Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3)

by Lana Williams

  Not for the first time, he found Society and all its rules and expectations ridiculous. He was no longer engaged. He wanted Grace and there was a good chance she wanted him. The rest of this was annoying and a waste of time.

  But he heeded convention nonetheless. Grace had been through enough. He would not be the cause of any further harm to her.

  Gathering his wits, he spoke to Julia, then to Lettie, before at last easing closer to Grace. “Good evening.”

  “I hope you are well, my lord.” Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks before rising again.

  “I am now.” He spoke the words as he felt them—strong and sure.

  Those warm chocolate eyes met his. What he saw in their depths set his heart pounding. He felt more like a schoolboy with his first infatuation than a grown man—an earl, no less.

  “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  Julia and Lettie giggled at Grace’s question. Nathaniel practically growled.

  Frost had apparently just arrived as he joined their group, a brow raised in question at the commotion. “Good evening, everyone. What did I miss?”

  Not waiting to hear what the explanation might be, Tristan offered his elbow to Grace. If the lady wanted to dance, who was he to deny her?

  They moved toward the small dance floor where a quartet of musicians played nearby. The intimacy of the party wasn’t lost on Tristan and brought several advantages. The number of people on the dance floor required him to hold Grace close.

  “Are you well?” he asked as he searched her face.

  “I am. You?”

  He nodded, desperately wanting to tell her that he was no longer betrothed. But was it too soon? Would it be sending the wrong message? Would he be stealing her newfound independence?

  He’d never felt so indecisive in his life.

  “And Matthew?” he asked.

  “Quite well.” She frowned. “I wonder if you might consider seeing him again soon. He still seems a bit out of sorts after his venture to Hyde Park.”

  “It would be my honor. Why don’t the three of us plan an outing there together?”

  “That would be so kind of you.” Grace smiled up at him. “Do you have a date in mind?”

  Impatience bubbled up inside him. All of this seemed ridiculous when what he truly wanted to do was pull her against him and kiss her until neither of them was capable of continuing this inane conversation.

  “Grace, I want you to know—”

  “I believe this dance was promised to me.” Samantha’s voice cut through the fog that filled Tristan’s mind.

  Grace stepped back from his arms, dismay on her face. “Of course.”

  Samantha took Grace’s place before Tristan could protest. Yet what could he say?

  “How dare you try to make a fool of me.” Samantha hissed as Grace turned and walked away.

  “To what are you referring?” Tristan was all too aware of the people who’d stopped dancing to stare at them. He didn’t care to be the center of attention. Trying to control his anger, he took several dance steps.

  “I am trying to give the impression that we parted on good terms, yet the moment I turn my back, you are dancing with that woman. What will people think?”

  “Now that you are causing a scene by interrupting us on the dance floor?” He halted abruptly, and the anger he’d been trying to hold back spilled over the gates of his restraint. “People will wonder if you’re the problem.”

  “You left me no choice.” Somehow the venom in her voice was made worse by the pleasant smile on her face. She was still trying to fool everyone.

  “Actually, I did.” He released her abruptly. “You are the one who chose otherwise.” Without a backward glance, he turned and walked away before he said something truly awful.

  He searched for Grace, wanting to apologize and explain the situation, but he only found Nathaniel, Letitia, Julia, and Frost.

  “Well, wasn’t that nice entertainment for the crowd.” Nathaniel studied Tristan as he returned to his side.

  Tristan didn’t bother to respond. “Where’s Grace?”

  “She left.”

  His heart sank. “Then there’s no point in my remaining.”

  “Except that if you leave now, everyone will assume you’re going to her.” Letitia’s gentle reminder was unwelcome, as that had been his intent. “That will only make the rumors about your broken engagement worse.”

  “I’m afraid she’s right,” Julia added.

  Frost shook his head. “Though I’d say the viscountess didn’t appear happy.”

  Tristan looked at Lettie and Julia. “Does she know of the broken engagement?”

  “She didn’t mention it,” Julia said as she glanced at Lettie.

  “Nor to me,” Lettie confirmed. “But we hardly had a chance to speak since her arrival. It’s not as if she knows anyone with whom to gossip, is it?”

  Tristan wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake by not telling her himself. Yet there was nothing he could do this evening. He’d have to wait until the morning. He would call on her early with the hope of seeing both her and Matthew.

  It seemed a solid plan. Then why didn’t it stop him from worrying over what she was thinking about right this moment?

  Grace watched the street lamps pass by from the carriage window, their glow adding an eerie quality to the evening. She drew her cloak over her shoulders, feeling much like Cinderella leaving the ball before she was ready and without the prince of her dreams.

  What else could she have done? She supposed she should’ve remained and acted as if Lady Samantha’s interruption of their dance didn’t bother her in the least, but she simply couldn’t.

  When Tristan had released her and taken his fiancée into his arms, her heart twisted so much that she could barely breathe. Pretending all was well was beyond her. She couldn’t have feigned composure if her life depended on it.

