Inspired by Grace

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  They were in the middle of the dance by the time she realized that Gavin had not said a single word to her. She was still in shock from seeing Mr. Broadbent again.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said, feeling the need to address him formally in public. “I was not prepared to see Mr. Broadbent again.”

  Gavin seemed to be pensive for a moment and then said, “Is there something I should know?”

  Grace felt heat rise in her cheeks again but couldn’t look him in the eye. It was far too embarrassing to admit that she had once hoped to marry the man and that he had rejected her in favor of someone else. It had been a dark time in her life. And though Grace no longer possessed money, or parents, or status, but she still had her pride. “No, sir,” she replied. “There is nothing to tell.”

  *****

  Nothing to tell? I’d wager otherwise by the look of those scarlet cheeks! Gavin wasn’t ready to admit that he was jealous, but there was a familiarity in Mr. Broadbent’s look, nay, even in his very words. He had seen Broadbent openly devouring her with his eyes. He had even called her by her Christian name. Gavin had been around enough degenerates to recognize desire when he saw it.

  And to think Grace had been upset about the women he had kissed during the ten years they were apart. A man does not look at a woman that way unless he has tasted of her sweetness. He felt fury building in his chest that rivaled the anger he had felt toward the Earl of Longmont. At least that fury could be acted upon! He was so close to finding the earl through the very man that Grace knew . . . intimately? Please let me be wrong.

  Their dance ended, and he had still not obtained control over his emotions. He stiffly escorted her back to the side of the room and turned to leave. He had to find Silence, but before he had gotten two paces away, he heard Mr. Broadbent ask Grace for the next set. Gavin glanced over his shoulder masochistically to witness her consent.

  She was not looking at Mr. Broadbent; she was looking straight at Gavin as if asking his permission. He flicked his hand toward the man as if he didn’t care one way or the other. His mother, who had just rejoined the group, eagerly accepted for Grace and thanked Mr. Broadbent for his attentions.

  The next dance was the quadrille. Gavin was going to have to find a partner. Immediately.

  He found the first lady in his path. “Miss Woods, might I have this dance?” At this point, he did not care whom he encouraged or whom he offended. He needed to be in that quadrille set with Grace and Broadbent.

  “I would be honored to take the third set, Your Grace, but this set has already been requested.”

  He had hardly registered her answer when he saw Grace being escorted toward the dance floor. He muttered his apologies and took two steps to the left and bowed deeply to a somewhat robust woman wearing last season’s gown. “Dance with me,” he said. He did not pose it as a question. How many ladies would refuse the command of a duke?

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the woman flustered.

  It was the first time he had ever abused his power. Perhaps he had more of his father in him than he was willing to admit. Nevertheless, the deed was done; he couldn’t back out now.

  In a pace that was perhaps a little urgent, he guided the nameless woman to the other couples that were forming the dancing group. He made it in just before the set was full; he maneuvered himself to the position on Grace’s right.

  As the opening notes were beginning to play, he realized he did not even know his dance partner’s name. She was not an unfamiliar face. If he focused, surely it would come to him; but he found himself unable to think of anything but Grace and Mr. Broadbent.

  He smiled at his partner as she curtsied and the dance began. It was a familiar dance, so he did not have to concentrate on the steps. He endeavored to keep his outward attention fixed on his partner but found himself hanging on every word of the conversation that was occurring on his right.

  Broadbent purred suggestively, “I rarely get to dance with such a beautiful partner. In fact, it has been some time.”

  Grace cleared her throat. “How unfortunate for you that Mrs. Broadbent does not enjoy dancing. She is very beautiful.”

  “Monique?” He replied slyly. “She is not my wife.”

  “Forgive me. She seemed very familiar with you.”

  “You are familiar with me, but that does not make you my wife.”

  “You forget yourself, sir,” Grace hissed.

  “Since you will not ask,” Broadbent offered, “my wife is not here. She planned to come with me, however she developed a headache. A common malady these days.”

  “I did not ask.”

  “Still the debater, I see,” Broadbent smiled.

  “Yes, I will fight for that which I hold dear, no matter what challenges others may put in my way.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Careful with the barbs, Gracie. There are others around.”

  “I hold my tongue when I wish to, not because of what others will say.”

  “Yes,” Broadbent smirked, “you always were free with your tongue.”

  “Mr. Broadbent!” Grace exclaimed.

  “I see you have moved up in the world. A duke!” Grace made no reply. “Were you getting lonely again?” Broadbent quipped.

  “I was not lonely.”

  “You did not miss me then? I missed you, Gracie. I live a very lonely life now. My wife refuses to—”

  “Mr. Broadbent,” Grace interrupted, “please do not address me so informally. It has been several years since I have seen you.”

  “You do not wish to rekindle our friendship? It was so dear to me. Very fond memories, indeed.”

  “No, sir,” she insisted. “I only wish for this dance to end.”

  “I see you have hard feelings. You always were a sore loser.”

  “Listen closely. If I wish to obtain something, I know how to get it. You were never a prize to be won.” For the moment, it seemed that the conversation next to Gavin had come to a close.

