“My lord,” she fairly purred, and when he sauntered off to mingle with the other guests, Grace couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Chapter 16
“Now, remember,” Grace said to Kenny and Denny the next morning. “You’re not going over there to play, so no misbehaving. If you do a good job, you’ll earn a little money to buy something nice, and your mother will be proud.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.
“Good, then! Into the carriage with you now. Quickly. One should never be late to work.”
The twins raced across the drive and went leaping up onto her carriage like a pair of small highwaymen springing up onto their mark. She raised her eyebrows, startled at how eager the boys were to start their first day of gainful employment.
She followed them into the carriage and picked up the reins, wondering what sort of chores Lord Trevor had in mind for his two small helpers this day.
As she had expected, the twins who had started out so boisterously from the parsonage grew shy the closer they drew to their destination.
By the time they reached the Grange, the pair were silent, wide-eyed, and uncertain. They always drifted closer together whenever they were nervous; presently, they were shoulder to shoulder.
Grace herded her passengers down from the carriage as the master of the place walked out of the old farmhouse, wiping his hands on a rag.
The grin he flashed at them dazzled her like the morning sun. “Thank goodness, help has arrived! I sure need it.” He smiled broadly to put the boys at ease.
“I know,” Grace answered encouragingly, “you’d be very lonely working here today all by yourself, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I have a lot of work to do. Man’s work,” he added with a stalwart glance at the twins. “I trust you gentlemen have brought your muscles?”
The scrawny nine-year-olds assured him that they had, and preceded to flex their arms to see which of them had the bigger biceps. Grace rolled her eyes in amusement and shook her head. Trevor met her glance, his eyes twinkling.
“So what will you have them doing today?” she inquired.
“I’ve got to clear a space for the delivery I have coming tomorrow. My men are bringing timber and other materials on the canal boats. They need to be stored out of the weather, or the wood will rot, and the tools will rust, and we can’t have that, can we, boys?”
“No, sir!” the twins agreed.
Then he showed all of them into the house. Grace glanced around as Lord Trevor pointed out the cluttered area in a corner of the old ballroom, where junk would have to be cleared away to make room for the building supplies.
“A simple matter of moving this stuff from here to there,” he explained.
“Make sure they don’t try to pick up anything too heavy for a child,” she warned. “Don’t let them hurt themselves.”
“Honestly, Miss Kenwood, I’m not entirely ignorant of how to manage children. I was a boy once myself, as it happens. Though I will take any tips you care to give me on what to do if they start acting like the little monsters I originally met.”
“Oh, they won’t, believe me. But if they do”—she gave the boys a warning stare—“let me know, Lord Trevor, and I will deal with them myself, hm?”
The twins edged back from her a little, as though she were a witch with a cauldron easily big enough to fit two small, naughty boys. “Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said.
Lord Trevor was trying to conceal his smile of amusement behind his hand when Grace turned to him. “They’re all yours.”
He clapped his hands briskly. “Come, men! Let’s get started. The morning’s wasting. We’ve got much work to accomplish before sundown.”
“Sundown?” Grace exclaimed. “My dear fellow, you do realize they are nine? I’m coming back for them in two, three hours at the most.”
“Oh! Right. Of course. That’s plenty of work for two small boys, you’re quite right, Miss Kenwood. We’ll see how much we can get done before you return. Unless you care to join us? I pay well,” he teased.
“Not on your life,” she said with a chuckle. “I have enough chores of my own to do today.”
“Like what?” he asked as he followed her back out to her carriage.
“I always make my poor calls on Mondays and visiting the sick.”
“Admirable.”
“Not really,” she said, as he handed her up onto the driver’s seat. “You had your duty; I have mine. Have fun. And above all, remember,” she teased him in a whisper, “never show fear.”
“Begone, woman. You’re scaring me.”
“Good-bye, boys!” Grace waved to them as they emerged from the house. “I’ll want to hear all about your morning when I come back to fetch you.”
“Bye, Miss Grace!” Kenny waved back, but Denny was instantly absorbed in trying to catch a grasshopper.
Grace was still smiling when she was home in her kitchen, helping Cook to make the soup and bake the fresh rolls for the poor.
As she went through her list of items that various families had donated for the parish poor: extra blankets, a coat, two pairs of still-usable old shoes, and tonics and medicines contributed by the Bowen-Hills.
It felt good in a way she could not put into words to know that Lord Trevor was just across the way, working with the children.
If only she had Calpurnia’s opera glasses! She would have loved to catch a glimpse of him and his assistants to see how they were faring.
At that moment, as if the mere thought had conjured her, the debutante herself came barreling up the drive once more in her pony gig.
Grace paused at the window, surprised to see the carriage clattering up in front of the parsonage. What now? With the unpredictable Callie, it was always impossible to guess.
Moments later, the eighteen-year-old came whooshing in, her usual whirlwind self, all bouncing golden curls and rosy cheeks. “Oh, Grace, isn’t he divine? I had to see you!”