  Even now, the memory of him stepping away from her had her blinking back tears. He’d let go so quickly that she’d felt unwanted, like a broken cup easily tossed away.

  It was all her fault, truly. How many times had she told herself to guard her heart? That he was not for her?

  When those men had gathered around her at the party upon her arrival, she’d been taken aback, surprised at the light of interest in their eyes. Though a few had introduced themselves, she didn’t remember their names nor would she recognize their faces if she saw them again.

  All of her attention had been focused on Tristan. She’d seen him the moment she’d entered the room. When he made his way toward her, at last, her stomach danced in delight and anticipation. Though she tried to act as if seeing him was nothing special, her entire being was attuned to him in a way she couldn’t explain or control.

  Her cheeks warmed at the memory of her asking him to dance. Such things simply weren’t done, not to mention that she’d vowed to keep her distance from him until she could get her emotions under control. What had she been thinking?

  Worst of all, it had left him no choice. He could hardly refuse her. She’d placed him in an impossible situation—one he gladly escaped when given the chance. And she’d also asked him to come and see Matthew. She knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he would do so. He was a man who kept his word.

  She covered her face with her hands and allowed her tears to flow. There was no one to see her do so.

  No one at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “In the first year of the Society’s existence, when the scheme was new, and the vagrant crop dead-ripe for gathering, and the officers eager to get at their new and novel employment, 385 ‘sturdy beggars’ were caught and sent to gaol.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Tristan waited in the foyer of Grace’s home the next morning at the footman’s request, surprised he hadn’t been shown directly in to see her. Then again, it was early for social calls. She might’ve been up late the previous evening and was still abed. Perhaps the hours most of the ton k
ept had finally caught up with her.

  He warily eyed several vases of flowers on the foyer table. Obviously, her presence in the city had been noted. Could all those be from suitors? He didn’t care for that notion at all.

  Paxton came from the back of the house, his quick pace making Tristan wonder if something was amiss.

  “Good morning, my lord.” He offered a stiff bow. “I’m terribly sorry, but the viscountess is not receiving today.”

  “Today?” Tristan frowned at his word choice. “The entire day?”

  “Correct, my lord. I will be certain to tell her you called.”

  “Very well.” His disappointment kept him pinned to the spot. His longing to see her caused an ache in his chest that made breathing difficult. He turned toward the door only to realize he couldn’t leave unless he knew. “Is all well with the viscountess?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Please tell her I asked about her.” He waited, hoping the man would throw him a crumb.

  “Of course.” The butler’s stoic face gave away nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  The next morning, Tristan tried again. He’d seen Nathaniel the previous evening and learned that Letitia and Julia had visited with Grace. Unfortunately, his brother knew nothing about Grace or her state of mind. Surely by now she knew of his broken engagement.

  Yet doubt niggled away at him, making him certain something was wrong. Though it might’ve been wiser to send a message and await her reply, he wanted to speak to her.

  To touch her.

  To kiss her.

  To—

  He pulled back his wayward thoughts before they got the better of him.

  Again, he was asked to wait in the foyer where even more vases of flowers resided while the footman ventured into the depths of the house. And again, Paxton came to tell him that she was not receiving.

  Concern thudded through him. What on earth was happening?

  The butler looked at anywhere except him.

  Tristan stepped closer. “Speak plainly. What is going on?”

  The man swallowed hard, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Trust me. You are at liberty.” Tristan held his gaze. “What the hell is wrong?”

  “I’d be happy to give her a message.” Paxton twisted his hands together. “Or you’re welcome to try again on the morrow.”

  He considered the man’s words, looking for any hidden meaning. From what little he could garner, it sounded like an invitation to try again. Did that mean his efforts were wearing away her defenses?

  Why did she suddenly have defenses against him when the other night she’d asked him to call to see Matthew?

  “Damn.” She must still believe him to be engaged, and after Samantha’s interference with their dance—no wonder she didn’t wish to speak with him. His chest tightened as he considered the pain he might’ve caused her.

  “I’ll leave her a message and return on the morrow.”

  Paxton looked almost relieved at his decision. He gestured toward the table, which held notes and a pen amidst the many vases.

  With a scowl at the flowers taunting him, he wrote a note then sealed it in an envelope. He considered asking Paxton to deliver it while he waited for a response but decided against doing so. He wanted her to have time to think over his message and choose whether to see him tomorrow without the pressure of him standing here waiting.

  He’d have his answer as to any possibility of a future between them then. Now if only he could stand the wait.

  Grace held her breath as she read the words scrawled on the stiff parchment.

  I am no longer engaged.

  Warmest Regards,

  T.

  Shocked, she read it again and again, wondering what it might mean. Or rather, what he intended by telling her.

  “He’s gone?” she asked Paxton.

  “Yes, my lady. But he said he’d return on the morrow.”

