But as he took his seat again, he realized it was he who should thank her, for the topic of how many men he might have killed and how he felt about having done so was blessedly forgotten.
He looked askance at her as Sir Phillip steered them into a safe new conversation about the soiree he and his wife would be having soon, when his friends and fellow judges on the circuit court passed through on their way to the Assizes.
“You’ll all be invited,” Lady De Geoffrey said with a decorous smile, but Trevor wasn’t listening.
If there was any doubt that Grace had choked on purpose, or rather, faked it from the start to rescue him, she removed it when she gave him a good kick under the table.
As if to say, “You owe me.”
He hid his faint smile behind the brim of his wineglass as he took another sip. Indeed, I do, my dear.
Maybe “hate” was too strong a word.
Hope yet remained.
Chapter 15
“Now, Miss Kenwood, my mind is quite made up!” Lady Windlesham dragged her aside as soon as the women had retreated to the drawing room, leaving the men to their brandy and cigars. “Now that I’ve had a chance to meet this charming man for myself, I am quite resolved. Lord Trevor must marry my daughter. Heaven knows the stubborn gel will have nothing more to do with poor Lord Brentford. She cannot abide even to hear his name spoken—and we all know why that match didn’t work out,” the baroness reminded her with an accusing huff. “Thankfully, you have another chance to make it up to me, and pay for what you’ve done to this family by bringing that unspeakable woman here. I shall be counting on you to help me secure Lord Trevor for Calpurnia.”
Grace pressed her mouth shut, her lips tightly sealed.
She would have liked to tell the baroness where she could put her plans, but how did one refuse a favor, however outrageous, to a hostess who had just treated one to a grand feast?
She did not always do well in awkward situations. The choking trick was unlikely to work but once a night. While she hesitated, debating how to reply, Lady Windlesham took her silence for agreement.
“Good, then. I knew I could count on you. Still, it is all such a bother. She and George always seemed so perfectly matched—and he will be a marquess! But what he did was unforgivable.” Her Ladyship let out a vexed sigh as she scanned her drawing room, making sure the other ladies were content. She shook her head. “If he had kept his dalliances out of sight in London, we could have turned a blind eye. But to do it right here, under our noses! He humiliated all of us with his flagrant indiscretion. He should be ashamed.”
“He is, my lady. He is very sorry.”
“Well, it’s not enough,” she murmured. “At least not for Calpurnia. I’m a practical woman. I would happily forgive him, but she’s the one who’ll have to live with him, and she’s not having it.”
“But she has received his apologies?”
“Oh, several. She burns them. I imagine our dear George will soon have cause to feel even sorrier still. Maybe then he’ll learn his lesson.”
At that moment, over by the fireplace where the other ladies sat on the small, striped sofas, Lady Stokes passed wind loud enough to be heard in the next county.
“Good God!” Lady Windlesham muttered while the others fought not to react. “If she weren’t a countess, I wouldn’t allow that woman to mop my floors.”
Mrs. Bowen-Hill quickly supplied a polite new topic, while Calpurnia looked ready to fall on the floor with the agony of holding in hilarity.
Grace did not dare meet her young friend’s insistent stare as she knew that the debutante would lose that battle.
“Now, then. I will work to arrange some sort of outing for us all again, so that our new neighbor will have another chance to appreciate my daughter’s charms.”
“Um, my lady, what if it becomes plain at some future point that Lord Trevor and she are not well suited?”
“Nonsense. Any man can be made to suit any woman as long as their match is appropriate.”
“Yes, but what if he has reconciled with his former fiancée?”
Lady Windlesham turned to her in suspicion. “Why should he do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Grace said rather guiltily. Because I told him to?
“They, um, they were engaged for a long time, I believe.”
“Not anymore!” the baroness said with a gleam in her eyes. “I hardly think that is going to happen. Think on it! That fool Laura Bayne humiliated Lord Trevor as badly as Lord Brentford did Calpurnia. You see? It gives them all the more reason to be drawn to each other.
“Who better to understand what the other has been through? Might not suit, indeed. Leave the planning to me, Miss Kenwood,” she chided. “All I want from you is a little assistance in managing Calpurnia. Nicely done at dinner, by the way. I thought I’d choke, myself, when she asked that horrid question. To hear any daughter of mine say such a thing! Believe you me, I intend to scald her ears about that. Thankfully, you saved the day, as always.”
With this astounding rare compliment, Lady Windlesham gave Grace a conspiratorial smirk, then sailed off again to join her lady guests in taking after-dinner tea.
Lord, help me. That woman scares me to death. Grace frowned after their hostess, unhappy with her own inability to stand up to Her Ladyship.
The iron-willed baroness seemed to think she could control everyone around her if she exerted sufficient effort. Grace rather doubted that Lord Trevor Montgomery was the sort of man to bend to the ruling matron’s wishes.
But if somehow he should take a liking to Calpurnia, maybe he’d be happy to go along with her mother’s scheme.
