Chapter Twelve
Grace’s head was high, her mood light as she gracefully descended the staircase at Lord and Lady Tilden’s ball a few steps behind her aunt and sister. Determined to forget that she entered on the arm of the Earl of Huntwick, she winced only slightly when the haughty butler stationed at the top of the steps bellowed out their names, and six hundred pairs of eyes swiveled with open curiosity toward them.
As they neared the foot of the stairs, Trevor covered her small hand with his own large, warm one, lightly rubbing his thumb along her wrist. Resolutely ignoring the caress, Grace looked out across the sea of upturned faces to see if Amanda had arrived. She picked out the people here and there whom she knew and smiled a greeting at them. She deliberately pretended she did not see the incredulous looks dawning on their faces as they recognized the man who escorted her.
She had no idea of the real reasons for their surprise: although Trevor had accompanied many beautiful women to ton functions, seldom had he appeared with someone so new to town, and never had he focused his attention on a debutante. Of all this Grace remained blissfully unaware, never knowing that nearly any woman in the room would have happily traded places with her, never knowing that attending any function with the Earl of Huntwick was an event considered a chore only by herself. She was simply abiding by her agreement with Trevor to allow him to escort her to functions, and she was determined to enjoy herself.
Glancing down at the beautiful girl on his arm who had thus far thwarted his every attempt to forge a relationship, Trevor easily picked up on Grace’s good mood. His lips unconsciously curved into an appreciative smile at her appearance—a smile marked with glee by the other young eligibles present, and with increasing dismay by the many aspiring countesses in the room, for that smile held more than a hint of fond, possessive pride.
Grace was positively radiant. She wore a gown of deep sapphire silk that wrapped sumptuously around her upper body, the neckline square and low, the puffed sleeves practically nonexistent. The skirt fell in a straight line to the floor, elegantly simple, giving only a hint of the flawless figure hidden beneath the yards of rustling silk. Her burnished curls shone, piled in artful disarray at the top of her head, a strand of glittering sapphires the exact shade of her eyes woven through the gleaming mass. Her face was flushed with happiness and excitement as she turned and spoke with a young man her aunt had just introduced to her.
Trevor found it difficult to take his eyes off her. As he watched her friends, both male and female, come eagerly to greet her, he realized that, although he considered the endless round of parties and balls that typified the London Season simply a chance to conduct business, Grace embraced it with pure delight. She belonged here, he thought, among the most beautiful people in England, and knew, with great pride, that she would make a wonderful countess.
As though she could read Trevor’s thoughts, Grace turned away from Lord Grenelle, the young man with whom she conversed, and briefly allowed her eyes to meet his. Something about the way that he gazed at her, a poignant look of aching tenderness that came from deep within his fathomless jade eyes, reached out to her heart. She softened toward him long enough to give him a winsome smile before she remembered the reason she stood here with him. Her smile faded, and she turned her attention back to the viscount.
With a slight shake of his head, Trevor gave the would-be suitor a speaking look over the top of Grace’s head. He watched as Grenelle stammered an implausible excuse and abruptly took himself off, leaving Grace standing alone, perplexed. A scant second later she realized what Trevor had done. She gave him a scathing look and simply walked away, hoping he would not follow.
Trevor watched her leave, appreciating the natural, fluid way she moved, until the crowd of people around the dance floor swallowed her. He did not follow, for he wanted her to enjoy herself. Instead, knowing she would do her best to spar with him at every opportunity if he remained at her side, he had simply scrawled his name across one of the waltzes on her dance card, fully intending to leave her in the company of her aunt and sister while he played cards in one of the rooms Lord Tilden provided for his male guests, adjacent to the ballroom.
He had not realized just how difficult he would find it to leave the ballroom, however, as he caught sight of her again. He watched as the gentlemen began to flock around her like moths to a bright flame. He began to feel the first faint stirrings of jealousy, and was so caught up in watching her that he did not notice when an older, distinguished-looking gentleman approached him. Trevor almost flinched when the hearty gentleman began speaking in a booming baritone.
“It’s good to see you back in London, Hunt. Hoping I would find you here tonight. Didn’t know you’d taken to escorting the young butterflies. In the market for a wife, I suppose?” Lord Anthony Galesworthy peered nearsightedly across the room in the direction Trevor stared, but could see only a blur of brilliant blue surrounded by the deeper hues of gray, navy, and burgundy.
Galesworthy was among the men Trevor had hoped to see tonight. The well-to-do baron participated as a partner in many of the ventures in which Trevor himself had an interest. Trevor had wanted to discuss with him the same mining investment upon which he had already secured Sebastian’s agreement, but found himself completely unable to concentrate on the ensuing conversation. Twice he had to ask Galesworthy to repeat a question. Then, after giving him an answer that had nothing to do with mines, coal, or even investments, Trevor swore under his breath and rudely walked away. He swooped down on the unsuspecting group surrounding Grace and physically moved a young buck he thought stood a bit too close and stared a bit too eagerly at her low-cut neckline. His mission accomplished, he returned and calmly concluded his conversation with Galesworthy.