  It had taken all of her will not to run downstairs to see him each time he called. She’d nearly peeked from the upper level into the foyer with the hope of catching a glimpse of his tall form. But that would’ve only weakened her resolve.

  Her mind spun at the news, unable to grasp what it meant. She couldn’t believe Lettie and Julia hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, Julia had brought him up in conversation, but Grace had made it clear that she didn’t want to discuss him.

  “Tomorrow you say?” she repeated breathlessly as a spiral of anticipation spun through her.

  “Yes. Shall I send him away again when he calls?”

  “No.” Her emphatic response startled the poor man. She rose, unable to keep the smile from her lips. “No. I will see him then.” She turned away only to turn back again. “Whatever shall I wear?”

  Paxton’s eyes widened. “That is not something that is within my area of expertise, my lady, but I admire the dark blue gown.”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Paxton. You are a treasure.” She grabbed both his hands and squeezed.

  “Humph.” His cheeks reddened at her gesture. “Would you mind mentioning that to Mrs. Foley? I’ve told her before, but she doesn’t seem to believe me.”

  Grace giggled. “I would be pleased to. She’s quite a treasure as well, you know.”

  The sparkle in the elderly man’s eyes lightened Grace’s heart even more. “She is indeed. She doesn’t believe that either.”

  “I will be certain to set her straight when I next see her.”

  Grace hurried up the stairs to the nursery so she could let Matthew know Tristan would be calling upon them tomorrow. He’d be equally delighted.

  Despite her attempts to warn herself not to get her hopes up, not to expect anything, she couldn’t hold back her delight. At the very least, she was thrilled to know he wouldn’t be marrying Samantha.

  But a corner of her heart shouted for so much more.

  Tristan knocked on the door of the house in Grosvenor Square once again, nerves humming. Why he was so anxious was a mystery. Was it nerves or anticipation? Before he could decide, the door opened to reveal a beaming Paxton.

  The butler’s broad smile relieved Tristan’s worry. The rare sight had to be a good sign.

  “Come in, my lord.” He gestured for Tristan to enter with a flourish. “Her ladyship is in the drawing room.”

  Tristan’s world tilted back into its proper place. The knot of tension deep inside released. “Thank you.”

  As he passed through the foyer, he noted the absence of the flowers and smiled.

  Grace rose as he entered the bright drawing room. “Good morning, Tristan.”

  “It is now.” He paused as he studied her, realizing how much he’d missed her. Her dark blue gown made her alabaster skin glow. Her hair was pulled back loosely with several strands remaining free to tease her shoulders. But it was her soft smile that caught his breath.

  Everything he’d intended to say, to explain, fell away. To stand before her without his betrothal keeping them apart was more tempting than he’d anticipated. After all these days of waiting, he could wait no more.

  His gaze held hers, noting the awareness that darkened her eyes ever so slightly. He eased closer. Close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, and it set his aflame.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

  “I missed you as well,” she whispered back.

  “You received my message?”

  “Yes.” Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of rose.

  That blush caused him to catch his breath as desire speared through him. Unable to wait a moment longer, he captured her mouth with his. The taste of her was so sweet. It was everything he needed. Greedy, he took big gulps of her, drawing her against him as he ran his hands along her back, her sides, everywhere and anywhere he could reach.

  Her low moan sent his pulse racing, but he knew she couldn’t feel as much as he did. It simply wasn’t possible.

  His tongue swept inside her mouth, dancing with h
ers. She fit him perfectly, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.

  He eased back before being completely carried away by the passion rising within him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner of my broken engagement.”

  “I should’ve seen you when you called. That would’ve cleared matters up much more quickly.” She shook her head, pain flashing briefly in her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “When Samantha interrupted our dance, I thought—”

  “Don’t think of it,” he murmured as he tightened his arms around her. “I’d already requested her to call off the engagement. I can only guess that she believed I had slighted her by dancing with you.”

  She looked up at him, a crease of worry marking her brow. “I don’t think she’s going to let you go easily.”

  Tristan sighed. “I know. I don’t want to do anything that will cause her harm. She seems to find trouble of her own accord.”

  “May I ask you something?” He didn’t care for the uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  The question gave him pause. How much should he say? He didn’t want to pressure her, not when she was just coming to find her voice in the world.

  “I only know I can’t marry her. While I thought her personality a good match for my temper, I realized that much of what she did made me angry, unhappy even. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life unhappy.” I’d much rather spend it with you. But he held back the thought. Now was not the time. It was too soon.

  Grace nodded, her hands rising along his chest to play with the hair at the back of his neck. “And now?”

  A battle raged within him, and he struggled to find a balance. He wanted to give her time to better know him, yet he wanted to make his interest clear. “Grace, I care for you. Deeply. I want to spend more time with you. To see if there is a possibility of a future for us.”

  The stunned joy on her face lightened his heart. Happiness was an elusive state of mind for him. But when he was with her, it seemed obtainable. To think he brought that to her as well was a gift.