“Welcome, Miss Wood.” Grant’s eyes caught hers and his lips parted as if he were going to say something, but he hesitated, his eyes and facial expression her only clues that he too was pleased with the scene. “You look perfectly resplendent,” he whispered almost breathlessly, and then he bowed slightly over her hand before letting go.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she breathed in the clean, woodsy scent of him, trying to center her thoughts. Everything about the evening was magic. “Thank you.” She inclined her head in appreciation. “You look rather dashing yourself.”
He smiled his response before he helped her father out of the limo as well, this time grabbing the older man’s elbow when he lost his balance, and smoothly acting as if nothing was amiss.
Grant nodded a thank-you to the two footmen who opened the ornate doors for them. Inside, the modern-style home had been softened with white lights and more flowers than Lily and Rose probably sold in a month. A string quartet played soft music in the background, and caterers fussed with the perfectly set-up table.
“As our first guests, you get your choice of the best seats in the house.” Grant paused in the foyer, and Emily took in the room.
Seeing the home dressed up in its ballroom finery added a fairy-tale patina to the natural grandness. Off the foyer under a suspended staircase, a huge area opened up with room for dancing, areas for conversation, and plenty of food and drinks laid out for refreshment between sets. Candelabras and glittering lanterns lit the space in flickering warmth, paired with greenery and linens and the scents of citrus and vanilla.
“It looks fantastic.” An understatement, but words failed Emily.
“I’ll be sure to pass the compliment on to Annalise.” Grant led them through the widest of the spaces to the coziest of the sitting areas.
“Okay, son, I need the story about this.” Emily’s dad raised his walking stick to point out the wall that was entirely natural rock. “There’s got to be one.”
Grant ushered him to a comfortable chair by the crackling fire built into a cavern, and then perched on the hearth. He ran a hand over the texture of the rock, and even without feeling it herself, Emily could imagine the cool roughness.
“I don’t know how it came to me, but I do know when.” Grant shook his head. “One minute, I was looking at the lot, thinking no one in their right mind would want it with the steepness of the property and the spring flooding everything, and the next minute, I was having my architect draw up plans to build nature into the structure. It was this little cavity in the rock.” He nodded to the small opening that had been turned into the perfect fireplace.
“Is it vented?” Mr. Wood eyed the fireplace suspiciously. “Smoke can damage lungs, and with all the dancing my daughter tells me will be going on tonight—”
“Dad,” Emily warned.
Her father glared back at her, and she smiled. Her poor father, always convinced everyone was one nasty cold, one breath away from dying. Of course, she understood. She had her own issues surrounding her mother’s untimely death.
“It is,” Grant said to answer his question about the fireplace. “The architect is an engineering wiz. I told him I wanted to feel like I was in the woods, have the fireplace in the cave and the water beneath my feet, and he did the rest.”
It really was impressive. The rock cliff rose above the fireplace a good thirty feet or more. Where the rock ended, glass walls fitted exactly into the uneven surface of the strata, leaving the view to the lake unhindered by construction. Trees and underbrush stood so close to the glass it gave the impression that the trio of partygoers were outside without protection from the elements, though the temperature and lighting were gloriously comfortable.
“Ah, you’re here.” Annalise glided into the room in a burgundy gown and gave Emily a quick hug.
Emily barely had time to compliment Annalise on the decorations before someone on the staff sidled up with questions.
“Duty calls.” Annalise waved her fingers at them before turning away.
Guests were trickling in, and by the way Grant’s eyes kept straying to the door and shifting his weight, he was itching to greet them.
She wrapped a hand lightly around his bicep, ignoring the tingle as she leaned in. “Don’t forget the reason for the ball.”
“To mingle?” He raised an eyebrow.
“To dance.” She raised her own. “Stay focused. Your escape mansion launch is only a few weeks away. Be looking for someone, or I will be doing it for you.”
Grant’s eyes danced as if holding back a snarky retort. “Thanks for the warning.” He laid a hand over hers, and she couldn’t breathe until he pulled it away again and left her with her father.
