She frowned. “I do have a way to escape your affections? Please do tell me so I may take advantage.”
“No, that you do not.” He winked, picking up a new blade of grass to twirl between his fingers. “But I was teasing about Miss Darby. I have not begun a pursuit of her. And I never intend to. I only wished to see your reaction.”
Relief crashed over Grace like a wave of the Brighton waters, but it was quickly followed by the sharp reminder of her role in his game. “If you think I was envious, you are wrong. I simply didn’t think Miss Darby was the correct choice for you.”
“Who would you consider the correct choice?”
She stumbled for a reply. “I’m not certain. But not Miss Darby. I am a skilled matchmaker, you know. Perhaps in time I can find you an alternative match, one much more compatible with you.”
“You are a skilled matchmaker?” He made no effort to hide his surprise—or amusement.
“Why does that surprise you?”
He shrugged. “You do not strike me as a romantic.”
“Of course, I am. Why do you suppose I have been reading A Match of Great Consequence at my leisure? Well, not any longer since my mother confiscated it from me.” Grace sighed. Why was she telling Lord Ramsbury all of this? Why was she sitting on the grass having a conversation with him as if they were friends? It all seemed very wrong. There was also the fact that they were alone and unchaperoned, which would not bode well for her if they were seen.
Lord Ramsbury reached inside his jacket, a grin lighting his face as he withdrew a small book of his own. He turned the cover toward her, the words faintly visible among the worn leather.
“Where did you find that?” she half-whispered, afraid her mother might find a way to overhear from her place inside the house.
“I believe you mean to say ‘where the devil did you find that.’”
She laughed with disbelief. He held the book up to the sunlight, a copy of the very book her mother had just stolen from her hands. A Match of Great Consequence. She had just told him the day before that she would be reading it today.
He smiled at her, a look so genuinely happy that for the briefest moment, she paused to admire him. He set the book down on the quilt and removed his jacket, draping it lazily on the quilt beside him. “I found it at the circulating library this morning with the intention to read with you,” he said, pulling on his cravat to loosen it slightly. “I didn’t think I would find you with a mathematics volume instead.”
“I only chose the mathematics volume because…” she stopped herself, looking away from his expectant expression. She was not about to tell him she had been too distracted to read what she really wanted to read, all because of him and his charming smiles and their refusal to leave her mind. “Because I knew my mother would disapprove. If she had her way, I would be sitting indoors away from the sunlight, practicing my needlepoint and pianoforte and French, staying far away from my imagination.”
He sprawled onto his back, propping his hand behind his head as he looked up at the clouds. “But instead you are out of doors practicing your insults on the next Earl of Coventry, with whom you are fraternizing alone, who is also a secret smuggler who brought you a second copy of that dreaded book.”
Grace couldn’t help but smile. “Precisely. I am the daughter every mother desires.”
“I would not venture to say that.” He turned his head toward her, and she had to stop herself from staring at the muscle in his arm that bent near his head, more visible now without his jacket. “But I would venture to say you are the woman every man desires.”
She turned her gaze heavenward, shaking her head. Would he ever stop? “We must agree upon something right now, if you wish to remain tolerable.”
Half his mouth lifted at the corner. “And what is that?”
“No flirting.”
He laughed, as if her request were nothing short of ridiculous.
And impossible.
He sat up, fixing her with an intent gaze. “Not even once we are married?”
“Stop that!” She wished she could slap the broadening smile off his face. Or kiss it. The contradiction both frustrated and confused her.
He released a heavy sigh of regret. “I cannot make a promise of it, but for your sake I will try.”
“Good.”
“But I do have a request to make of you in exchange.”
She eyed him with misgiving. “Yes?”
“That after today you consider me a friend. Nothing less. I do enjoy spending time with you, Grace.”
Her heart flipped at his casual use of her name, mingled with the intensity of his gaze. “But we mustn’t do away with the formalities of miss and lord.”
