Her Secret Beau: A Touches 0f Austen Novel Bok 3

by Leenie Brown

  “You are very wise,” she said.

  Walter chuckled. “On occasion, but only on occasion. I reserve the right to be foolish and nonsensical when needed.” The comment had the desired effect of eliciting a lovely laugh from her.

  “When is it necessary to be nonsensical?” Grace asked between giggles.

  “I really do not know, but I am certain there must be times when foolishness is preferable to being prudent.” He leaned closer to her. “I will let you know when I discover such a time.”

  Again, the comment had the desired effect of causing her to continue to giggle.

  “Shall we sit on this bench for a few minutes before we return and I must leave?”

  They had come to the part of the garden where the path either circled back around toward the house or continued up a small set of stone steps and out into a portion of the garden that had been left quite rustic and natural. Here at the foot of those steps was a stone bench, tucked neatly off the path between two hedges and overshadowed by a tree, which when it bore leaves was a welcome respite from the sun. The bench itself was made of two stacks of stone, comprising the legs, and a large slab, spanning the distance between them. The slab, or seat, was well-worn from the many people who had sat upon it over the years.

  “Do you know,” Walter continued as Grace took a seat on the bench, “that this was my favourite place when I was just a lad and came to visit my grandparents.”

  “Was it really?” Grace smiled and ran a hand over the bit of slab next to her where he was about to sit. “It is a lovely bench, and the aspect from here is delightful.” She leaned toward him when he finally took a seat. “I am particularly fond of arched garden gates, and you can see the gate between the hedges quite perfectly from here. I imagine that the gate is even more delightful when all the flowers are in bloom.”

  “It is,” Walter agreed. “And when the tree behind us is laden with leaves, there is something very cozy feeling about this place, almost as if one could hide here, which I must say, I have.”

  “You have hidden here?”

  Walter nodded. “When I was just a boy of about six, I used to curl into a ball under this very bench when playing hide-and-go-seek. Every time.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I would not advise using the same hiding place over and over if one has been found in it. It is the surest way to lose a game.”

  She giggled. He did so love hearing her do so. It was enough to make any of the uneasiness he felt at admitting such foolishness fade away.

  “As I said, I am not always wise.”

  “No one is when he is six,” she assured him. “Do you still hide here? Not under the bench. You would surely not fit there now, but by sitting here?”

  He nodded. “I do not know if I would say I hide here now, but it is one of my favourite spots in all of the garden.”

  She turned toward him, angling her body so that she was not just turning her head. In doing so, her knee rested against the side of his leg. The action did not seem to bother her in the least. She seemed exceptionally comfortable with him. He, on the other hand, found it to be unexpectedly distracting in a very pleasant sort of fashion. So distracting in fact, that he shifted his leg away from her so that he might keep his mind where it should be.

  “Why do you not live here? Erondale is your house, is it not?”

  “It is,” he replied as he shifted to look more fully at her but taking care to keep from touching her. “I am only one person. What do I need with so large a house?”

  “But you could sit here every day if you lived here.”

  “True, but I can command a higher rent for Erondale than I can for my townhouse, and currently, I would rather have more money and live in my townhouse where I am steps from all that there is to do in Bath. I fear I would find spending my evenings at Erondale to be dreadfully boring with only myself to keep me company.”

  She looked toward the house. “It would be a difficult thing to choose between the beauty here and the excitement of town,” she agreed. “What will you do when you marry?” She was looking at him again and her cheeks bore a rosy hue while she attempted to looked serene, though she was doing a very poor job of it.

  “I will likely rent out my townhouse and take up residence here. That is, of course, unless my wife wishes to live in town. However, after there are children, this garden would be just the thing for them.” He tipped his head and studied her face for a moment. “What would you do? If you were the owner of Erondale and a townhouse in Bath?”

  “I would have to know what the townhouse looks like to make an accurate decision, but if it is as nice or nicer than the one which Father has rented, I would be tempted to stay in town for a time — although I do love Erondale and this garden, and the shops are not too far a drive away.”

