Then she caught it—that hint of how disturbed he was by their near kiss. It was in the slight tint of color in his face, in how he avoided meeting her gaze.
Hurt rolled through her, followed closely by a healthy dose of embarrassment. How thoughtless of her. How could she have forgotten for even a moment that he was engaged? It was completely inappropriate for her to encourage him to kiss her. Not only inappropriate but wrong. She had no desire to be the other woman. She must’ve imagined the desire in his eyes.
She’d projected her own feelings onto him. Heat tingled in her cheeks as she realized she’d practically thrown herself at him. If only the ground would open and swallow her whole.
Tristan was going out of his way to act as though the awkward situation had never occurred. His reaction to her behavior proved how truly honorable he was. Most men would be more than happy to dally with a widow while planning their wedding to someone else.
But not Tristan.
She drew a quick breath, determined to take the option he offered of trying to forget what had just happened. If she wasn’t more careful, she’d lose him as a friend. That would never do.
Pushing aside her humiliation, she pasted on a bright smile. “You must sit in it. I chose it for how it felt in addition to the color.”
Grace nearly cringed at her words. Could she have said anything more dim-witted?
But as Tristan raised a brow, considering the chair for a moment before taking a seat, her heart tripped a little more. The man might be an earl, but he was so kind and sweet to her that she could’ve wept.
“I see what you mean.” He nodded after he’d sat in the chair. “Very comfortable. So many aren’t these days.”
It took all of her fortitude not to rush forward to hug him. Did he have any idea how he made her feel when he continually validated her opinions and honored her feelings, making her believe that she mattered? That what she thought mattered?
How could he have remained unmarried this long? Any woman with sense would’ve caught him by now and refused to let go. No doubt that was how his fiancée felt. Grace only hoped the woman realized how very lucky she was.
“I think we should establish a new rule.” He turned to look at her as he spoke, those grey eyes making her stomach lurch.
“Oh?” She dug her nails into her palm, hoping he wouldn’t demand that she keep her distance when he next came to visit.
If he came to visit again. Had her behavior already chased him away?
“Drawing room furniture should always be comfortable.” He stood and turned to look at the chair then at her. “Don’t you think?”
She relaxed her hand, noting the twinkle in his eyes as he jested with her. “That is an excellent idea.” Tilting her head, she inquired, “Can it be said of the chairs in your drawing room?”
“I have no idea as I rarely use it.” He stopped as though giving her question serious consideration. “But be assured I will investigate promptly upon my return home.” His smile eased her embarrassment further. “Now then, tell me what else you and Matthew have been doing besides rearranging furniture. I wondered if the two of you might like to ride in Hyde Park one day soon.”
She swallowed hard, her mind blank. Because the notion of kissing him wouldn’t go away.
Tristan watched with approval as Matthew, riding on a brown pony, trotted ahead with a footman directly behind him.
“He’s already an excellent rider.” Tristan turned to look at Grace who rode a dappled grey mare at his side.
She smiled, pride evident in her expression. “We rode often in the country. It didn’t occur to me to ride here in London. I am so pleased you suggested it.”
Tristan couldn’t agree more. Riding was one of his great pleasures, and he did it as often as he could. Hyde Park was fairly quiet this early in the morning. Most of Society was still abed after being out until all hours of the night. The few people they met were more interested in enjoying their ride than noting who was with whom or wearing what. That made it the perfect time for Grace to venture out.
Though he felt guilty for not inviting Samantha along, he knew her well enough to realize she didn’t appreciate mornings the way Grace did.
The cool morning air brought a freshness to the city that would fade as the day progressed. Fog swirled along the horses’ legs as they walked on the dirt tracks that meandered through the park.
“It’s beautiful here,” Grace said as she glanced about. “You’d never know we were in London.”
“That is one of the reasons I like it, though I should warn you that the similarities to the countryside lessen as the day grows long. The façade of clean air falls away, and the park is filled with so many riders and carriages that it becomes difficult to forge a path through the crowd. Early mornings are different. I come here as often as I can.” Tristan took the opportunity to watch her, appreciating the pleasure on her face.
He told himself it was enough—her friendship was all he needed. Yet he couldn’t get their almost kiss of yesterday out of his mind.
The level of desire he felt for her grew three-fold each day. Part of him wanted to suggest they indulge in an affair. Perhaps he could satisfy this urge then put it behind him. But the goodness that shone from Grace made it impossible.
He could no more pursue her while he was engaged to another than he could leap the Thames in a single bound.
Hence the outing today where they wouldn’t be alone, he wouldn’t be tempted, and he’d have time to convince himself her friendship was what mattered.
If only it were that easy, he thought, as he studied her yet again.
Much of the stress so clearly evident in her expression when they’d first met had faded. Her delicate beauty, from the sweep of her dark hair under the clever little hat to the arch of her brow and the creaminess of her skin, were drawing notice from the few passersby. She practically glowed.
