The fan moved more quickly. Grace glanced at the Addisons once more. “You are being absurd.”
“I am being truthful. Painfully truthful.”
She smiled slightly and shook her head. “Absurd, but yes, I’ll do my best to see you aren’t trapped by one of the Misses Addison.”
“Thank you. I—”
“I’m sure he’s here, Cordelia.” Miss Smyth entered the room, an older, white-haired woman with a cane at her side. “He’s a big, strapping fellow.”
Miss Smyth surveyed the few people assembled. Her eyes hit upon him—he was the tallest person in the room—and lit up. She grabbed her companion’s arm and started dragging her in his direction.
Hell. There was something about the woman with Miss Smyth…Was she why Motton had said the Addisons weren’t the worst of it?
Miss Smyth reached him and smiled.
Bloody hell.
“Lady Grace, if you’ll excuse me for interrupting, I have someone who especially wishes to meet Lord Dawson.”
Dread exploded in his gut. He looked at the white-haired woman. Were there tears in her eyes?
Good God, it couldn’t be…
“Lord Dawson,” Miss Smyth said, “I’d like you to meet Lady Wordham.” Her smile grew. “Your grandmother.”
Kate sighed. She couldn’t delay any longer. She was dressed; she had dismissed Marie.
She should have gone down with Grace when Grace had looked in a little while ago, but she’d lost her courage. She’d even considered pleading fatigue and hiding in her room. But she couldn’t do that—she couldn’t hide away for the entire house party. She had to face people—Alex—eventually.
She studied her reflection in the cheval glass, turning sideways to scrutinize her profile. Thank God for the current fashion of high-waisted gowns. Her middle had begun to look larger—well, perhaps that was her imagination. Marie had been lacing her stays more loosely, but more from an excess of caution than need.
Her breasts, however, were another matter. They were most definitely larger—they were barely contained by her bodice. Marie had already talked about making an alteration or two.
Would Alex notice? Surely not. Her breasts were large for her, but she had been rather small-breasted before. They weren’t beacons of her condition…were they?
She would take a shawl down with her. It might be drafty. Where had Marie put her Norwich shawl when she’d unpacked? She opened the wardrobe; pulled out a few drawers…Ah, there it was. She draped it over her shoulders and finally acknowledged she had run out of ways to put off the inevitable. She took a sustaining breath and stepped out of the safety of her room.
She need only follow the sound of conversation to find where everyone was gathering before dinner. From the volume of noise, many more guests had arrived.
She paused outside the room. Was Alex there? He should be; she was coming down quite late.
She took another deep breath, gathered her shawl around her, and nodded to the footman who’d been waiting to open the door. Perhaps she could find a nice corner to hide in…
What was she thinking? She needed to watch over Grace. Lord Dawson was here.
She stepped over the threshold and surveyed the room. Her eyes found Alex immediately, as if he were a magnet. He was talking—well, listening—to one of the Addison twins, his back to the door. She moved to the other side of the room. Yes, she had to discuss the…situation with him, but not here amongst all these people. And she felt completely incapable of discussing any other subject with the man.
She did not immediately see Lord Dawson. Since he would tower over all the guests except Alex, he could not be hiding in the crowd. Had the other Addison twin cornered him? No, there she was, conversing with a very young gentleman.
And where was Grace?
“Looking for your niece, Lady Oxbury?”
“Oh!” She hadn’t noticed Miss Smyth approaching. Fortunately the woman was not accompanied by Theo. “Yes. Do you know where she is?”
Miss Smyth smiled. “Lord Dawson dragged her out into the bushes not five minutes ago.”
“What!?”
The people around her stopped their conversations to stare. She tried to smile for their benefit while her heart lurched in her chest. It was beating so hard, she feared it might push her newly oversized breasts right out of her bodice.
Miss Smyth took her arm and led her toward an elderly woman on a settee. “Now don’t be concerned, Lady Oxbury. I’m certain Lady Grace is completely safe in the garden with Lord Dawson. He was understandably upset, and I’m afraid it was my fault.”