“Are you comfortable, Dad?” She watched Grant welcome a few couples she didn’t know. They had to be Mountain Cove residents.
“Perfectly comfortable.” He waved her off. “I’ve got my seat here by the fire. I’ll be just fine, as long as it doesn’t get too hot. You don’t think it will, do you, my dear?”
“I’m sure we could move you to another seat if you get too warm.” The room was filling with guests, many of whom she recognized, the rest of whom Grant did. Hattie stepped through the foyer and stared, wide-eyed and lost. “If you’re sure you’re okay—”
“Go.” Mr. Wood smiled at his daughter and squeezed her hand. “Enjoy yourself, my dear.”
Emily cocked her head at him. “But not too much, right? Because my dad’s watching.”
“Just don’t forget to dance with Grant.” Her father’s insistence surprised her.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and made her way over to Hattie.
“You look so good!” Emily squealed when she met Hattie with a hug. “Did you do your hair yourself?” Hattie’s frizz had been tamed into smooth ringlets in the front and a simple updo with the feathers from Le Chapeau in the back.
Hattie sighed and then giggled. “No. I tried, but I just couldn’t get it right.” She wrinkled her nose. “I had to call Martin’s sister, Elizabeth. She’s a hairdresser, remember?” Hattie twirled one of the ringlets with nervous fingers.
“It looks great.”
Hattie blushed. “Thank you.” She stepped back to survey Emily. “Ever was right—that’s the perfect dress for you.”
Emily dismissed the compliment with a simple thanks, and got Hattie discussing everything else—the guests, the costumes, the excitement, the possibilities.
“I’m going to dance with every man in the room.” Hattie giggled.
“An admirable goal,” Emily answered, distracted by Grant across the room. Who was he talking to? “Though you don’t want to discourage that special someone by being too popular.”
“Oh. You’re right,” Hattie conceded.
Instead, they spent the evening going from group to group, talking to the various guests, with Hattie’s head on a swivel, looking for Elton. With Hattie preoccupied searching for her man, Emily convinced herself that it was part of her job to track the women Grant showed interest in—which so far was a big fat zero. He hadn’t danced even once.
An hour into the ball, Hattie took Emily by the shoulders and turned her away from the crowd. “Do you think this means Martin isn’t going to show up?” Her voice was thick with emotion, and her eyes sparkled in the low light.
Hattie had been looking for him? But in what way? Did she want him there, or was she assuming he’d come because he’d been invited, and she was trying to avoid him? Emily’s stomach knotted with concern. The sparkle in Hattie’s eyes threatened to burst into tears like the waterfall over the bluff.
Looking desperately for a distraction, Emily saw one—a gentleman headed straight toward them. It took a moment for her to place the security guard without his typical uniform, the Regency costume doing him no favors. The timing might not be right, but it was what it was. “Elton’s coming.”
Hattie squealed, a little squeak that drew attention their way. “What do I say?”
Emily didn’t get a chance to an
swer.
“Miss Emily Wood,” Elton said with a clunky bow. At least he was trying to do the whole Regency thing, even if it did read awkward. He snagged Emily’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles in an overly formal, sickeningly wet kiss.
Emily snatched her hand back, pushing down her revulsion. “Good evening, Elton.” She curtsied. “Did Grant finally give you a break?” At his name, Grant looked over from the couple he was currently talking to and winked. Her insides went aflutter, and it took a moment for her mind to come back to the conversation at hand. “Do you have time for a dance?” she asked.
Elton’s eyes lit up in anticipation.
“Hattie’s amazing. She took classes to learn all the period dances.”
Across the room, Finn walked in from the foyer. Where had he been all evening?
Elton’s scowl answered before his words did. “I’m sorry, Emily, I’m afraid I don’t have time for more than one dance. Will you?” He extended his palm for Emily’s hand.