Her riding habit was a soft shade of dove grey with touches of violet piping. He was pleased to see she’d expanded her wardrobe since her arrival in London. That was a sign she was taking her place as Viscountess Chivington in a very practical way.
He opened his mouth to compliment her attire, only to realize that would be inappropriate. As inappropriate as the near kiss. Thinking of that moment again was enough to have him shifting in his seat. Desire stirred in every part of him.
It had been a long time since he’d wanted anything as much as he’d wanted to kiss Grace. He was mystified that he’d found the will to step away when she seemed as willing as he to explore their attraction.
He was no saint and had never been one to deny himself pursuing any pleasure that crossed his path. That included everything from fine horseflesh to attractive women. He’d indulged himself with a widow or two before without a second thought.
But Grace was different.
While he knew the simplest solution to his increasing need was to step away from her and Matthew completely, he couldn’t do it. He was drawn to her much like a compass pointed to true north. Some integral part of him refused to listen to reason. He couldn’t stop seeing her.
Instead, he convinced himself they needed his help and would be lost without him. Never mind how conceited it was for him to think Grace couldn’t find her way without his guidance. That was something his father would’ve thought.
Grace was stronger than she realized. She’d told him about parts of her journey. How she’d managed to leave home without any assistance, created a false trail for Charles, found her cousin’s home in this sprawling city, then had the strength of spirit to leave her cousin’s and talk her way past the stoic butler at the house on Grosvenor Square. All those acts showed strength in spades, but she didn’t see it that way.
To her, the entire journey had consisted of escaping one situation after another. He’d suggested that cowardice would’ve been remaining where she was despite the situation, but she refused to listen. Nor had she changed her mind about attending a ball or party. Yet he knew ea
ch small step she took was a victory, whether she saw it that way or not. All those small steps added up to major milestones.
She’d even been hesitant to accept his invitation to ride in Hyde Park until he’d reassured her they’d go at this early hour to avoid the crowd that would appear later.
He continued to believe she’d quickly gain allies who would aid her if she stepped into Society. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he hadn’t been able to keep his distance. Who else would nudge her forward if not him?
“Thank you again for escorting us.”
“Riding here is one of the true pleasures London offers.” He looked around in admiration at the rolling wooded hills. Though he normally rode alone, he realized how nice it was to share the experience with someone who appreciated it.
She frowned as she bit her lip, a sure sign that something worried her.
“What is it?”
She glanced at him with surprise, the hint of a smile curving her rose-colored lips. “Am I so transparent that you can read my thoughts?”
He chuckled. “Not at all. But I know you still have a lot on your mind, and I would help you if I could. I hope you know that.”
“You’ve done so much already,” she began, her lashes sweeping her cheeks, causing the tingle of awareness he’d felt to shift to hot prickles of desire.
“Tell me what’s worrying you.”
“I’m certain Charles and Lynette will descend upon us any day. I have asked Paxton to deny him admittance to the house otherwise they will take up residence, and we will be in the same position we were in the country.”
“Good. It’s your home and you have every right to say who has the privilege of staying there. That was the right thing to do.”
She looked to check on Matthew’s location before continuing, “I am nearly certain Charles is in need of funds from something I overheard him saying to his wife. What if I offer to pay him to go away?”
Tristan couldn’t help but scowl. If only he could uncover more about the man then he could offer assistance. Nathaniel had provided his London address, but the servant who’d answered the door only said they weren’t at home. Tristan hadn’t learned anything there. Yet he already knew that Grace’s idea was a terrible notion. “What happens when he spends the money you gave him and comes back for more?”
Now it was her turn to scowl, if that was what the slight twist to her lips could be called. “I just want him to go away.”
“Then why don’t we see what can be done to make that happen on a permanent basis?”
Her eyes opened wide in alarm. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing so drastic as what may have come to your mind, though that isn’t a terrible idea.” He smiled with his jest.
She giggled in response. “For a moment, I thought you were suggesting something quite illegal.”
The smile she sent him caused his heartbeat to speed. The joy in her expression made her even more alluring. Added to that was the obvious fact that she was oblivious to it.
When Samantha smiled—he didn’t think he’d ever seen her truly laugh—she did so with little joy. It seemed as if it was a calculated move on her part to make herself appear more attractive.
Or her amusement was at the expense of others. Her lack of sincerity bothered him now that he knew her better.
Grace was unique compared to many ladies of the ton, but especially to his fiancée. A trickle of guilt had him frowning at the thought.
He reminded himself that befriending Grace had nothing to do with Samantha. They’d become acquainted by chance—perhaps one could even say fate. There was nothing untoward about him assisting her.
Then why did he feel as if there was? He shook his head at the notion. Samantha interacted with other men. There was no need for him to feel guilty about any of this. Perhaps his guilt came from how much he enjoyed being with Grace and how much he wanted her. That was something he couldn’t deny. Everything about her drew him.
He cleared his throat to bring his thoughts back to the issue of Charles. “I will continue to see if I can find out more about him. If what you heard is true, then there could be a reason for him to be in need of money.”