For the next few hours, the ton watched in fascinated amazement as he repeated the action several times. After each interruption, Trevor invariably returned to his colleagues, leaving an increasingly frustrated and angry-looking Grace behind. As a result of his intervention, fewer and fewer gentlemen sought Grace out, rightfully afraid of incurring the wrath of the powerful earl.
By the time Trevor appeared again to escort her home, Grace was fuming, prepared to give him a thorough tongue-lashing as soon as they got away from the prying eyes and ears of the ton. Once they were seated inside his coach, however, Aunt Cleo surprised her by entirely monopolizing Trevor’s attention. She prattled on about everything she could think of, from the current style of men’s coats to the deplorable lack of manners in the younger set. This last comment she directed at Grace, who at that moment was quite rudely glaring across the coach at Trevor.
It was the last straw for Grace. Her lips thinning into a furious line, she sat and stewed in silent anger while the conversation ebbed and flowed around her. As soon as the carriage pulled up in front of the house, she jumped out, ran up the front steps, and disappeared inside.
Trevor watched her go, smiling politely as he helped Aunt Cleo and Faith alight. He climbed back into the carriage, his fixed smile fading quickly. He had absolutely no reason to have behaved the way he had tonight. At the very least, he had managed to push Grace even farther away with his possessive actions, when he had intended only to charm and cajole her. When he had seen her laughing and enjoying the attention of the many gentlemen who admired her, however, something inside him had snapped. He found himself repressing the urge to drag her from their midst, to take her to his home and soundly kiss her until he was utterly certain she could not possibly think of any man except himself.
He slapped his gloves in a steady cadence against his thigh, his fury directed entirely at himself. He would have to regain control of the situation. He had no doubt that Grace would find some way to punish him for his behavior this evening. He would think about it tonight, before he showed up tomorrow to take her for the ride in Green Park he had planned. Surely he would find a way to rein in his jealousy before then.
“Just what did you think you were doing?” she asked, her even, mo
dulated tone at complete odds with the angry glint in her sapphire eyes.
Trevor felt his blood warm as he looked at the tempestuous beauty who stood several steps above him, glaring down at him with militant ire. He smiled benignly. “Let me see,” he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I stopped for you at precisely ten o’clock yesterday evening and cooled my heels for approximately fifteen minutes in your aunt’s uncomfortably small and overly warm blue salon before you decided to grace me with your presence. After that, I believe I escorted you to the Tildens’ball, at the conclusion of which I returned you home, quite safe and sound, at not quite two o’clock in the morning.” Having blandly summed up the evening, he looked at her inquiringly. “At some point within that timetable, did I do something that caused offense, my lady? Perhaps you found fault with the comfort of my carriage? If you’ll pardon me a moment, I’ll have the springs on the phaeton checked at once. I would hate to think you might be subjected to a drive in the park in what could possibly be an inferior conveyance.” He turned and headed purposefully for the door.
“My lord!” Grace’s voice rang out, shrill in the high-ceilinged room. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out before speaking again in a more normal tone. “I found no fault with the transportation. It was your company I found lacking.”
He walked back toward her as she descended the last three steps, and offered her his arm, which she took without comment. Neither of them spoke again until she settled comfortably into her seat and Trevor set the well-matched grays in motion. He spoke first. “You would, perhaps, have preferred the theater, Miss Ackerly?”
“I would have preferred a chance to enjoy myself last night,” she snapped, unable to contain her resentment with even a facade of civility. “By deserting me as soon as we arrived, you made it appear as though escorting me were some sort of repugnant chore an older brother was required to perform. And, as if that weren’t enough, you then made it your sworn duty to descend upon me like a hungry hawk and frighten off every man who so much as looked at me. In the meantime, you had Lady Maria Monfort hanging off your arm, her vulgarly displayed bosoms nearly falling out of her bodice as she flirted outrageously with you, just as if her seventy-year-old husband weren’t propped up with his cane in some dim corner of that very room.” She took a deep breath, prepared to continue her angry tirade, then realized she had nothing left to say. She closed her mouth with a snap, then sat staring resolutely forward as though fascinated by the ears of the horses, her hands folded properly in her lap.
“I did not desert you,” Trevor pointed out in a reasonable voice. He glanced sideways at her flawless profile, and had to bite back a shout of laughter at her prim pose. “I had no idea that you were so jealous, my dear.”
“Jealous!” she cut in indignantly. She felt her pulse begin to pound with a fresh surge of fury.
“Had I known you were jealous,” he repeated, as though she had not spoken, “I suppose I would have paid you a bit more attention.”
“I was not jealous,” she protested hotly. “I simply don’t like being made to look a fool.” Belatedly, Grace remembered that she had attempted to do that very thing to him at Almack’s. She lapsed into a guilty, uncomfortable silence. Self-consciously she looked away, nodding and smiling occasionally as they passed acquaintances and friends who also drove or walked in the park. As they plodded along, her ire began to slowly subside.
Several minutes passed before she spoke again. “You have a splendid team, my lord,” she said quietly, nodding toward the grays. “And you handle them beautifully.”