He grinned from his place on the ground, looking far too comfortable and at ease, while she felt her growing attraction to him unsettling to say the least. “I cannot think of you as Miss Grace any longer. Not after you have spoken so freely with me.” He shook his head ever so slightly. “Devil.”
Grace resisted the urge to laugh again, proud of herself for remaining so composed. “Very well. A friend. But nothing more either.”
“If you insist.” He grinned up at her as she stood, brushing grass from her skirts.
She watched him carefully. Why was he still smiling? She had once again declared her disinterest in marrying him.
With quick steps she approached him, bending down to snatch his copy of A Match of Great Consequence, turning her back to him. “I hope you do not care if I borrow this.”
“Where are you going?” he asked in an exasperated voice.
“Inside. If my mother saw us alone, she would ensure that our friendship quickly became its own ‘match of great consequence.’”
He chuckled. “But when may I see you again?”
She turned halfway toward him, one eyebrow raised. “I suspect you will find a way without my assistance.”
“You are right. But I must see you as soon as possible, for I will need your assistance with a different matter. I need your help finding me a new match.”
Grace’s stomach twisted. Nothing sounded worse than watching Lord Ramsbury win the heart of an unassuming woman without any effort at all. It could happen easily—he did not need her assistance.
Her chest tightened with jealousy and regret, and she hated herself for it. Lord Ramsbury had fooled her again. He had made her feel special for a short while, entertaining himself with her, gaining a firm grip on her heart. Perhaps his intentions to marry her were real, but she couldn’t believe he would ever love her, and she was in great danger of falling in love with him.
Without realizing it, she allowed her concerns to slip into her facial expression, her brows drawing together. She quickly corrected it. But not before Lord Ramsbury noticed.
“You are allowed to volunteer yourself as my match,” he said in a reassuring voice.
She threw him a look of dismay that made him laugh. “Good day, my lord. She turned toward the house, eager to escape and realign her strange emotions.
“Good day, Grace,” he called.
She gave him one final glance over her shoulder, squinting against the sun. He didn’t seem intent to move from his place under the tree. Where had Harriett gone? If she had taken any part in Lord Ramsbury’s appearance on their property then she would have a thorough explanation to make.
Grace walked past the gardens and through the door, stopping when she found her sister, leaned against the windowsill with a mischievous smile.
“Harriett!” Grace said, her jaw dropping. “Were you watching that entire time?”
“Yes.” Her voice was giddy as she turned away from the window. “Oh, Grace, why can you not see how well suited you are?”
“You sound very much like me. Are you feeling well?”
Harriett groaned. “How can you say you do not like him? It is all right if you do.”
“I do,” Grace said in a quiet voice as she moved in front of the window, making no attempt to hide the trut
h. She gave a soft smile as she watched him take the mathematics book into his lap, flipping through the pages. “And that is the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because he is only pretending.” Grace gave her sister a rueful glance, pretending that it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
“You do not know that for certain.”
Harriett was right—it wasn’t certain. But it was probable. And Grace didn’t dare risk her heart for a slight chance. Pretending to despise him was much safer. “I will need to know for certain that he is genuine. Until then, I cannot allow myself to feel anything for him. I made that mistake before. At any rate, I don’t think he will propose again. He asked me to assist him in finding a new woman for him to pursue.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.” Grace handed her sister the rose she had taken from the gardens. The disappointment in Harriett’s eyes matched the feeling in Grace’s heart, biting and stabbing, creating permanent marks. Grace couldn’t begin to understand the array of things she felt—jealousy, anger, fear… elation, delight, amusement, all tied to one man. How was it possible to feel so much at once? How could one person inspire so much inner turmoil?
“Are you going to help him find a new match?” Harriett asked.
“I don’t see a reason not to.”
Harriett raised her eyebrows. “Because you want him for yourself?”
“I do not.” Even Grace heard the rising pitch to her own voice—evidence of a lie.