  “But it all hinges on the townhouse?” He was quite certain she would like his home in town. He had not taken some small place that suited his needs as an unmarried gentleman. He had taken a townhouse that was both in a desirable location and had rooms enough for a family, for he knew that one day he would be renting it out and so, he had invested accordingly.

  She nodded.

  “Well, then,” he said as he rose and held out his hand to assist her in rising, “you shall have to visit me in town at some point.”

  Her eyes grew wide as she stood before him. Close enough that if he put his arm out — just so. He could wrap it around her back and pull her to him – like that.

  “In case,” he said, looking down into her eyes and seeing once again that delectable look of longing, “in case, somewhere along the way during this courtship, we decide we suit.”

  Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips, while she nodded mutely. It was nearly an invitation he could not resist. Nearly.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered as he released her from his embrace. “I have taken liberties where I should not have.”

  Her disappointment was written clearly on her face. “Please, I…” She shrugged as if she was not certain what she wanted to say. “You may kiss me,” she offered quietly. Her chest was lifting and lowering with deliberate breaths just as his was.

  “Not yet,” he said above the hammering of his heart in his ears. When had holding a lady ever caused his heart to thud so loudly? When had he ever desired a kiss so much as he did at this moment?

  “When?” she whispered.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Perhaps, one day,” he said as he tucked the hand he had kissed into the crook of his arm. “Perhaps, one day.”

  Chapter 9

  A full day and several hours later, the lingering effects of an almost first kiss had not worn off. Such an intimate moment was a heady thing, and Grace could not put the memory of such wonderfulness by without giving it the full amount of respect it was due. This, of course, required a wistful sigh upon each remembrance. Since Mr. Blakesley had departed Erondale yesterday, it had honestly been a struggle of nearly herculean proportions for Grace to think of much else besides how it had felt to be held by him. Oh, it had been most delightful! How did one feel such perfectness in the arms of a gentleman and still entertain thoughts of others? Grace simply could not fathom how her sister could do so. Felicity really was beyond understanding.

  “What is that sigh?” Victoria whispered. “I have heard it several times both yesterday and today. Is all well?”

  “Yes, all is perfect. Can you believe we are here? This room is so lovely, and I just know the music will be divine, do you not think so?” And Mr. Blakesley would join them – along with Mr. Norman, of course. But even if he was to be a full chair away from her, she would get to see him and speak with him. Turning from Victoria to survey the room once more and peek yet again at the doorway in hopes of seeing Mr. Blakesley arrive, she was surprised to find that very gentleman standing behind his friend near the empty seats beside her.

  “You look lovely this evening,” Mr. Norman said. “May I sit with you?” He looked past her to Graeme, who nodded.
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  “Good evening, Mr. Norman and Mr. Blakesley.” Grace tried to keep her eyes mostly on Mr. Norman, but it was excessively difficult to ignore Mr. Blakesley. This scheme was going to be most trying for that very reason.

  “Good evening, Miss Grace,” Mr. Blakesley replied. “Mr. Norman insisted I join him in attending tonight’s concert. I hope you do not mind the imposition?” Small crinkles formed near his eyes which were filled with amusement.

  Grace had never thought that lines around one’s eyes could be so lovely as they were when he smiled at her. “I do not mind in the least. It is a grand thing to have a large group of friends to keep one company. Would you not agree, Mr. Norman?”

  “Yes, yes. Quite so.” He leaned forward. “And how are you this evening, Mrs. Shelton?”

  “I am well, thank you. As is Mrs. Clayton.”

  “That is good news.”

  Mr. Norman’s smile was relaxed and easy. He truly did care about the wellbeing of others. Grace looked around the room as he continued to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Shelton about their day and the weather and a few other things. Surely, in this vast array of people, there must be one lady who would like to marry a handsome and kind physician.

  “Grace!”

  Her eyes closed as the wonderfulness of the evening was sucked from her with that one word.

