“Oh…”
Grace felt her lungs give in despair, and she bit back a whimper. But she could not ignore him, not for politeness and not for her own needs. She opened her eyes and looked over at him as she resumed the removal of her pelisse.
He stared at her with round eyes, frank in his gaze and as stunned to see her as she was him. There was a small comfort in that, she supposed. “Good morning,” he belatedly said.
Grace swallowed once and dipped her chin. “My lord.”
She saw his face tighten at the formality, but he had no quip to reply with. He simply stared, and so did she. The air between them grew thick and tense, something that made her wary and alert, unsure how it would proceed, or what she ought to do.
The maid took Grace’s pelisse from her and bobbed, disappearing quickly down the corridor.
Fortunate girl.
Aubrey cleared his throat. “Are the Spinsters meeting here today?” he asked, his voice as taut as the rest of him. “I thought you normally meet at Charlotte’s.”
She nodded, determined to maintain the politeness he was pretending at. “We normally do, yes. Mrs. Wright had arranged a gathering of her friends today, unaware that we were to meet, and so Prue kindly offered to host us.”
“Ah.” He clasped his hands behind his back, still staring.
Oh, but this was painful. “And what brings you here?”
Aubrey gestured to the house faintly, his lips forming an almost-smile that seemed unnatural. “I have a meeting with Mr. Vale.”
“About what?”
“Estate management.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Cam’s not very serious.”
“Neither am I.”
“True.”
They stared at each other, blinking, barely breathing, Grace felt exposed and awkward, laid bare for him to see. She had the most intense desire to fold her arms, cover herself, and become smaller. Suddenly, she could recall the taste of him on her lips, and to her horror, her cheeks began a slow burn that would soon be visible.
She had to leave, and leave now.
“Well, I’d best not be late,” she said in a rush. “The others will talk. Good day, Lord Ingram.” She gave him the briefest curtsey known to man, and rushed off, frantically wondering if she remembered the way to the drawing room.
Why hadn’t someone come to show her the way? Or had the maid indicated that she should follow, and Grace had been too stupidly engrossed in Aubrey’s arrival to pay any attention?
Thankfully, Prue appeared just then, and beamed at her. “Grace! I was afraid you would become lost in the house, so I thought I’d better come in search of you.”
Grace could have gone to her knees in gratitude before her friend but settled for smiling with all the relief in the world. “A few moments more, and I might have been, but I trust I have been correct so far.”
Prue nodded and came to take her arm. “You have, indeed! I wanted to keep things comfortable for us, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Grace assured her, putting her hand over Prue’s. “Am I the last to arrive?”
“You are, but only just.” Prue smiled almost mischievously up at her. “Elinor had to beg off. She must have tea with her sister today, and she is most put out about it.”
Grace chuckled, feeling more natural the more time she spent in Prue’s company. “It is undoubtedly for the best that we are spared the ordeal of her tirade, then.”
“Whose tirade?” Charlotte asked as the two of them entered the room. “Not mine, I hope.”
Prue gave her a look as she released Grace’s arms. “No, dear, we are used to yours. We were speaking of Elinor.”
Charlotte waved a hand and snorted dismissively. “That child will turn into a right termagant if she does not mind herself.”
“Oh, be nice,” Izzy insisted in her usual way.
Grace exhaled slowly as she took a seat next to Edith. The longer the focus of conversation could avoid her, she would be quite pleased to take part in any way she could. She could not deny that she was still rattled from encountering Aubrey in the foyer, but it needn’t live in the front of her mind for the rest of the day.
She would be free to dwell on it extensively after all of this.
“Are you all right, lass?” Edith asked very softly as she sipped her tea. “You look a little flushed.”
Grace bit back one of the more colorful curses she had learned from Aubrey and fought a scowl. “I knew it. I just knew it, and he would have seen it, which means he knows…”
Edith nudged her quickly. “Hush now. Don’t let them hear.” She eyed the others quickly, smiling at something Prue said. “He being… him?”
Grace nodded once, forcing her lips to smile, though they would much have preferred to grimace or scowl. “Him.”
“He’s here?”
Again, Grace barely nodded. “Meeting with Cam.”
Edith sipped her tea again, taking her time to do so and swallowing. “Something’s happened, has it?”
Something. Yes, something had indeed. A very great, very magical, very confusing something. Something that had changed her life, changed her perspective, something that had changed… her.
Something she was afraid to consider the ramifications of. Something that utterly terrified and excited her. Something that she greatly feared would not mean as much to him as it had to her. Something that would change everything between them.
Something.
Slowly, Grace dipped her chin once more, a faint tremor beginning a slow trickle across her skin. She inhaled with it, an accompanying shuddering exhale shortly following.
“Oh, Grace,” Edith murmured in a sympathetic tone. “It’s all over your face.”
“I know,” she whispered, raising a hand to her suddenly feverish cheek. “I’m going mad, Edith.”
Her friend reached over and squeezed her hand tightly. “We’re all a little mad at times.”
She had to smile a little at that. “I cannot bear questions today. I can’t…”
“Then let’s take the focus from him and make your blushes about something else,” Edith insisted. “Your father, perhaps.”