“My dear, what’s going on? You seem all at sixes and sevens. Is something wrong?”
“No, Grace, everything’s wonderful!” she said breathlessly. “It’s just that I’m so desperately in love!”
She blinked. “What?”
“Wasn’t last night wonderful?” Callie twirled into the parlor. “I never met a finer man! Do you think he likes me, too? I mean, could you tell? I couldn’t tell—but then, his being a spy and all, you know, I’m sure he must be awfully good at hiding his feelings. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, probably . . .” she mumbled in shock.
“Exactly! That’s just what I suspected! With other gentlemen, not so—but with a former spy, well, just because he didn’t really give a sign he likes me doesn’t mean he isn’t interested. Did he say anything to you? I saw you talking to him in the back of the room while I was singing. I didn’t mind, as long as he said something nice about me?”
“Um, he said you sing very well.”
“Oh, la! Anything else?”
“I, er, no—nothing, to my recollection.”
Callie grasped Grace’s hands and sighed, leading her into the window seat. “Mother and I are in earnest agreement that he’s simply perfect! Well, of course, Mother doesn’t like his hair, but that is easily remedied. Personally, I rather like it—but it does not signify. The important thing is, I’ve found my one true love!”
Good heavens.
Grace was routed. “Are you . . . very sure of that?” she asked gingerly.
This was all much worse than she had imagined.
Callie waved off the question. “Is anyone ever really sure, in matters of the heart? I thought I loved George, too, but . . . well. Never mind him.” She looked away at the thought of her former suitor, then brushed off his memory and grabbed Grace by the wrist. “Come, let’s go spy on him ag
ain! I brought by opera glasses!”
The girl proceeded to drag her outside onto the terrace, but when this did not afford a clear view, Callie cajoled her back inside and up onto the landing of the stairs to look out the window there.
“Who’s there with him? The Nelcott twins? They’re carrying crates or something . . .”
Grace was forced to explain the whole story. Meanwhile, she was mortified as Callie continued peering through the trees, waiting to catch whatever glimpse she could of their new neighbor.
“You better hope he doesn’t see you,” Grace advised, folding her arms across her bosom.
“How could he see me? We’re too far away.”
“I should think spies are trained to sense when someone’s watching them.”
“Well, he should take it as a compliment,” she declared. “Even Father says we’ll make a very handsome couple. And Grace, I’m so grateful to you!” Callie tore herself away from spying on Lord Trevor, turning earnestly to her. “Mother told me how you promised to help make Lord Trevor fall in love with me.”
“What? Good Lord, Callie, I never promised anything like that!”
“You didn’t?”
“No! Whether or not he falls in love with you, that is entirely up to him, not to me!”
“Oh, of course! That’s not what I meant.” Her cheeks colored a bit with a rare glow of embarrassment. “I know a gentleman can’t be forced to fall in love. Obviously! All I meant was that I appreciate your agreeing to chaperone me around him. Now we just have to come up with a few ways that we can be together,” she finished, beaming anew.
Grace stared at her in dismay.
It was hard to be angry with Calpurnia when she looked like a wayward angel late for choir practice, tousled and golden, with her sky blue eyes full of hopeful innocence.
On the other hand, it was impossible not to be angry with the chit, for always thinking only of herself.
But with such a mother, where would she have left it?
“Dearest,” she said at length, striving for patience as she took her young friend gently by the arm and steered her away from the window. “As you are aware, Lord Trevor has suffered a recent heartbreak.”
“I know. It’s so sad! But frankly, I’m happy. Is that wrong? What an idiot that woman is for letting him slip through her fingers!”
Grace ignored all this. “My point is, you must take it slowly. After what happened, I doubt that he will be ready to begin a new romance for quite some time.”
“Ohh. I see.”
With any luck, Callie would lose interest within a few weeks.
“I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to go throwing myself at him, like you said. First, we must be friends.” Callie lifted her eyebrows in question, as though waiting for Grace to approve this strategy.
As if a spinster of five-and-twenty knew the first thing about snaring an eligible man.
Nevertheless, Grace patted her hand. “I think that’s very wise.” In truth, her main concern was shielding Lord Trevor from being shoved into something he obviously didn’t want.
Or so she told herself.
Far be it from the pastor’s daughter ever to do or say something absolutely selfish.
She coaxed Callie back to the kitchen with a promise of one of the rolls she had just finished baking, along with sweet strawberry jam.
But as the clock ticked on, she could delay no more. She wiped her hands on her house apron, untied it behind her back, then took it off and hung it on the door peg. “I’m afraid I have to go.”
“To fetch the twins?” Callie leaped out of her chair. “I’m coming with you!”
“Calpurnia,” she started, but it was no use.
The baron’s daughter refused to be denied. “You can’t leave me out of this, Grace! It’s the perfect opportunity for me to see him again, however briefly. Please, don’t be cruel. You don’t understand how much I love him!”
“Oh, Lud.”