  “Mama, look. It is Grace.”

  “Indeed, it is, and Beatrice and Mr. Clayton,” Mrs. Love replied. “And several others I have yet to meet,” she added with a quick glance at Mr. Norman and a raised eyebrow for Grace.

  “I am well,” Grace replied, causing her mother to look somewhat chagrinned.

  “I am delighted to hear that. I was just about to inquire after your health and that of dear Bea.” With a few pardon me’s, Mrs. Love and Felicity, followed by Mr. Love and Mr. Ramsey, squeezed past those already seated in the row in front of Grace so that they could sit just in front of Mr. and Mrs. Shelton and Mr. and Mrs. Clayton.

  Having gained her seat, Mrs. Love turned to Bea. “How are you, my dear? I have been concerned about you. There is so much commotion in Bath and all that.”

  “I am no worse than normal,” Bea answered. “Tonight will wear on me, but tomorrow is to be devoted to quiet pursuits.”

  Grace was not certain if what Bea said was true. It had seemed to her that Bea was finding it impossible to make it through a single day without retiring for a rest. She had never done so at Heathcote last year.

  “As long as the times of reprieve outweigh the times of exertion, no ill will befall her,” Mr. Clayton said.

  Could any gentleman look more pleased with his wife than Mr. Clayton did right now? It was enough to elicit one more small sigh from Grace, which in turn earned Grace a furrowed, worried brow look from Victoria.

  “He is just so good to her,” Grace whispered.

  Victoria smiled and patted Grace’s hand in way of agreement.

  “It is a relief to hear it, is it not, Mr. Love?” Grace’s mother said.

  “A great relief,” Mr. Love said with a wink for Bea. “Now, if my wife is done, perhaps we can have some introductions.”

  And so, the Sheltons, as well as Mr. Norman and Mr. Blakesley were introduced by Graeme to the Loves and Mr. Ramsey. And, in turn, Mr. Ramsey was introduced by Mr. Love to the Claytons and Mr. Norman and Mr. Blakesley, since he was already known by the Sheltons.

  “A man of medicine?” Mrs. Love asked as if she had never heard of such a thing about Mr. Norman before. “That is a handy friend to have.” She smiled at Bea.

  “Oh, he is more than handy,” Mr. Blakesley said. “He is one of the most loyal friends a fellow could find. He has done me more than one good turn for very little in return.”

  “And he is very well-liked,” Grace added. “I am certain you did not make it into the room without being stopped by several people eager to wish you a good evening.” She looked expectantly at Mr. Norman whose brow furrowed for a moment.

  “We spoke to four individuals and their parties before we had even reached the door to this room,” Mr. Blakesley said, much to Grace’s relief. Thankfully, it seemed one of her companions understood the need to praise Mr. Norman to her mother.

  “I suppose I am so used to being stopped that I did not even consider it as something about which to keep account,” Mr. Norman added. “It is a hazard of my profession, I suppose.”

  “I shall have to disagree,” Mr. Blakesley said. “Norman here would have just as many well-wishers no matter his profession. He is just the sort of fellow who makes friends with ease.”

  “He does seem so,” Grace agreed.

  “The same could be said about Blakesley,” Roger inserted. “Therefore, it makes sense that you should be such good friends.”

  “And how do you know Mr. Shelton?” Grace’s father asked of Mr. Blakesley.

  “We attended school together,” Graeme answered. “The three of us.”

  No more was able to be said as the concert was set to begin. At least, no words were able to be spoken. However, Mrs. Love could not refrain from sending a speaking glance Grace’s direction several times during the performance. Therefore, when the music had stopped and the crowds began to mill about and make their way out of the room, albeit slowly, Grace was not surprised at all to find her mother at her elbow.

  “Does Mr. Blakesley have an estate?” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is the one Mr. Clayton and Mr. Shelton have leased.”

  “And is it large?”

  Grace shook her head. “Not overly so. It is quite perfectly proportioned. The gardens are well-designed, and the house does not want for care.”