“Upset? Your fault?” Whatever was the woman talking about?
Miss Smyth nodded. “Yes. I happen to be good friends with”—she paused and frowned at Kate’s shawl. “Aren’t you overly warm, Lady Oxbury?”
It was a trifle stuffy in the room. Actually, she was quite warm indeed. She was warm all the time now that she was—
Kate pulled her shawl closer. “Oh, no. I’m perfectly comfortable. I believe there’s a slight chill in the air.”
Miss Smyth lifted an eyebrow, and then gave a small shrug. “Very well. As I was saying, I am good friends with Lady Wordham, Lord Dawson’s maternal grandmother.”
“Oh.” The mother of the woman Standen had loved and apparently never quite got over.
Kate slipped her hand under her shawl to rest on her stomach. Alex hadn’t talked about his brother’s death. Did he blame Standen? If Lord Wordham hadn’t promised his daughter to Standen, if the young couple hadn’t been pursued…
She’d been all of nine then. Standen had been twenty-five—Grace’s age now. He’d come home from that Season different. But what had Lady Wordham felt? Standen had lost the woman he thought he loved—though she, obviously, had not loved him. Lady Wordham had lost a daughter.
“Lord Wordham died last year, you know, probably close to the time your husband passed.” Miss Smyth paused, took Kate’s hand in hers, and patted it. “My sincere condolences, dear Lady Oxbury, on your loss.”
“Why, ah, thank you, Miss Smyth.”
“You, of course, are much younger than Cordelia. You may marry again.”
Good God, did Miss Smyth have a knowing gleam in her eye? Surely not!
“Cordelia, however…” Miss Smyth shrugged. “She is not in the best of health, I fear. I tell her she’ll live another ten or twenty years, but I don’t think she believes me. I mean, look at me. I’m almost seventy and in fine fettle. I feel as if I’ll live forever—well, except for my rheumatism…”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say. She needn’t have worried. Miss Smyth didn’t need any encouragement to continue.
“Cordelia wishes to tidy up, as it were. Attend to unfinished business. So when she told me she’d always regretted she’d never even met Harriet’s son, I knew I had to do something. I do so like bringing people together.”
Surely Miss Smyth hadn’t winked? And when was she going to give her her hand back? It seemed rude to just pull it away.
There was a disturbance at the door. They both looked over. A tall, broad-shouldered, very angry-looking man and a slim, equally angry-looking woman had just entered.
“Oh, dear,” Miss Smyth said. “That’s Lord and Lady Kilgorn. Scots, you know. Rather hotheaded. I’d best go help Edmund deal with them.” She smiled and patted Kate’s hand again. “You will go sit with Cordelia, won’t you, dear? And look, here is Mr. Wilton to keep you both company.”
Alex! No. She wasn’t ready…She felt cold and then hot. Clammy. Certainly she wasn’t going to faint, was she?
“Dear Lady Oxbury, you look so pale. Mr. Wilton, I think Lady Oxbury should sit down, don’t you? Why don’t you take her to the settee over there?”
She heard his deep voice, a note of concern evident, and felt his strong grasp on her elbow.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Chapter 14
“What am I going to do? I can’t go back in there.” David ran his hand through his hair.
“Why not?” Grace tried to catch her breath. She’d had to almost run to keep up with David, he’d left the drawing room so quickly. “What is the problem?”
The problem obviously had something to do with Lady Wordham. Miss Smyth had barely got the name out of her mouth before David had grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her out the door and into the bushes. And this trip to the vegetation had nothing to do with seduction. David wasn’t even touching her now. His hands were fisted at his sides.
“Didn’t you hear? That woman is my grandmother.” He looked away, his jaw tense.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold him, comfort him…but what was she comforting him for? Lady Wordham had looked harmless. More than that, the poor old woman’s eyes had been full of longing and regret. And tears.