“I haven’t seen my father in days.”
“Perfect.” Edith cleared her throat and set down her teacup. “So, your father isn’t supervising these fault-finding sessions?” she asked in a louder tone, drawing the attention of others.
Suddenly, every eye was on Grace, and she felt the weight of it. She shook her head quickly. “No. No, in fact, he hasn’t seen a moment of it.”
“I hope you’ve given thanks for that appropriately,” Charlotte remarked easily, resting her head in one hand. “The idea of him watching over the pair of you as a second set of eyes like a hawk is a disturbing one.”
Grace shuddered and drummed her fingers on the armrest beside her. “It would make things so much worse. I would never manage to be myself if he were there.”
Izzy shook her head, sighing with sympathy. “Under the circumstances, you really must be as close to yourself as possible. It would not be a fair evaluation otherwise.”
“It’s not exactly a fair evaluation now, is it?” Charlotte retorted with a furrowed brow. “The poor thing is on display at any given moment. Any moment Aubrey is around, she could be being evaluated.”
His name sent a jolt into Grace’s fingers, and she splayed those fingers impulsively, straining to rid them of the sensation, and of him.
Prue looked at Grace with concern. “Surely, Aubrey doesn’t look for faults in you all the time. He wouldn’t, w-would he?”
What could she say? What should she say? How could she know what Aubrey thought while they were together? If he spotted faults when she wasn’t exactly being examined?
If he found faults when he kissed her…
“I don’t know,” she admitted at last, smiling very weakly. “I honestly do not know.”
Why was she here? Why was she h
ere?
He was here. He was meeting with Camden Vale, and he had expressly wished to do so at the Vale residence because he knew that it would be a Spinster meeting day, and therefore no one would be about to remind him of Grace.
Now she was in the same blasted building, and she had blushed at their distinctly uncomfortable meeting in the foyer. That blush that drove him mad, made her skin glow, made him wild to kiss her, and knowing what an experience kissing her was, made the wanting all the greater. Yet he could barely speak a word to her, let alone step in her direction.
He should have thought of this when he kissed her the other day. How it would change everything between them, how awkward and self-conscious he would feel when seeing her again, never mind what she must have felt. How torn he would feel between grinning at her and apologizing for kissing her, not because he regretted it, but because of how it altered everything.
He couldn’t regret kissing her. Would not do so. It had been a glorious thing of beauty and upheaval, so much so that even the thought of it now thrust giddiness into every one of his limbs.
Aubrey had felt shy, even. Of all things he had ever felt in his life, shyness had never been one of them. But he’d also never been in this situation before, having kissed a woman who in return had kissed him senseless, and then having to continue on associating with her repeatedly and feeling at a loss for how to do so. How did he pick up the pieces of the friendship they had formed after that?
Or did he?
The strangest feeling of loss had settled into the pit of his stomach, and he hadn’t found a way to rid himself of the painful sensation.
How did any man of sense behave as such under these circumstances?
He blinked and forced himself to pay attention to what Cam was saying, looking over the layout of the Vales’ estate in Hertfordshire. Gableshead was, by all accounts, a gorgeous estate, and wouldn’t require all that much to improve its productivity. If Aubrey could focus on the task, he could tell Cam exactly what he would suggest.
The trouble was that he couldn’t remember what he’d already said, or how Cam had responded.
“And the steward believes the farms will prosper,” Cam was saying, “provided we give them half a chance and keep them stocked enough. My wife’s aunt spent many years listening to poor advisors who routed money into their own pockets instead of distributing it as they ought. We were quick to dismiss all of them, and as my wife cares nothing for riches, she insists a majority of funds be diverted back into the farms.”
Aubrey found himself nodding absently, then earnestly as the words sank in. “It would certainly be a measure of good faith for the tenants, though I would advise against a sum so generous that it cannot be salvaged, should the farms not progress as hoped.”
Cam grinned at him, a surprisingly cocky grin, considering their conversation. “I agree, which is why I was careful to never settle on exact sums with my wife.”
The strategy made Aubrey laugh and he nodded his approval. “Very wise, very wise. But why not just do as you like with it? Upon your marriage, did the funds not become yours?”
The amusement faded in Cam’s face and was replaced by a hard look that confirmed everything that Aubrey had heard about Camden Vale.
“No,” he said tersely, “nor would I have wished for it. My wife’s fortune was entirely hers, and I could not touch it. She determines every course of it.” There was a faint echo of his former smile then. “Except, of course, for when she needs saving from her own good heart. After all, there are lives depending on us, and that fortune keeps us all hale.”
It was a rare sort of speech from a man married to an heiress, but all in all, Aubrey approved of it, and he returned the faint smile with one of his own. “Fair enough. Balancing generosity with strategy would be the best course.”
Cam nodded, the hard edge all but fading from his features. “Agreed. There are minor renovations still needed on the house itself, but those can be done bit by bit, nothing to rush.”
“Probably for the best,” Aubrey replied, looking over the layouts. “You’ll want to be making some sort of profit before you get too extensive there. You said the east wing was the better of the two?”