“Please, please, let me come with you—”
“Hush, girl! There is no need to whine. I’ll make you a bargain. Come with me on my poor calls today—”
“Grace!” she protested.
“I have a lot to carry!”
“But it’s so depressing!”
“I know. Believe me! That’s why I’d like you to come along. You’re very good at being cheerful when you choose. Wouldn’t it be nice to brighten up the day for these poor, unfortunate souls?”
“But they smell.”
“I wonder if a brave, gallant war hero like Lord Trevor Montgomery would ever marry a girl who doesn’t care about the poor.”
Callie heaved a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes. “Very well.”
Grace laughed at her air of martyrdom. “The things we do for love! Now help me load my carriage.”
Having the boys’ help turned out to cost instead of save time, but Trevor did not particularly mind. The high-spirited lads were two of the most amusing individuals he had met in many years. They regaled him with tall tales, pausing often to act out the high points of their stories in the process of carrying clutter from point A to point B.
In addition, they were happy to share their opinions on a wide range of topics.
Including their Sunday school teacher, which greatly took his interest.
“She’s the best lady ever,” Kenny–or was it Denny?—informed him.
Trevor still couldn’t tell them apart.
“Why’s that?”
“She knows how to do everything. She never forgets our birthday. And she makes good biscuits.”
“Herself?” he asked in surprise, but he never got an answer, for he was suddenly under interrogation.
“Why do you want to know about Miss Grace?” Denny demanded, eyeing him in suspicion, while Trevor was still trying to imagine Laura baking anything. ’Twas impossible. And if she had, it likely would have been inedible.
“Do you like her or something?” the boy persisted.
“Of course I like her,” he said casually, fighting back a sneeze as he hefted another dusty old trunk up onto his shoulder and carried it to the other end of the room.
Meanwhile, to his surprise, the twins went slightly insane at his admission, running around in circles, whooping and howling like feral children raised by wolves.
He set the trunk down and looked at them in wonder.
They stopped, one on either side of him. Denny folded his arms across his chest, and Kenny followed suit.
“What are your attentions on our teacher, sir?”
“Pardon?”
“What are your attentions to Miss Grace?”
“My intentions?” he asked abruptly, then laughed. “Where did you learn that expression?”
“We know things,” Kenny said sagely.
“Miss Grace told Miss Windlesham when she was crying that a gentl’man has to declare his attentions toward a lady.”
“But they weren’t talking about you. They were talking about Lord Brentford.”
“You know Lord Brentford?” Trevor asked.
“Of course. He’s a jolly fellow!”
“So I hear,” Trevor murmured.
“Everybody’s mad at him, except for us.”
“And Miss Grace. She never gets mad at anyone.”
“Oh, she gets mad at me,” he assured them.
“Are you sure she ain’t just pretending? She makes a face when she wants you to think she’s cross, but she’s really not. Like this.” He screwed up his face into a scowl. His brother joined the effort in imitating Grace.
Trevor eyed them in amusement. “I’ll remember that. But I’m pretty sure she meant it when she got mad at me. Believe me, I won’t risk that again.”
“Why not? Do you love her?” they teased.
“Are
you goin’ to marry and have babies?”
“Good God!” Trevor said.
They laughed uproariously, and Kenny added, “Babies smell!”
“Because they poop on everything!”
“Enough! No one wants to hear that kind of talk,” he scolded, but thankfully, they were interrupted by the sound of a carriage arriving outside. “There’s Miss Kenwood now,” he said in relief. “And you’d better not let her hear you talk like that. Come on.”
They followed him outside. Trevor hoped that soon, once he was rid of the pair, he might actually be able to get something done.
But admittedly, the boys had not been too great a bother. He had rather enjoyed the change of pace.
“Now, listen,” he murmured as her carriage neared. “You two had better not say anything silly about me to her, or I’ll hang you off the chandeliers by your suspenders and leave you dangling there. Got it?”
They grinned at his threat.
“Do you think she’ll bring some biscuits after all our work?” Kenny said.
“What work?” Trevor muttered.
“I’ll bet she does!” Denny replied.
Then Trevor smiled broadly as the lady drove up to the house in her father’s work wagon; he raised a brow, however, when he spotted Calpurnia Windlesham following Grace’s lumbering cart in her jaunty pony gig. With her bonnet ribbons trailing gaily in the breeze, Miss Windlesham waved to him as if she had learned the gesture from the royals. “Oh, Lord,” he said under his breath.
Then he went to help Grace down from her carriage.
“Well, how did we do?” she asked, gathering her skirts in one hand as she accepted his help in climbing down.
“Did you bring biscuits?” Kenny cried.
“Subtle,” Trevor drawled to his young assistant.
“ ’Course I did. Hard work deserves to be rewarded,” she declared as she pulled back the cloth covering her basket and revealed freshly baked biscuits.
She picked one out for Denny, then paused before rewarding him and glanced at Trevor. “Any misbehavior to report, my lord?”
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