  “He is handsome.”

  The hopeful note in her mother’s tone caused Grace’s stomach to tumble. “But what of Mr. Ramsey?” she asked, putting her anxious thoughts into words.

  “Oh, I am not inquiring for Felicity.” Her mother looked at her expectantly. “An estate owner is a better choice than a physician,” she added when Grace said nothing.

  Grace had not held her tongue purposefully. Her mind was whirling, attempting to keep her scheme in her control rather than having it overtaken by any of her mother’s matchmaking attempts. It would not matter if their mother had arranged things to Grace’s advantage. Grace could see how Felicity even now, while standing with her hand on Mr. Ramsey’s arm was assessing Mr. Blakesley, and Grace would not allow Mr. Blakesley to be snatched from her like Mr. Everett Clayton and Mr. Ramsey had been.

  “He is not unattached,” she whispered to her mother. Her heart thudded, heavy and fast within her chest. “There is a lady who has captured Mr. Blakesley’s attention.

  “I do not see anyone on his arm,” her mother countered.

  “That is because she is not here. She is not even in Bath.”

  “She is not?” There was a great deal of interest mixed with surprise in the question. “If she is not here, then, where is she?”

  Grace’s brow furrowed. Where was this imaginary lady from? “Um, I think…” A smile curled her lips as the perfect reply became obvious. Surely, any gentleman who had nearly kissed a lady must have had his attention captured by that lady. “I think she is from Kent.”

  “Near us?” her mother asked, casting a furtive look in Mr. Blakesley’s direction.

  “I could not say.” Because the lady was very, very near their estate in Kent. In fact, she was a resident at that estate. However, her mother could not know that.

  “What is her name?”

  Grace shook her head. “I am sure I could not tell you. I have only heard bits and pieces, and I did not think it polite to ask.”

  Her mother looked disappointed. “I suppose that is true, unfortunately.” She sighed. “Do you know if he is betrothed?”

  “I do not believe he is.” Oh! That was the wrong thing to say, Grace scolded herself as her mother’s face brightened.

  “If he is not betrothed, then there could be no harm in a wee mite of flirting.”

  “Mama, I am no
t Felicity.”

  Her mother gasped and looked affronted.

  “I will not attempt to steal a gentleman from another,” Grace clarified.

  “I was not saying you should, of course. I was just thinking that if you were to flirt with him a trifle, we might find out how attached he is to this young woman.”

  “That sounds a great deal like attempting to steal him from another,” Grace answered. “I will not do it.”

  “Oh, very well. I suppose you are correct. But an estate owner is so much better than a physician.”

  “Mr. Norman is a very kind man, Mama.”

  Mrs. Love sighed. “But kindness does not put food on the table.”

  “It is far more likely that kindness will before unkindness does.”

  “Oh, Grace,” her mother chided. “You know what I mean. I cannot say your father will approve of such a match.”

  “Please, Mother, could we speak of something else?” Anything else. There were two older ladies who were watching them closely. With any luck, they would both be hard of hearing and would not have heard a word of her discussion with her mother.

  “Mr. Blakesley,” her mother said as she pulled Grace forward. “Grace was telling me that you have a young lady waiting for you in Kent, and since we are from Kent, I do hope that you will call on us when you are there.”

  Grace’s eyes grew wide. Her mother was not supposed to mention this imaginary lady to Mr. Blakesley!

  “You are from Kent?” he replied with all the calm of a gentleman surveying a billiard table. There was a calculating look to his expression and small quizzical lift to his left eyebrow when he glanced at Grace.

  “Yes, has Grace not told you?”

  “I am afraid we have not had a great deal of time to discuss such things.”

  Grace pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. That was a bald-faced lie, and though she did not normally approve of such things, presently, she found it very well done.

  “Well, then,” her mother said with a coy smile of her own, “I would not be opposed to a call so that we can learn more about one another. It would be a great boon to have another person from Kent to count as a friend.”