She blinked in confusion. He hadn’t even looked at Hattie yet. “Oh, but if you only have time for one—” Emily pulled Hattie toward her, tucking into her shoulder. The sudden proximity of their faces forced Elton to take in both women at once. “I just don’t want you to regret not taking the opportunity when you have it.”
“I quite agree.” His eyes were on Emily with such intensity, her stomach dropped.
His intentions were so clear right now, she must have misread something along the way over the past month, but how? Couldn’t everything be traced back to a conversation about Hattie Smith and his interest in her? She couldn’t remember anymore.
“I would regret it very much if I didn’t dance with you, Miss Wood.”
“But . . . what—what about Hattie?” Emily stammered even as her friend shrugged out of her grasp. The room was growing uncomfortable, the air thick and stifling around them. Emily fanned her face with her hand and wished she could escape onto the balcony.
“I— Surely you must know . . .” He didn’t finish the statement. His eyes roved across Emily’s face and body, and told her more than she wanted to know.
Hattie’s face blanched and her lips quivered. A second later, she ran away from the group, cutting through the dance floor, and threw open the French doors to the balcony with a bang.
What have I done? Emily felt ill—too hot, sick to her stomach, confused at what had just happened, and there were too many eyes on her. I’m such an idiot.
Her face aflame, she turned to Elton, trying to string together the words to let him down easily, but the shock robbed her of the capacity to speak. “I’m—” Hattie’s feelings were more important than anything else right now. “I’m sorry, Elton.” She grabbed his forearm, her eyes begging for him to understand. “I didn’t mean—”
She didn’t have time for this. She couldn’t leave Hattie alone with this right now. She let go of Elton’s arm and flew out to the patio to console her friend. She’d have to find a way to smooth things over with him later.
When she reached Hattie at the balcony railing, Emily dropped her hands onto the cool metal and exhaled, her brain simultaneously dizzy and seeing clearly for the first time in weeks.
“I’m so, so sorry.” Emily’s heart hurt for her friend. Why had she pushed this? If she’d allowed things to grow organically between Hattie and Elton . . . but she’d been so convinced they would be great together. “I read that whole situation wrong.”
At her side, Hattie held her silence. Coming from her chatty friend, this was more of a chastisement than hurling accusations. Needing to see her expression, Emily turned to face her, but Hattie stared straight ahead at the inky depths of the lake beyond. Hattie wasn’t crying, but the quivering lip made it plain that if Emily said the wrong thing, the dam to her emotions would overflow.
Emily turned the rest of the way around and leaned against the railing, taking in the throng of dancers. Despite his protestations that Emily was the only one for him, Elton was dancing. His partner was the all-too-perfect Jaden Fairbanks. When had she come in? She hadn’t arrived in the limo Grant had sent to collect her aunt and grandmother.
Catching her eye, Finn came bounding through the door. “Emily!” His cheerfulness would have been welcome if the timing hadn’t been so bad. “You owe me a dance, remember?”
Emily gave a wan smile, but she wasn’t going to leave Hattie. “Not my fault you haven’t had one before this. You’re the one who’s late.” She quirked an eyebrow at him in silent inquisition. Then she cut her eyes toward the depressed Hattie. “Later? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Please.” Hattie’s voice was fragile, so brittle Emily would do whatever she asked. “Go. Dance with him. I need a moment to myself.” The request was spoken gently, and Emily hesitated.
Finn tugged on her hand. “I’ve got a story to tell.” He was already shaking his head, in full storytelling mode. “This town is crazy, you know that, right? But even you won’t believe what I saw today.”
She shook off his hand, determined to stay. “In a minute?”
Finn nodded and backed away.
“Can I get you some water?”
In answer to Emily’s question, Hattie shook her head.
“How about a walk?”
Hattie took a determined breath and turned to Emily. All traces of tears were gone. “I’m all right. I really am.” Emily searched Hattie’s eyes and saw nothing but determination. “One thing I think would help is if you go back in there and dance with Finn. Show everyone things are fine, and they will be. I want to stay here a little bit longer until I feel the magic of the evening again, but it’ll only be a few minutes.”