Trevor accepted the offered truce, noting the sincerity in her voice and the genuine admiration in her eyes. “My lady, would you care to try your hand at driving them?”
Grace looked at him in disbelief, eagerness evident in her shining eyes. She cheerfully disregarded his possessive address, her gloved hands already reaching for the proffered reins. “May I really?” she asked, looking for all the world like a child offered a brand-new toy.
Trevor smiled at her unabashed happiness and handed her the reins. He considered his carefully laid plans for her seduction and chuckled to himself at the simple pleasure she found in this small gesture. Had he but known . . .
She handled the horses expertly, he noticed with pride, guiding them with a firm, gentle touch. Trevor watched in amazement as the horses sensed the new hand on the leads, stretched their necks out, then began to almost prance down the cobbled street.
Grace’s lips curved in a smile of unrestrained joy. “Animals know when you love them,” she said in a confiding voice. She glanced sideways at the earl, who looked at her in the alert way that always made her spine tingle.
“Do they, now?” The husky note in his voice made Grace look away hastily.
Trevor smiled to himself and decided to change the subject. “You won’t have to abide my presence for long tonight. I’ll have to leave the entertainment a bit early for a prior engagement later in the evening. I hope I may prevail upon your aunt to escort you home.”
Grace felt a sense of relief at the new topic of conversation, oddly accompanied by a small thread of wistfulness she could not quite explain. “You don’t have to feel obligated to escort me somewhere every night, Lord Caldwell.”
In truth, he hadn’t intended upon an evening out at all, but he wasn’t about to give Grace a night off from their arrangement. “It’s not a difficulty for me to do both. I am simply having some friends in for cards.”
“Cards,” she said. An odd regret was washing through her.
“Yes,” he said, then added politely, “Do you play?”
“My sisters and I have occasionally played for fun, but not for stakes,” she answered.
Trevor smiled. “Are you a good player?”
“I think I play well enough. Mercy was the one we had to watch out for. She often cheated, you know.” Grace laughed. And then she had a scandalous, wonderful idea. She turned impish eyes on him. “Perhaps I could join you?”
He shook his head, astonished that she would even propose such a thing. Her next words drew him up short.
“I could come in disguise.”
He suddenly pictured her in a comically large mustache, her hair tucked up in a hat, half her face obscured behind the high starched points of a dandified collar. An unbidden smile came to his lips, a smile Grace noted immediately. Wisely she kept silent and allowed his thoughts to persuade him. It didn’t take long.
“I suppose you could be my cousin visiting from Cornwall, come to London to acquire some town polish,” he said. He still looked dubious.
She slowed the horses, then brought them to a smooth halt in front of her aunt’s town house. “Who will be there?” she asked.
“Just two others. A possible third later on.” He considered the damage such an adventure could do to her reputation. “I assure you each of these men can be trusted. Not that I have any doubt in your ability to pull it off.” He shook his head and his tone turned wary. “Come now, Grace, you must admit this is a bad idea.” He reached for the reins.
Grace sighed theatrically. “All right, my lord. I understand. You haven’t the stomach for it.”
The gently thrown challenge floated between them. Trevor hesitated only a second before grasping it with both hands. When he looked at her again, Grace knew that she had won. She smiled happily and asked, “How will we manage it?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll make all the arrangements and tell you of my plan when I see you at the ball tonight.” He touched his hat as a footman assisted her descent, then watched as she went slowly up the steps and into the house. He began whistling cheerfully as he flicked the reins and drove away down Curzon Street.
The hidden watcher cursed in frustrated fury. The usurper appeared every day now, and spent more and more time with his love. Eyes lifted again to her window, he decided it would have to be tonight. He was running out of time to rescue her. He would go in tonight, and he would take her home, to where she belonged.
With him.
Chapter Thirteen
Grace did her best to appear as though she were not looking for anybody in particular as she searched the milling crowd in the Havershims’ ballroom. Clutching Faith’s arm, she stood on tiptoe in a vain attempt to see over the heads of those surrounding her, then sighed in exasperation and turned to her sister. “Faith, you’re taller than I am. Do you happen to see Huntwick anywhere?”
Faith looked down at her elder sister with cool appraisal. “Why? Are you still trying to avoid him?” she asked.
Grace averted her head from her sister’s probing gaze, grimacing at Faith’s usual excellent perception. “I suppose I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” she said, hoping they could simply let the matter drop. A futile hope.
“Why do you wish to know where he is? He can’t bother you here.” Faith pinned her with a look. “Unless, that is, you allow him to bother you,” she added reasonably.
Grace snorted inelegantly. “His mere presence bothers me,” she retorted, but her eyes still searched the throng.
Faith raised dubious brows.“You know, it almost appears to me as though you are looking for him, not trying to avoid him.”
Grace sighed and turned back to look at her sister. “What makes you say that?”
Faith shrugged gracefully. “Pure logic. In the past you’ve always tried to escape when we’ve encountered him. A mere three days ago, you went so far as to feign illness in order to keep him from calling on you. Yet tonight you’re acting as though you’re expecting to see him.” She smiled, then bent down and whispered in Grace’s ear, “And I think you’re looking forward to it.”
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