  Gavin chanced a glance in their direction and watched as Mr. Broadbent winked at her suggestively. “Yes, you always were good at manipulating the suitor,” Broadbent said, glancing toward Gavin.

  Gavin waited for her response, but there was none. He couldn’t quite understand Grace’s responses, but the innuendoes from Mr. Broadbent could not be denied. Something had happened between them. He could tell she was hiding something, something that made her defensive and hostile.

  Part of him wished to end the misery and walk away from the dance. Another part wished to rush to her defense. But what if Mr. Broadbent’s suggestions were true?

  Was Grace manipulating her current suitor? Him? Was he just a prize to be won? Did she seek me out because I am the Duke of Huntsman? His stomach dropped at the thought. Was she just like every other lady he had met since his brother and father died?

  The dance ended, and he could not have been more relieved. He turned and left his partner without so much as a farewell. Silence followed him to the refreshment table.

  Gavin saw his stern look but ignored it.

  “What has gotten into you?” Silence whispered.

  “Silence, Silence! I need to think.”

  “About what?”

  Gavin said nothing and started walking away through the crowd.

  Silence hurried after him and grabbed his arm. “Kingston, what is going on?”

  “Things are not going as planned. Grace knows Broadbent. I mean she knows him,” Gavin hissed. “She is after my title, just like all those other ladies.”

  Gavin heard a gasp behind him and turned around to see Grace hurrying away. Silence quickly strong-armed him outside into the garden.

  “Kingston,” he snapped, “I did not plan to use these new boots for anything but dancing tonight, but you need a good kick in the pants.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “I do not need a good kick in the pants!” Gavin grumbled, struggling to control his emotions. A few people looked over at him in puzzlement and began whispering to one another.<
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  Silence took his elbow and led him deeper into the garden, away from prying eyes. “Kingston, what possessed you to say such things about Grace? And within earshot! Start talking, or I might just go after her myself.”

  Gavin slowly realized what he had done. “Do you think she heard me?” His stomach dropped at the thought. As angry as he was, he hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  “Of course she heard you!” Silence chided. “We will be lucky if she was the only one who did! Now, take a deep breath and start from the beginning. Clearly something happened to get your knickers in a twist. What was it?”

  Gavin struggled to compose his thoughts. He was so angry he couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. “Well, you saw that I was introduced to Broadbent.”

  “Yes, I believe Harrison did the honors. I did not know he knew him.”

  “Wrong. It was Grace. She knows him. She knows him very well.”

  “How well? Could she extract information from him?”

  “Is that all you think about? There are more important things than finding the Earl of Longmont!”

  Silence gave him a grave look. The cool night air stood thick between them.

  Silence finally broke the stillness. “Love,” he sighed.

  “What?”

  “At first I did not understand what could be more important than finding the Earl of Longmont. Now I know. It is love. It has finally happened, Kingston. You found something to fill the hole in your heart.”

  “Oh, do not lecture me now!”

  “I will lecture,” Silence insisted, “and you will listen! For six months, I have been the guy for all your dirty work. I chased, spied, lied, and cheated for you, just so you could get out of the black hole you have been wallowing in since Spencer’s death. Nothing was more important to you than finding Whitmore and extracting your revenge. You were obsessed.”

  “That is not true,” Gavin protested. But he could see Silence was right. “Very well, perhaps I was. But I deserved to be.”

  “That comment is as insightful as a thirty-year-old penny is bright,” Silence chided.”

  “He took away everything I loved!”

  “Then why let him take even more? You have given him a certain power over you. He has been at the heart of every motivation for the last six months. You are so consumed by this that you refuse to call him anything but his title. And yet you complain that others only see you for your title. Call him Whitmore, for heaven’s sake!”

  Silence wasn’t done yet. “I have observed something from watching all of our friends find matches, Kingston: those who marry for convenience use their heads but are very unhappy; those who follow their hearts lose both their hearts and their heads, but they are happy. They become happy, irrational people, and you definitely qualify.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That is exactly what I am talking about. A week ago, you would have caught on, but now you are nothing short of a dimwit.”

  Gavin gave him a stern look. “No need to resort to name-calling, Silence.”

  “You fell in love, Kingston! It is the only thing that accounts for this irrationality, and it is the only thing that will pull you out of it too. After everything we have been through, you have pushed aside the one person you loved. You are letting your hatred and jealousy and desire for revenge destroy what you have with Grace.” Silence sighed and took a deep breath. “Now, tell me exactly what Grace said that turned you against her so quickly. Why do you think she is conspiring against you?”

  Gavin tried to remember. Was it the part where Broadbent said she was free with her tongue? No, she had seemed very upset about that. Was it the part where Broadbent called her beautiful? Certainly not. Grace’s response had been a spiteful comment about his wife not wanting to dance with him. Was it his compliment about her red hair? No, she had seemed irritated by it.

  He knitted his brows together in concentration. “I am afraid all I know is that they knew each other three years ago,” he conceded.

  “Perhaps they met when she had her first season,” Silence suggested.