Emily hesitated.
“Please. I mean it this time.”
“Okay, then.” Emily walked across the patio. When she opened the French doors again, she forced a smile for her friend and for the sake of the other guests. She didn’t need to rain on anyone else’s party.
Finn snatched Emily away as soon as she stepped back inside. He led, and she trailed behind him, trying to capture a bit of the joy she’d felt earlier. As they walked, he shared his story, so excited, she didn’t want to tell him she didn’t catch any of it over the music. He finished his story as he twirled her into position for the next dance, and the pressure for speaking was gone.
She tried to enjoy the dance, truly—how often would she get the opportunity to dance a country dance like this in her lifetime? When they finished, Finn guided them to a server with a tray of sparkling cider. They each grabbed a flute and took sips. What she wouldn’t give for a gulp of good old-fashioned water right about now. Subdued, she studied Finn over the rim of her glass. He looked good—better than usual dressed up, of course—but until she thought about it just now, she’d hardly noticed. What happened to the attraction she’d felt before? What about when he’d touched her hand while dancing? Not a tingle or butterfly in sight.
“Should we sit?” She nodded toward the living room with its crackling fire, where Hattie chatted away with Miss Bates and Jaden as Emily’s father napped, slumped in his chair.
Finn agreed, and the two started around the dance floor. They talked about biking, upcoming events in town, and other such randomness, taking their time to their destination.
“Ooh. Let me grab one of these—” Finn stopped a server to snag a few appetizers.
By the time they turned around again, Grant beat them into the sitting room, greeted everyone, and reached a hand out to Hattie.
The man seriously confused Emily. He’d talked to everyone at the party, including several single women, but this was the first time he’d made it onto the dance floor. As the couples passed each other, Emily nodded her thanks to Grant. Whatever had convinced him to ask her to dance, Hattie had the biggest smile she’d had all night.
Still trying to wrap her head around this turn of events, Emily caught a look between Jaden and Finn. Immediately after, Finn stopped her from continuing to the fireplac
e. “It’s looking a little crowded in there. How about another dance?” A flirty smile slipped up one cheek, a dimple on the other.
A few dances later, as the evening wound down and the guests began to leave, Grant appeared at Emily’s side. After her dance with Grant, Hattie had cheered up, never once bringing up Elton again, and now Finn was regaling both women with stories he’d heard about Jaden when she’d worked as a music teacher.
“Miss Bates told me the students absolutely adored her, but I heard one of them filled the piano bench with bullfrogs. While she was playing, she kept hearing muffled croaks but couldn’t figure out where the sound was coming from. Every time she stopped playing to listen, the frogs stopped croaking. It was as if they were singing along with the music.” Finn chuckled to his own story. “She finally decided to check the bench and about fell on the floor when she opened it and found six fat frogs blinking back at her!”
Hattie threw back her head, laughing so hard and so loud, she snorted, which got Finn laughing harder than ever.
“I hate to take you from your friends.” Grant leaned in to whisper to Emily under the raucous laughter, his breath tickling her neck. “Will you dance with me before the quartet packs up?”
At his closeness, that side of her body broke out in happy goose bumps. When he added the word “please,” Emily’s knees almost buckled. Not trusting herself to answer without giving away her feelings, she slipped her fingers into his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
“How was your first Regency ball?” Grant asked. “Is the matchmaker satisfied?”
The shock of the question and the use of the word broke through the growing fantasy Emily had started entertaining. Matchmaker. She was the matchmaker. For him.
“That depends,” she said as brightly as she could. “Did you find your match?”
Grant’s hazel eyes twinkled as he looked into hers for a brief moment. “I think so.”
He twirled her, all her happiness spinning out, and sadness taking its place. Grant’s heart was taken, or at least well on its way. The evening had been a success—and a failure.
The Matchmaker's Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 2) Page 12