She scowled out the window as Harriett laughed. Lord Ramsbury stood, leaving the book behind on the quilt, stretching his back.. He draped his jacket over his arm, glancing back at the house as he walked away.
With a shriek, Grace ducked below the window before he could see her spying. Harriett crouched down beside her, fresh giggles racking her petite frame. “You do.”
Letting out a long sigh, Grace didn’t even bother denying it.
“Perhaps some distance from Lord Ramsbury will help to clarify your thoughts,” Harriet said. “Would you accompany me to the shops of town? If you are to take all of my pin money for the next several months I would like to have a hand in what you purchase with it.”
“Oh, Harriett. Mama and Papa spoke to me today. Their debts are extensive, and they urged me to take the prospect of marriage more seriously. I suspect they will speak to you of it soon as well. They feel they cannot sustain us much longer. Our pin money could very well be gone.”
Harriett’s face twisted in shock. “Is the situation truly so dire?”
“I’m afraid so. They seemed quite anxious over the matter, especially Mama. They said we might have to remove to a smaller home outside of Brighton. I hope you will consider William more seriously.”
“If the matter is so urgent, then what is keeping you from accepting Lord Ramsbury?”
Grace sighed. “I will not sacrifice being loved for anything. A loveless marriage would be worse than a life of poverty.”
Harriett grimaced. “You would not even sacrifice it for limitless hats and gowns and slippers?”
“No.”
The skin between Harriett’s eyebrows pinched. “I suppose I wouldn’t either. But to have both would be ideal.” Her face slowly lifted back into a smile, dispelling the anxiety that hovered in the air. “So… shall we visit the shops? Even if we cannot purchase anything, it would be a welcome diversion.”
Grace sighed. The shops did not brighten her mood the way they did Harriett’s. But they would indeed be a welcome distraction. She could only hope distance from Lord Ramsbury would give her thoughts and heart the clarity she sought.
CHAPTER 10
“I believe another proposal is in order,” Edward said as he walked through the entry hall of Clemsworth. He had caught Henry on his way out of the house, eager to discuss his progress concerning Grace.
Edward had seen the envy in her eyes when he had spoken of other women. He had leapt from barely tolerable to a friend in just one day. By the end of the week he would take the leap to potential husband without any problem at all.
“Do you really think she will give you the answer you hope for?” Henry’s voice was filled with doubt.
“Well—no.” Edward rubbed his jaw. Even if she was developing feelings for him, she was still far too stubborn. “I may need more time. Yes. I will find a way to see her tomorrow. She still acts as if my very presence is insulting.” He laughed. “And she has a complete inability to hide a single thing she wishes to say. She enjoys reading more than anything else, and I found the book she has been reading at the circulating library and brought it to her. She stole it from my hands as if it belonged to her, and then marched away from me.” His face had sprung into a full smile as he relayed the morning to his brother, who had now fixed him with a look of amusement.
“You are falling in love with her.”
Edward scoffed. “I am not.”
Leaning against the banister, Henry raised one eyebrow. “You are. And what is wrong with that?”
Edward could think of many things wrong with that. Her rejections would begin to hurt. His game would not longer be only a game. If he lost his heart all over again, he would never recover. The ability to be in control of his emotions had been a battle his entire life. He couldn’t lose now.
“I am not falling in love with her,” Edward said, a firmness in his voice, as if he were trying to convince himself more than Henry.
“You denial means nothing, brother. I see it in your eyes.”
“What do you know of love?” Edward snapped. “Have you ever felt it?”
Henry sighed, starting toward the door again. “I haven’t. But if I do I will be wise enough to fight for it. I will not take it with a lazy hand, one that could be disarmed at any moment.”
Edward watched as Henry gripped the door handle, turning to offer a final remark. A heaviness settled in his gaze. “But if you are determined to marry Miss Grace, you ought to hurry. Papa’s health is declining rapidly. You might consider visiting his room. Mama must rest and Juliet refuses to leave his side.”