  The answer suddenly dawned on Gavin. “Oh no,” he groaned. “I think Mr. Broadbent was an old suitor who got her hopes up three years ago. Grace never talks about her first season with me. I only overheard her say something to my mother.”

  Silence confirmed, “He did get married almost three years ago.”

  “It must be him. What if she still has feelings for him?”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “No.”

  “Well, did she seem brokenhearted or angry?”

  Gavin tried to separate his jealousy from his memories. He reexamined her body language and tone of voice. She had held her head high, and her shoulders had been pushed back. She had touched his hands as little as possible while they danced. Her tone had been cold and calculated. “Looking back, I think it was very clear . . .”

  “What was clear?” Silence coaxed.

  “Oh, Silence, I made a mess of things. She detests the man! It is so clear now. She is not after my title, is she? And I just abandoned her. I have to find her.” Gavin patted Silence’s shoulder and said, “Thanks for the kick. It hurt like the dickens, but it was well deserved.”

  “I will do it again if you do not make things right.”

  As he ran back to the ballroom, Gavin called out behind him, “Silence, Silence!”

  *****

  Grace hardly had time to consider what Gavin had said before someone asked her to dance.

  She was mad at Mr. Broadbent, fuming even. But it was nothing compared to the pain and sorrow she felt over Gavin’s words. How could he have believed Mr. Broadbent’s lies so easily? He thought she was after his money? The pain stung so deeply that she nearly cried out in agony.

  It seemed everything she held dear was going to be taken from her, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had trusted Gavin, had risked loving him, even convinced herself that they could be happy together. But he didn’t trust her. At the first sign of trouble, he had abandoned her, just like before. She had been careless. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  The gentleman she was dancing with asked, “Miss Iverson, you seem distracted, are you well?”

  “I am afraid that I am feeling lightheaded. I do hate to end our dance early, but I think I should probably sit down.”

  “Certainly. Take my arm.” He led her to the refreshment table and offered her some wine, which she declined. They awkwardly passed a few minutes in silence, watching the other dancers on the floor.

  “Would you like anything else?” he asked.

  “No, I will be fine,” Grace said and shook her head. “I think I would just like to go home now.”

  “Then allow me to call your carriage for you.”

  “No need, sir,” another gentleman responded. “Miss Iverson is welcome to use my carriage. I am confident that it has hardly been put away as I just barely arrived. You do look rather pallid, Miss Iverson. The sooner you get home, the better.”

  Sooner sounded much better than later. Grace nodded, and her partner bowed and disappeared into the crowd. The gentleman offering to take her home was familiar, but she couldn’t remember his name. She hardly remembered her own after all of the night’s introductions.

  She allowed herself to be led toward the front door. Grace barely heard him order the carriage before the room started to spin. She quickly found a place to sit as they waited.

  Her thoughts returned to Gavin. Where could he be? Should I have gone after him? Did he really believe all those things? The pain threatened to escape her eyes, but she resisted it with all her might. She was a strong woman, and tears were for those who were weak.

  She heard the butler announce, “Lord Randall, your carriage is ready.”

  Lord Randall Fresden! Earl of somewhere . . . That was his name! He helped her to a standing position and ushered her down the Comptons’ steps. “May I escort you home?” he asked.

  Grace
was surprised he would even suggest such a thing, as the offer was highly improper. A lady would never ride unchaperoned with a gentleman. “Thank you, but no. I shall be fine on my own,” she replied. “Please let the duchess know I was not feeling well.” Her chest felt tight, and she hoped she could get home in time before the tears came. She turned to step into the carriage and caught her slipper on the step, losing her footing. Lord Randall caught her in his arms and steadied her. Her heart lurched for a moment when he did not release her immediately.

  “I think I am well now,” she assured him.

  “I must insist on escorting you home, Miss Iverson. On my gentleman’s honor, you must not be left alone. You can hardly stand.”

  Her overwrought mind struggled to compose another polite refusal. But then she noticed a man dressed in dirty, ratty clothes leaning against the gate, eying her rakishly. Late as it was, and alone in a strange city, perhaps having Lord Randall accompany her would not be so terrible. She hesitated for a second before forming a reply.

  “Very well,” Grace conceded, desperate to get home as quickly as possible. “I will not be good company, I am afraid. Talking seems to make me even more lightheaded.” And it will just make me cry.

  “We need not converse.” There was an air of authority in his voice, but she was glad he was in agreement. She stepped into the carriage. He quickly gave directions to his driver and followed her in, taking the seat across from her.

  They rode for a few minutes. Cold, dark thoughts about her broken hopes soon returned, making her shiver.

  Lord Randall reached under the seat and pulled out a lap blanket and moved to the seat next to her. He draped the blanket on her knees. She was shocked to feel his hand remain on her leg.

  She sat up straighter and removed his hand with authority. “Lord Randall! I assure you, I can adjust the blanket on my own!”

  He placed his finger on her lips and shushed her, but she shook her head to remove it.

  “Shhh, Miss Iverson. I told you, we need not converse.”

  *****