Aubrey grinned a devious grin. “I knew it!”
“Aubrey!”
“I won’t tell, I won’t tell,” he insisted raising his hands in surrender. “I read the latest issue, and I loved every line in it. I have no desire to see that disrupted.” He cocked his head slightly. “How can you be called the Spinsters when half of you are married?”
Grace smirked. “Less than half, if you count Elinor, which most do. And Spinsters is with a capital S, as in the writers of the Chronicles. Marital status notwithstanding, we are all Spinsters with a capital S.”
“And who decided the marital status rule?” Aubrey prodded, though she suspected he already knew.
“Georgie, of course.”
“Of course.” He suddenly chuckled and dropped his head back on the couch. “What would you wager that she’s the one who got to your father?”
Grace slumped against her corner of the couch finally, suddenly out of breath at the thoughts. “I’d say it’s more than likely.”
“What would you wager, Grace?”
She rolled her head to look at him. “I am not wagering on my friends or on my father. Wagering would be a fault.”
He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. “Spoilsport. That would explain everything, though. Why would he even think of me for this? It had to be a suggestion. Which would mean that list wasn’t truly a list of candidates, but a ploy to get me to accept. It’s far more devious than I would have thought Trenwick capable of.”
Grace frowned at him. “My father is never devious. He is perfectly straightforward about everything.”
Aubrey lifted his hand and stared at Grace. “Hence, Georgie.”
It did sound rather like her, and given her behavior only earlier today…
It would be best for Georgie to enter her confinement very, very soon. In the country. Out of London.
Grace exhaled in irritation, then sat up once more. “Tell me who was on the list.”
“Why?” Aubrey asked rather bluntly. “It’s a moot point now, and if our hypothesis is correct, they were not truly feasible.”
“But you didn’t know that at the time,” Grace reminded him. “I want to know who could possibly be horrifying enough that you would agree to find faults in me.”
Aubrey pushed himself up on the couch, grinning outright. “Well, I don’t anticipate finding many faults in you, so it should be fairly easy on my part, which I approve of entirely.”
“You’re too generous,” she muttered with a smile.
He inclined his head in all sincerity. “But if you truly want to know who the alternatives were…”
“I do.”
“Try not to scream.”
“I never scream.”
His grin turned a peculiar shade of evil that she didn’t trust at all. “You will, Miss Morledge. You will.” He tossed a pillow at her, barely avoiding a collision with her face. “Here’s this for when you do.”
“Oh, really, Aubrey,” she moaned, taking the pillow and putting it in her lap. “I associate with Lady Hetty, I hardly think anyone could be much scarier than her.”
“She was the very first name on the list.”
Grace went wide-eyed, swallowed, then brought the pillow to her face and screamed into its depths.
“So, what will you tell people?”
Aubrey glanced over at Grace as he walked with her in the garden of Trenwick House, keeping his hands behind his back. “About?”
She gave him a brief, dark look. “This, Aubrey. People gossip, and I highly doubt you are going to want the rumor going around that you are courting me.”
“Well, I would only be so fortunate,” he replied pompously, bowing very deeply.
Grace scoffed. “Please, be honest.”
Aubrey straightened and exhaled. “Honestly? I haven’t the foggiest. Your father says we’ll figure something out, but I’m afraid of what that means.”
“As am I.” Her brow furrowed, and she twirled the handle of her parasol in her hands. “Could you be calling upon James? Renewing an old friendship?”
A powerful shudder coursed through him, and he made a face. “That would require me to be seen with him in public, would it not?”
Grace smirked, her dark eyes flashing with a hint of mischief he found quite becoming. “Undoubtedly.”
Aubrey shook his head firmly. “Pass. No offense, Grace, but James is as useful as shaving soap for an infant. Surely we can come up with something better.”
She bit back a laugh, which made Aubrey grin. For all his memories of Grace as a child, he couldn’t ever recall her being so warm and charming and… real. There were absolutely no airs about her, and she was well aware how ridiculous certain members of her family were, as well as the oddity of her situation. Yet never once had he detected any pity for herself or bitterness about any of it.
Which made his task even more bizarre, and her unmarried state bewildering to the extreme.
“Then you must resign yourself to being my father’s apprentice,” Grace told him with a shrug of her dainty shoulders. “No one would believe anything else.”
Given the choice between two evils of equal measure, how was one to proceed?
Perhaps a faux courtship wouldn’t be so bad…
No, no, that was impossible. Tony Sterling alone would be intolerable, and it would not be fair to Grace to pretend at such a thing to save them both and then to have it dissolve when his task was finished. Gossips were notoriously brutal, and she was far too good for that.
“Would anyone have to see me with your father?” he asked with a wince.
“Of course not. Father never goes out into Society.”
Aubrey exhaled in a rush of relief. “Then I will allow it.”
Grace gave him a sidelong look, which he caught and returned warily. “What?” he asked.
She bit her lip very briefly. “I’m wondering if I should tell you something that might make you scream.”
“I never scream,” Aubrey insisted with a firm shake of his head. “I retain control of my emotions and reactions at all times.”