There was something here she didn’t understand, so she must tread cautiously. “She’s your mother’s mother?”
“Yes.”
David still stared off into the distance. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked as taut as a bowstring.
“Have you met her before?”
“No, God damn it. Why would I?” He glared at her, but she wasn’t convinced he saw her. “She and her husband never came to visit—they never even sent me a note on my birthday. In all my thirty-one years, this is the first time a member of that family has acknowledged my existence.”
Grace laid her hand on his arm. For a moment, she thought he would jerk it away, but he didn’t. He looked down at her.
“Perhaps Lady Wordham wanted to see you, but her husband wouldn’t let her. She is recently a widow. Perhaps this is the first time she has been free to do what has been in her heart all these years.”
David snorted derisively and looked away again—but he didn’t move away. She put her other hand on his arm as well.
“Or perhaps she was as bad as her husband, but now sees that such malice and pettiness is wrong. Perhaps she regrets her actions—or lack of action—and wishes to make amends.”
He looked back down at her. “Why should I think that?”
“Why shouldn’t you? She has come all this way; she looked so eager—so happy—to see you.”
He snorted again. She shook his arm slightly.
“What have you got to lose, David? If she is as unfeeling as you say, you have had your opinion confirmed. You can avoid her—or even cut her—for the rest of the house party and feel justified in doing so. But if she has had a change of heart—or if she has always had a good heart—you’ve gained a grandmother and lost this anger and pain you’ve been carrying all your life. It must weigh you down terribly.”
He stared at her, his face expressionless. Was he going to cling to his hatred, tell her to leave him alone?
It would be best if he did. She was going to marry John, not David. She should not be out in the garden with him. She should have refused to come.
But she could not bear for him to hold onto this pain any longer. He needed to get rid of it—to talk to his grandmother. But he needed to choose that. She could not do it for him.
His hands came up and covered hers, and she felt his body relax.
“Will you come with me? Will you stay with me while I talk to Lady Wordham?”
She should say no.
“Yes, if you wish me to.”
“I do.” He wrapped his arms around her. “How did you get to be so wise?”
She laughed. “It is easy to be wise when it is someone else’s problem you are solving.”
He kissed her lightly on the nose. “Then I hope I can be wise for you, when you have a difficult problem to solve.”
She ducked her head so he could not see her eyes, see the pain and longing she knew were there. If only he could help her solve her problems—but that would be John’s place.
He put her hand back on his arm. “Let’s go in, and I will apologize to Miss Smyth and Lady Wordham for my rude and precipitous exit.”
“I don’t have to apologize to you, too, do I?”
“What?” Alex’s teacup clattered in its saucer and he felt his ears burn as he turned to look at his host. Had Motton noticed he’d been staring at Kate, watching her converse with Lady Wordham and Lady Kilgorn?
He’d intentionally chosen a spot on the other side of the room from her when the men returned to the drawing room after port. For some reason she’d acted nervous earlier when he’d sat with her. She’d used Lady Wordham almost as a shield.
What did she think he would do? Pounce on her? They definitely needed to have a frank conversation, but Motton’s drawing room was not the proper place.
The viscount shrugged. “I seem to be apologizing to everyone tonight. I hope you don’t mind that Lady Oxbury is here?”
“No, of course not. Why should I mind?” Not only was Kate here, her room was next to his—with a connecting door. Someone—Miss Smyth?—had a very twisted sense of humor. He did not expect to get a wink of sleep tonight.
Motton smiled slightly, almost slyly, and took a sip of his tea. “Why indeed?” He looked over at Kate. “Aunt Winifred tells me you and Lady Oxbury were acquainted before her marriage.”
Alex stiffened. “Only slightly. I believe we crossed paths once or twice when she was in London. She left to marry Oxbury before the Season was over, so she wasn’t in Town long.”
“Hmm.”
Dash it, what did Motton mean by hmming that “hmm” in just that tone?