They spent the next several minutes going over specific details about the estate itself, the renovations, and suggestions for improvement in general. Aubrey felt his mind grow sharper the more they discussed. He found new points to make and specifics to discuss for that express purpose.
Anything to keep his mind from wandering where it would do no good.
“Sounds as if you learned a lot with your own estate,” Cam commented as he turned to lean against the desk they had been poring over. “Was it so poorly off?”
Aubrey nodded, smiling without humor. “My father didn’t need corrupt advisors to make poor choices. He accomplished enough on his own. I nearly had to dismantle the entire estate. I think the house was the only thing in decent condition.” He snorted and shook his head. “I have done nothing else since completing my education, and the fact that there is nothing to tend to at the present leaves me a bit at odds as to what to do with myself.”
Cam made a sound somewhere between scoffing and laughing. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Aubrey looked over at him, raising a brow. When Cam didn’t go on, Aubrey matched his pose, leaning against the desk, folding his arms, and gesturing for the man to get on with it.
“I hear you are fault-finding,” Cam said, tone and expression unreadable. “Officially.”
Gads, how had he found out about that? Aubrey groaned and shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, not having a good time?” Cam made a mocking sympathetic sound. “I won’t say I’m not pleased by that. I don’t think you should have a good time of it.”
Aubrey scowled. “I didn’t exactly take this on for my own amusement. I never expected to enjoy it.”
“Oh good, so you’re not as much of an idiot as I thought.”
“Have you ever tried to find fault in perfection?” Aubrey demanded defensively, his folded arms tightening against him.
Cam grunted once. “Yes. It’s more fun that way.”
Aubrey shook his head very firmly. “Not this.”
“Why not?”
He heaved a sigh and looked straight ahead, his gaze finding various spines of books to rest upon. “There are no faults. There’s nothing to find. I’ve assessed topic after topic, anything I or the Spinsters could think of, and there is not one thing wrong with her.” He swallowed, suddenly fighting the rising tide of a strange sense of panic. “In fact, the harder I look, the more I…” His voice faded and he shook his head again, almost frantic this time.
“Uh oh,” Cam murmured slowly.
Aubrey jerked to look at him. “What?”
“I know that look,” Cam said with a wry smile. “I know it all too well.”
“What look?” he asked even as his insides began to twitch sporadically.
Cam chuckled and pushed off of his desk. “Oh, Lord Ingram. You need a drink. Or twelve.”
Aubrey scoffed easily, nearly sputtering, clearly overdoing his attempt at dismissal. “No, I don’t.”
That earned him a pitying, sardonic look. “You’re in love with Grace Morledge, and you promised to find faults for her father. You need all the drinks in the world for that.”
He was… what?
Startled laughter erupted from somewhere within him, which did nothing to the state of his internal organs or the set of his shoulders. “You’re mad.”
“That’s a given,” Cam replied as he continued to pour drinks, “but it doesn’t follow that I am also wrong. You don’t have to accept it yet, if you like. These things do take time.”
“Stop,” Aubrey laughed. “You’re growing more insane by the syllable.”
Cam ignored him and turned around, glasses in hand. “I myself took weeks to come ‘round to the idea, and longer to admit it to Prue. It’s extraordinary, after that has been
accomplished, you find you want to say it before and after every breath you take. Rather disconcerting for strong, robust men like us, but there it is.”
Aubrey gaped, feeling as though he should shake his head again, redundant though it would have been. What was this man going on about? What, exactly, had led him to believe that Aubrey could have been in love with Grace? He’d barely even mentioned her, other than his struggle with finding faults in her.
Anyone would have struggled with that. Even the codgers and crones Trenwick could have brought on would have had a hard time in this task. There wasn’t anything at all romantic in anything Aubrey had said.
Anything at all.
So long as he never gave a hint about the kiss he’d shared with her.
He inhaled impulsively, taking the glass from Cam and downing it in one gulp, wincing against the immediate burn he felt.
“That’s what I thought,” Cam affirmed, now smiling in full.
“What?” Aubrey coughed, wiping his mouth and handing his glass back. “I thought we agreed I needed a drink. I’ve never been the sort to sip mildly.”
Cam nodded, clearly not believing a single word Aubrey said. “Of course, of course. And it had nothing at all to do with you spending an extended amount of time unaccompanied in the presence of Grace Morledge.”
Well, when put like that…
He pictured Grace just as he had seen her this morning, only a short time ago. Simply adorned, natural in her beauty and elegance, and watching him with eyes he could have happily drowned in. He could have watched that tantalizingly slow blush creep across her skin with the same adoration one gave the sunrise, and it would strike him just as much.
Lord, what he wouldn’t give to have more time with her, not for finding fault or because he was assigned to be around her, but just to be. Knowing what she felt like against him, what she tasted like, how fervently she responded to his kiss, he could easily crave stolen moments for eternity.
“Nothing at all,” he retorted a hair too late to be convincing, wondering if he would be blushing soon.
Cam held the second drink out of Aubrey’s reach, raising a brow. “Say that you aren’t in love with Grace. Go on. Say the words.”
My Fair Spinster Page 20