Grace raised a brow. “My father once had aspirations for you as a son-in-law.”
Aubrey yelped before he could help himself, then cleared his throat quickly as Grace laughed in a rather throaty manner. “That was not a scream.”
“No, indeed,” she laughed. “It was a yelp. Rather like my aunt’s lapdog used to emit. Or a child being surprised.”
“I never promised not to yelp,” he grumbled, running a hand over his hair. “How the devil do you know he wanted me in the family?”
Grace waved a hand. “Oh, he used to discuss it at dinner when I was a child.”
Aubrey blinked. “He was trying to pair you with me when you were a child?”
“Not me, silly. Anne.”
Now Aubrey was floored. “Why was he discussing matchmaking for Anne at the dinner table when we were all children?”
Grace twirled her parasol again, looking ahead in a thoughtful manner. “He used to discuss everything he wished for any of us at the dinner table. Michael’s profession, James’s studies, Mama’s social agenda…”
This was too impossible to believe. Trenwick might have been many things, but Aubrey would hardly consider him a tyrant. Yet he could not consider Grace a liar. It must have been simply a misconstrued memory of a child, as was so easily done.
He pursed his lips. “But Anne and I?”
Grace looked at him in surprise. “It’s not that impossible to imagine. Even I thought there would be something between the two of you, and Father’s plans had nothing to do with it.”
“Did you?” Aubrey thought on that, surprised by the idea. Well, perhaps not surprised as much as caught off-guard. Then again, he and Anne were of an age, and they had spent a great deal of their childhood time together.
Why shouldn’t that have been a thought?
“Was it really so unlikely?” Grace asked, her voice careful.
Aubrey shook his head. “
No, I suppose not. Perhaps there was a time I wondered about more than friendship, but I never seriously considered it, and as far as I know, neither did she.”
Again, the parasol spun. Did she realize she was doing that? Particularly when she was thinking?
“But she wrote to you,” Grace reminded him, “and you to her.”
Her statement made Aubrey chuckle as memories flooded back. “Yes, we wrote to each other, but there was nothing romantic about it.” He looked at Grace with a crooked smile. “I believe we fought in our letters more than anything else. You know how combative Anne can be.”
She returned his smile with a blinding one of her own, and it seemed his eyes had trouble adjusting to its brilliance. Thankfully, it faded quickly, and his eyesight was restored.
“Oh, yes,” she replied in a softer tone. “I do know.”
Aubrey stepped closer in an obvious motion. “Please tell me you are about to divulge some long-hidden stories about your sister and your childhood.”
She pushed him away halfheartedly. “There’s really very little to tell!” she protested with her own laugh. “You were there for most of the instances.”
“Was I really?”
“Surely you aren’t so unobservant.”
“Boys of a certain age have very selective memories.” He shrugged helplessly. “I could more likely tell you the outcome of a game of soldiers and what I had for supper following such a game than I could about fights between neighboring girls.”
Grace looked bemused for a moment. “Even the time when you helped her tie me to a tree?”
Aubrey put a hand to his chest and coughed in shock. “I beg your pardon! I would most certainly remember doing such a thing, if I had participated in such antics. And I do not remember anything of the sort.”
Grace rolled her eyes and twirled her parasol. “Right…”
“I don’t!” Aubrey insisted, turning serious. “Did I really do that?”
She nodded once. “You did. You even told Anne how to improve her knots so that I had even less chance of escaping.”
He shook his head repeatedly. “No, now I know that you are having me on. I am abysmal with knots of any kind, and I am quite sure your sister could do better.”
“She did, and you were furious.”
Aubrey laughed and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “I would be if Anne bested me in any way. I still don’t recall being so horrid to you.”
“You weren’t,” Grace murmured, her voice dipping. “Anne was horrid. She wanted to leave me overnight and was quite serious about doing so. You insisted I was too young to be left there all night. The pair of you had a rousing fight, and she took off running. You chased her for a bit, then came back and cut my bindings with some kitchen shears you’d swiped from the cook.” She smiled over at him in an almost tender fashion. “It really was quite dashing to a girl of six.”
Whatever power he thought her blinding smile had, it could not hold a candle to this one.
Where were his lungs, exactly? He’d had them a moment ago, and they had seemed to be functioning properly…
“A dashing boy of, what, ten?” he managed without his lungs participating in any way.
Grace lifted a shoulder in a shrug, looking away. “Roughly, I suppose.”
Freed from her smile, his lungs reappeared in their proper place, and he took a moment to appreciate the glories of inhalation and exhalation. “What a pleasant thought,” he said, trying for a carefree tone. “A gentleman even then.”
“A gentleman who is now going to find my faults,” Grace quipped as she closed her parasol and tipped her head back to lift her face to the sun. “And don’t you dare call this a fault, Aubrey Flint.”
He wasn’t about to. He couldn’t have done so.
Damnation, he would need to start eating a heartier breakfast before venturing to Trenwick House. He was starting to hallucinate Grace as a fairy of sorts, and it was most disconcerting.
“It’s Lord Ingram now, remember?” he told her in a shockingly weak voice.