More likely, he had already taken the obvious advice Grace had given him during their quarrel and made up with his frosty golden goddess from the Lievedon ballroom.
Grace supposed if that were the case, she would have to answer to Lady Windlesham for her role in giving him such traitorous advice.
Either way, Grace thought, it seemed so foolish of her now to have dreamed even for a brief few minutes that he might somehow end up with her.
But what would she do with a hardened warrior, really?
That’s what he was, she thought, but nobody else around here seemed to see it. They were all fixated on what he could do for them, but Grace had seen the awful guilt, the pain, that had flashed across his handsome, chiseled face when he had been asked how many men he had killed.
It pained her to think of what he must live with, the burdens he must carry, even if he was only her friend, or neighbor, or whatever he was to her.
Surely he would rather marry someone who could not see into his secrets but took his adventure tales at face value and let him play the idle gentleman-architect, as he preferred.
Once more tamping down any foolish notions of winning him for herself, as if she’d want him, Grace went and joined the other ladies at tea, and before long, the gentleman entered the room.
Then it was time for the evening’s entertainment, which chiefly consisted of admiring Calpurnia’s accomplishments.
Of these, she had many. Everyone gathered around to hear the young belle of the county charm their ears with her repertoire of songs. Mrs. Bowen-Hill played the pianoforte for their songstress, as she often did. Indeed, the good doctor’s wife often volunteered of a Sunday to play the organ in church.
Grace listened from the back of the room, leaning against the wall. She looked over warily as Lord Trevor sauntered over and joined her, lowering his head to whisper in her ear so as not to disrupt the musical performance.
“Pardon me, Miss Kenwood, but if Miss Windlesham ever finishes singing, I was wondering if we might be treated to a second performance of your acting skills.”
She fought a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmured. “What about your talents as a storyteller? Will we
get another chance to hear more?”
“Not if I can help it,” he replied, smiling in amusement.
“Those stories of yours were marvelous—but rather well rehearsed.”
“I save them for special occasions.”
“Ah. State secrets or cock-and-bull tales?”
“A little of both.”
“I notice you didn’t mention the one you told me, about blowing up the Spanish church.”
“Accidentally,” he reminded her with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that made her knees go weak.
“Accidentally, of course,” she conceded, slipping him an arch smile in answer.
He nodded toward the room. “I wanted to thank you for that. Back there.”
“Nonsense. They had no right to ask you such appalling questions. Calpurnia’s just young. She doesn’t understand. I hope you won’t hold it against her.”
“For your sake, I won’t.”
She wasn’t sure how to take that, or his steady, searching gaze.
She swallowed hard. “As for Lady Stokes, you’ll just have to get used to her. She and her husband both love shocking people. Still, to bring up such topics. ’Twas altogether barbarous.”
“I get those questions all the time, actually.”
“Really? I had no idea people were so rude. Well, you shouldn’t have to answer.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t have to, or I fear I’d have set the whole table to choking.”
So many? She glanced at him in surprise.
He gazed into her eyes with a complicated mix of emotions in his own. Because the answer was there, nakedly, no longer in disguise.
Yes. That many.
She wasn’t sure what to say.
Years of sitting in her father’s church had the words “Thou shalt not kill” and “Blessed are the peacemakers” positively ringing in her ears.
“Well”—she finally managed a hesitant word of comfort—“I’m sure you were only doing your duty.”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure if you’d see it that way after what you said about soldiers. Or maybe now you’re just being kind?”
She stared at him as it fully sank in: His face, those fierce gray eyes, had been the last image some men had seen on this earth.
Her gaze trailed down to the strong, elegant fingers idly hefting his brandy snifter. Fingers that could pull the trigger when the moment came. Hands trained to wield a knife.
She trembled and edged away from him a bit, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t help it.
He cast her a wan, knowing smile. “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured in a velvet tone. “I told you that the night we met.”
Grace swallowed hard, her heart pounding. The last thing she needed reminding of right now was the kiss they had shared in that darkened room. God, she wanted him.
She looked away, wishing he would get away from her and go back to playing the nice guest.
Instead, he was ever so subtly seducing her while Calpurnia warbled on.
“How was your trip?” she forced out, changing the subject and cringing to feel the flames in her cheeks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming back.”
“Why? I just bought a house here, didn’t I?”
“I thought you were regretting it.” She hesitated. “Because of me.”
“Ah, you won’t get rid of me that easily. Did I miss anything exciting while I was gone?”
“Farmer Curtis’s cow got out of the pasture with her calf. High drama.”
“I can’t believe I missed it!”
Grace could not look away as she and the man Lady Windlesham had branded as Calpurnia’s future husband stood gazing at each other.
It took a moment for her to find her voice. “Did you accomplish what you set out to do?”
“Hmm?”
She braced herself. “Did you reconcile with your lady?”
“My lady?” he echoed, furrowing his brow.
“The woman you had planned to marry.”
“Oh, that’s not where I went,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
She nearly coughed with shock. “It’s not?”
