” She pushed herself away from th
e column and Brand made space for her to stand on her own.

  The captain advanced on them. “I could not ask you to dance but I was wondering if I could escort you to supper.”

  “Yes, that would be delightful.”

  Brand frowned. “If you are feeling better then I will leave you in the captain’s capable hands—hand.”

  Everson took her arm and led her across the hall to the refreshment salon where he found them seats in a corner of the room near a small table. While the captain went to get them a plate of patties and meringues she cast about in her mind for a subject of conversation.

  “This should hold us for a while.” He put two small plates down and sat with a sigh of satisfaction.

  “Do you make a long stay in Town, Captain?”

  “I have no idea. I have to wait to find out if I will be fit for service again.”

  “If not?”

  “Then I must find a new occupation.” He hailed a waiter and asked for lemonade for Grace and wine for himself.

  “Do you have a home to go back to?”

  “I’m a second son and have no mind to interfere in home life. I suppose I could teach somewhere, Sandhurst perhaps.”

  “And if you are fit for duty?”

  “Then it’s back to the Peninsula and let the French have another go at me.” He laughed but it was a bitter sound. The curl of dark hair that fell across his brow made him seem a desperate character in spite of his smile.

  “It must be awful not knowing if you will be alive from one day to the next.”

  “Not so awful. It doesn’t require a lot of planning at any rate. The only bad thing is losing so many friends.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “It’s not the loss of them so much as waking up on a given morning and because there are so many of them, not being able to remember who is alive and who is dead.” He took a bite of food and gazed at the plate.

  Grace felt herself gaping at him. “I had no idea.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “Good lord, I have broken my vow not to maunder on about the war.”

  “But I want to know.”

  “Believe me, lady, you do not. Let us talk about something we both enjoy. The theater.”