She shook her head, eyes closed, still sunbathing her face. “Your father will always be Lord Ingram to me. You are simply Aubrey Flint, and likely always will be.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he liked that.
He liked it very much.
He cleared his throat and moved to the nearby bush, kicking at its roots lightly. “I promise not to find fault until our next meeting. I’m not even sure where to begin, honestly.”
Grace cracked open an eye. “That wasn’t spelled out extensively for you upon your acceptance of the assignment?”
Aubrey snorted once. “No, and there were no preparation materials, either.”
“What a shame.” She closed her eye and sighed into the sunshine. “It’s as if he had no idea what to do and is looking for you to figure it out all on your own. Poor Aubrey.”
“Oh, stop,” he protested dryly. “I don’t need pity or sympathy, or anything mocking those things either.”
Her chin dipped in an almost nod. “Duly noted, sir.”
“And don’t call me sir.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Grace…”
She opened her eyes and brought her face down from its sun worship, looking fairly smug. “Aubrey, don’t throw a barb if you cannot take one.”
He bit back a laugh and looked at her with newfound appreciation. “Miss Morledge, are you the sort of woman who engages in provoking behavior and bantering for sport?”
Grace tilted her head in impertinence, clasping her hands behind her back. “Would that be considered a flaw?”
“Not today.”
She raised her brows at that, but he only grinned in response. “Is it going to be like this the entire time?” she asked in a far different tone than when she had asked it earlier.
“Absolutely,” Aubrey replied with more confidence and certainty than he’d ever admitted anything in his life.
“Good.” Grace stepped forward and held her hand out as if to shake his. “Then I think we have discovered a painless way to find my faults, Lord Ingram.”
Cheeky creature, she was quite a wonder.
But she was not about to have the upper hand, in this or in anything else. Aubrey took her hand, shook, then raised it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Indeed, Miss Morledge. Indeed.”
As if to prove her perfection, she rolled her eyes and tugged her hand away, turning for the house. “You are impossible.”
He jogged to catch up with her. “I am, I freely admit it.”
“I have no idea why anyone sees a creature of sense in you.”
“I never said they did.”
Grace stopped and looked at him, eyes narrowed. “What makes you qualified to find my faults, then?”
“Not a thing,” he shot back.
Her lips curled into a smirk of a smile. “Perfect. You’ll do.” And with that proclamation, she strode into the house, apparently not caring if he followed.
But he did follow, and he did so without hesitation.
He was dying to see what else Grace would do that might surprise him.
Which was surprising in and of itself.
Chapter Eight
When in doubt of a particular course of action, it is sometimes advisable to consult with others and take the consensus thereof into consideration. Provided, of course, that a consensus can be found, and that those questioned are creatures of sense. There is nothing worse than poorly given advice from those who know nothing at all.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 15 April 1816
“And then we will remain at Hazelwood for the duration of the Season, and likely into the fall.”
“So long?”
Georgie looked at Elinor in wry amusement. “I am having a baby, Elinor. I don’t think it very likely that I shall be travelling, or even have the desire to do so, for quite some time. But you are all welcome to Hazelwood after the baby is born.”
Grace smirked at that. “Tony won�
�t mind?”
“Who cares if Tony minds?” Charlotte asked as she jotted something onto her paper. “He would only be so fortunate to have us come to tend on Georgie and his child. He might manage to go for a ride or hunt or some other manly pursuits.”
Izzy shook her head and gave them all a long-suffering look. “What are you writing, Charlotte?”
“Yes, Izzy is the writer, so what are you doing?” Edith queried with a raised brow.
Charlotte glanced up at the Scottish beauty with a scowl. “I’m anticipating the number of issues of the Chronicles we will be down a writer and trying to figure out who can make up the difference.” She turned her attention to Izzy. “Would Kitty be available to come and write again? Or would that set off a marital spat between you and Sebastian?”
Georgie coughed weakly. “Charlotte!”
Izzy, however, was not perturbed. “It would be perfectly fine, and I think Kitty would adore the opportunity, but is it necessary?”
Edith frowned, her brow wrinkling. “I haven’t written a full article for the Chronicles yet. I can certainly manage to do so for the duration of Georgie’s confinement.”
“Yes, why not do that?” Prue looked at Charlotte hopefully. “Then Kitty will not have to be troubled. And we do manage to submit articles even when we are away from London, you know.”
“But it delays our publication!” Charlotte cried. “And the number of issues lessen!”
Grace sighed heavily. “Which tends to make sense when people are out of London. Fewer people in town mean fewer who will read it. Why are you so suddenly working with a head for business, hmm?”
Charlotte went slightly slack-jawed, then returned to her scribbling, muttering incoherently under her breath.
Grace looked at the others, and they all shared the same look, except for Elinor, who appeared just as concerned as Charlotte. There was just no explaining either of them, and it never failed to amuse her.
She eyed Georgie as she sat in her chair, looking more than a trifle uncomfortable in her growing state. It was good they would be departing London soon, but only if she would truly rest when they got to Hazelwood. Tony would have to mind her carefully there. Or perhaps recruit Miranda to come in and see to Georgie.
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