“Oxbury was many years her elder, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.” Did the cur think Kate had been unfaithful? “By all accounts, she was completely devoted to him.”
“Oh, I’m sure she was. Lady Oxbury is above reproach.” There was that damn smile again. “It is…nice that she’s come back to London now that her period of mourning is over. Do you think she’ll wed again?”
What was the man getting at? “It would not be a surprise if she did.”
Motton nodded. “And if she did marry, she might even have a child or two.”
Alex’s teacup crashed into its saucer.
Motton raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “There I go, apologizing anyway. But did I say something to offend you, Wilton?”
“No. Of course not. Just my own clumsiness. I am the one who should apologize. I must still be tired from my travels—got up very early this morning, you know.” It was past time to change the subject. “I say, I thoroughly enjoyed talking to your man Watkins. Very knowledgeable.”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he? I—oh, blast!”
Miss Smyth had appeared in the drawing room, accompanied by Theo on one shoulder and a small monkey dressed in the black and silver of Motton’s livery on the other.
“I’m going to kill her. I swear I’m going to kill her.” Motton forced a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, Wilton?”
The viscount headed toward his aunt.
“Avast! Trouble on the portside!” Theo flapped his wings, disarranging Miss Smyth’s hair and disturbing the monkey.
The monkey screeched.
The Addison twins screamed.
“Aunt Winifred, I believe we had a discussion earlier today about the livestock.”
“Oh, pooh, Edmund. Theo is perfectly well-behaved, and you’ll see I have your namesake on a leash.” She flourished a red leather strap she had tied to the monkey’s leg.
Alex heard a choked laugh behind him and turned. He had the very odd feeling that his heart had jumped in his chest. Kate was standing there grinning.
His heart wasn’t the only organ jumping.
“She named the monkey after Lord Motton. Can you believe it?”
“No.” He grinned back at her. He hadn’t seen this uncomplicated glee on her face since she was seventeen. If only she hadn’t married Ox—
But she had.
It didn’t matter. That time was in the past. She was here now, unwed, and…increasing?
Would she tell him? Should he ask?
How do you ask such a question?
He c
leared his throat and gulped down the rest of his tea. This time he managed not to make the teacup clatter, though only just. Kate was watching him, a small frown between her brows. What was she thinking?
“Would you like another cup of tea, Mr. Wilton?”
He wouldn’t, but if he said yes, she would take his cup and go away, giving him a moment to get his heart and other organ under control.
“Thank you, Lady Oxbury. That would be very kind.”
She carried Alex’s cup back to the tea tray. She needed to get her nerves under control. She took a deep breath and then another as she poured the tea carefully into the cup. Her hand only shook slightly.
She had to tell him about the child.
The cup rattled in its saucer. She put it down quickly and glanced around. No one was paying the slightest attention to her; they were all transfixed by Miss Smyth, Lord Motton, and the monkey. Well, and the parrot, too.
She took another breath, smiled slightly, and picked up the cup again, starting back across the room to Alex. How difficult could it be? She would just smile coolly and say, “Mr. Wilton, do you recall the evening you spent in my bed? Well, I need to inform you there has been…you will be…in less than nine months’ time…”
Her hand shook so badly, she had to grasp the cup in both hands.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him.
She had to tell him. He deserved to know he was going to be a fath—She swallowed. That he was going to have a chi—
She couldn’t do it. There was no way she could get the words out.
“Are you all right, Lady Oxbury?”
“What! Oh, oh yes.” She’d managed to navigate the room without noticing. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Wilton.” She handed him his cup.
He took a small sip and looked at her. She looked at him. She moistened her lips.
“Mr. Wil—”
“Lady Ox—”
They smiled at each other.
“Go ahea—”
“You fir—”
Kate laughed, it was too absurd. She heard Alex’s deep chuckle echo her—and then felt his hand on her arm.
“You first, Lady Oxbury,” he said, smiling down at her. “I insist.”
Sally MacKenzie Bundle Page 110