“No, no, all that’s over. I went to see my gambling friend in jail.”
“Your friend?”
“Yes. You were right, Miss Kenwood. It was better to make peace. We’ve been like brothers for too long for me to go on holding a grudge against him. What’s done is done.”
She stared at him in astonishment.
“Is something the matter?”
“I thought—I thought you were getting back together with your fiancée!”
“She wishes,” he said flatly.
“But—I was half-certain you’d be bringing her back to the Grange with you!”
He laughed. “Laura Bayne at the Grange? No. Not in a million years. My dear, she wouldn’t last a day. All that is over between us, and frankly, I am glad. Nick was right about that much—my friend in jail,” he explained. “Laura would have made me a most unhappy man.” He glanced over at Calpurnia and added, “Believe you me, I don’t intend to make that mistake twice.”
He looked at her again, as if to make sure she got the point.
Grace gulped, staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I see,” she said faintly after a moment though she didn’t, and in fact was very sure she was mistaken.
He couldn’t be talking about . . . her?
Half-strangled with awkwardness and suddenly struck with dread at the prospect of Lady Windlesham’s wrath if she ruined this match, too, Grace cleared her throat. “Calpurnia sings beautifully, does she not?”
“An admirable singer,” he replied with a gentlemanly nod, then they both redirected their attention to their host’s daughter for a moment.
Grace sneaked a sideways glance at the tall, dark man beside her and had to stifle an idiotic sigh at the nobility of his profile.
“Miss Kenwood,” he remarked, keeping his voice low as he continued staring straight ahead. “It is very important to me that you realize I have no ill intentions toward your friend Marianne. I don’t want you to think–”
“I’m sure it’s none of my business,” she interrupted hotly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“But it is. You were right on that point, too. Marianne depends on you; as for her, I daresay there is more to her than meets the eye. She’s got a strength about her.”
“Yes. She’s had to endure a lot. It’s made her tough.”
“She told me what a tremendous help you’ve been to her. She calls you her guardian angel, did you know that?”
Grace lowered her head with a smile.
“I’d never jeopardize Marianne’s progress or ruin all your work. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Oh—well—thank you.” She was so out of sorts at his admiring gaze that she attempted to defuse the charged atmosphere between them with humor once again. “Of course, you should never mention ‘that woman’ by name around here. She is persona non grata with the Windleshams. And naturally, I am to blame for it,” she added, “since I’m the one who brought her to Thistleton. They blame me equally with her for breaking up Callie’s match with the son of the Marquess of Lievedon.”
“Young Brentford?”
She nodded.
“Hmm, too bad. They seem a good match. By the way, how are the little intruders?” he asked before she could quite interpret his idle remark about Callie and George. “I’ve been wondering if the one who fell in the river took ill later from his dowsing. That water was very cold.”
“It’s kind of you to ask, but no worries, Denny’s just fine.”
“Denny, eh? You never did tell me their names.”
“Kenny and Denny Nelcott.”
“I’m sorry about their father. It must be very difficult f
or them.”
“Indeed. Mrs. Nelcott has four children: the twins; Bitsy, the little girl you gave the flower to; and an eighteen-month-old baby at home.”
“And no husband to support them all?” He shook his head. “That is hard.”
She nodded in regret.
“I have a thought,” he said after a moment as the song ended, and they all applauded Calpurnia, who curtsied like the picture of demure eligibility.
“What’s that?” Grace asked.
“Why don’t you send the boys over to the Grange tomorrow afternoon? I could use a couple of assistants. I’ll give them some chores so they might earn a few coins to help their mother. And learn a little discipline,” he added pointedly. “Unless, of course, they are too scared of me now, after I yelled at them—”
“Scared of you? I hardly think so. Those two aren’t scared of anything. That’s half the problem with the pair of little savages. As for you, sir, you might be interested to know you went from being an invading ogre to a knight-errant in their eyes when you saved Denny’s life—which, by the way, I never did get to say thank you for that. I can’t imagine what his mother would have done if she had lost her son so soon after her husband.”
His eyes glowed with modest pleasure at her praise. “Glad to be of service.” Then he nodded. “If Mrs. Nelcott gives her boys permission, send them over to me, and I’ll have them help me with some simple tasks.”
“No sharp objects, I assume? And by the way, make sure your weapons are locked up. I know you had just moved in and hardly started unpacking, and you certainly weren’t expecting to have your house broken into by a pair of mischievous nine-year-olds, but I don’t want them getting hold of any dangerous weapons—”
“Consider it done,” he said firmly.
“Very well, then. I’ll bring them over myself to do the introductions. Believe it or not, they can get very shy around grown-ups.”
“If I get to see you, that’s all the better.” He gave her an arch look askance. “So, we are friends again, then?”
“Indeed,” she answered heartily.
“Excellent.” He lifted his glass to clink it against hers, his eyes aglow. “Miss Kenwood.” He sketched a polite bow. “I’d better take my leave of you before we start a scandal.”
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