“Such as?” Grace studied him.
“He may have some dark secret to hide.”
Her eyes lit with understanding. “And we could threaten to reveal it if he doesn’t leave Matthew and me alone.”
“It’s a possibility, don’t you think?” The way she’d said ‘we’ tightened something deep within him. He forced the feeling away and focused on the issue once more. “If you heard anything else that might provide a clue as to why he’s short on funds, it would be helpful.”
“I shall think on it further. Such an idea didn’t occur to me.” She smiled up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I will be ever in your debt for your many acts of kindness.”
He had to look away, feeling like a terrible fraud. No one in his acquaintance would believe for a moment that he’d performed even one act of kindness. If Grace knew who he truly was, she’d quickly end their association without a second thought.
At this moment, she and Matthew were the only ones in all of London who might believe him capable of kindness. He surely couldn’t continue to fool them much longer before they learned the truth.
Chapter Eleven
“It [Mendicity Society] is commonly regarded as a sort of amateur detective association for the discovery of fraudulent begging—a Society that has in its employ certain cunning individuals of the detested breed of ‘spies,’ who earn their wages by lurking in shady places, and peeping over men’s shoulders, and covertly listening to their private conversation.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Grace reviewed the new invitations that had just arrived and were now spread out on the desk before her, overwhelmed at the choices. How did these people know she was here? How could so many be holding balls and parties and dinners all within the next few days? In the country, they’d only had to entertain one or two invitations a month at most.
She felt both oddly flattered and extremely uncomfortable at the attention. Her stomach clenched as she lifted a cream-colored one and slid a silver letter opener beneath the seal.
The Marquess and Marchioness of Torrington
Request the pleasure of Viscountess Chivington’s company
Thursday evening, half-past nine
Dancing
Ralston House
Who were these people? It made her wonder if there were spies in front of her house. If strangers knew she was here, then it was inevitable that Charles and Lynette soon would as well.
The idea of them disturbing her newly found peace was unnerving, but even worse was the idea of confronting Charles. That made her positively ill. She’d attempted to stand her ground in the country several times only to have him march right over the top of her. Granted, she’d done a poor job of it.
Her missteps were clear now that she had some distance. Her indecisiveness and insecurity had made her an unworthy opponent. Whether her newfound confidence and knowledge improved her chances against him remained to be seen. She had no doubt she’d soon find out.
She set aside the card and picked up another. Could Tristan be right? Would attending a party or two somehow make it easier to keep Charles away? That seemed impossible. She didn’t know any of these people nor did they know her. How would going to such an event and standing there amidst strangers who wouldn’t recognize her help anything? Even the idea of doing so made her quiver with nerves.
No. It made no sense. Nothing could be gained by attending.
She closed her eyes at the lie. The truth was that she couldn’t imagine how much courage it would take to attend without knowing anyone.
She’d be miserable and awkward and everyone would see that and realize she didn’t belong. The idea of placing herself on display as a fraud would be one of her worst nightmares come to life.
She scooped up the invitatio
ns and patted them into a hasty pile, reminding herself to ask Mrs. Foley if it was necessary to respond if she wasn’t going.
“Good morning, my lady,” Frederick, the new footman, said from the doorway as he tugged on the bottom of his liveried coat.
“And to you. I hope the day finds you well.” She smiled at the tall young man Paxton had hired soon after her arrival. She quite liked the footman, especially since he was always so kind and respectful to Matthew. Or perhaps it was because he seemed to feel as out of place in his duties as she.
“It does. Thank you.” He gave a bow as though to acknowledge her words. “You’ve a caller, my lady. A Mr. Charles Stannus. Shall I advise him you’re receiving?”
She rose in alarm, heart pounding. “No.” Swallowing hard, she ran her damp palms along her gown. “I left strict orders for him not to be admitted. Is Paxton here?”
“I am terribly sorry.” The young man’s eyes widened in alarm as he realized his mistake. “I will find Paxton at once.” He hurried away only to enter the room again at Charles’s side. “I asked you to wait in the foyer, sir.”
The crack in Frederick’s voice revealed his nervousness at the situation. He was clearly out of his element.
“No need to stand on formality when family is involved.” Her unwelcome guest’s hard, glittering gaze swept over Grace. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
“I hardly think—”
“You look well.” He stepped forward and took her trembling hands in his as though delighted to see her. “London must agree with you.”
Grace tugged free as anger at his brazenness filled her. “I would like you to leave at once.” She hated the wobble in her voice. The sight of Frederick leaving had her shaking. She’d hoped to avoid this confrontation and had certainly not been prepared to deal with Charles this morning.
“That isn’t any way to treat a close relative.” Charles’s chiding tone made her feel inept—a sensation that had paralyzed her for far too long.
She’d spent much of her life doing all she could to please first her father then her husband. Rebelling wasn’t in her nature. But she wasn’t about to step aside and allow this man back into their life. Not when she knew all he’d done to try to harm her son. She would do anything to protect Matthew.
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 12