Edward nodded, his jaw tightening. “I will go see him. How long would you determine he has to live?”
“A week, perhaps two. The physician said as much upon his last visit.”
A fold of anxiety blossomed in Edward’s chest as Henry left the house.
He made his way to his father’s bedchamber, stopping in the doorway, concealed from view. His mother sat in a chair beside her husband. She leaned over the bed, her elbow pressed into the mattress with her head resting on her hand. Juliet sat beside her, a frown pinching her youthful face.
Edward’s heart stung at the sight, and at the detachment he felt to his father. It filled him with more sorrow to see the pain in his mother’s face than it did to know his father would soon die. He wished the relationship he had shared with his uncle had been the same with his father. But his father had always had a very gruff exterior, never softening for anything. Edward had seen the same desperation in Juliet’s face that he had felt as a young boy, always waiting to be noticed and loved.
Walking into the room, Edward placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder, startling her. “Sorry, Mama,” he whispered. His father lay asleep, a paleness to his face that Edward had never seen. “You must go, rest, breathe fresh air. It is not well for you or Juliet to be here all hours of the day.”
She rubbed her eyes, clutching his hand as she stood up.
“Edward,” Juliet’s clear voice cut the air. “Must I leave too?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I must insist. You need to go play, explore,” he tapped her nose, “and smile.”
Her large blue eyes settled on her father once again. “I will be back soon, Papa,” she said, though he couldn’t possibly have heard her.
Edward stared down at his father, his lungs filling with apprehension. It had only been a matter of days since he had been in the room discussing his disinheritance, and already his father appeared muc
h worse. His skin emitted a grayish hue, his breathing rapid and shallow as he slept. His illness had begun to consume all his organs, his very life and breath. A stab of grief hit Edward squarely in the chest. It surprised him.
Without warning, his father’s eyes flew open, blinking as he surveyed his surroundings. His gaze found Edward, settling on his face with recognition.
“Why are you here?” he rasped.
“I thought I might spend a moment with my ailing father.”
He grunted, rolling to one side as he searched for the handkerchief beside his pillow. He coughed into it, a wet, painful sound. He smacked his lips, drawing the reddened handkerchief away from his mouth. “You ought to be spending all your hours with that Miss Weston. Your mother told me much concerning her.”
Edward hesitated. “What did she say?”
“She said Miss Grace seems the perfect match for you.” His father’s words were slurred.
Edward laughed, dropping his chin to his chest. “Miss Grace does not seem to agree, unfortunately. She refused my first proposal and does not seem inclined to ever accept me.”
His father’s gaze intensified, growing clearer and more aware. “Your mother also said you were becoming the man you used to be. Determined, indomitable, joyful, and a bit more intelligent in your decisions. If Miss Grace has played any part in this, you ought to leave my side and find her at once. You have little to lose in proposing a second time.”
“The man I used to be?” Edward bristled. What could his father mean by that?
“Yes. Before my brother died. Before you lost yourself.”
Edward’s jaw clenched. If only his father knew the role he had played in that change. After his uncle had died Edward had become a young man without a father to guide him, lost in grief. He had found a place in society, earning a reputation as a shameless flirt, and later, after Miss Buxton’s rejection, an indolent and careless gambler and drunk. His father had done nothing to help him. If he had reached out a hand even once, Edward might have stopped his downward plunge. He might have seen the light again.
Only when he had met Grace—the true Grace—had he again determined to find the true version of himself. He wanted to be a man like his uncle. Honorable, kind, selfless, determined. When he was with Grace he couldn’t help but tease her, but he also couldn’t help but strive harder to be a better man. Only a better man would ever deserve a woman like Grace Weston. He shook his mind of her intelligent brown eyes, smirking lips, and fierce eyebrows.
Romancing Lord Ramsbury: A Regency Romance (Brides of Brighton Book 3) Page 12