A Reluctant Betrothal (The Grantham Girls)

by Amanda Weaver

  It was telling that he viewed his eventual ascension to the earldom merely as the means by which he’d acquire land for a stable. He was not an ambitious man, at least, not in any of the ordinary ways, so a wife of means and connection might not be of interest to him.

  “How magnificent. I know what you mean about London being such an obstacle to true enjoyment. Why, I’ve barely learned to ride.” Not at all. She couldn’t ride at all, and had never wanted to.

  “That is a shame.”

  “I’ve always felt the lack. Perhaps in time, I might learn.” There, she’d planted a seed of an idea. If she could keep spinning this out, perhaps her lack of riding ability was something they could revisit together.

  “Did you grow up in London, Mr. Humphrey? I find it hard to believe we could have crossed paths before and not met.”

  He smiled bashfully at the implication he was unforgettable. Well done, Grace. “No, I’ve not spent much time in London until this Season. I grew up on my uncle’s estate in Yorkshire, and lived there, outside of school and University. Only now my circumstances have changed, he felt it best I come and get a bit of city polish.”

  “You seem perfectly agreeable just as you are.”

  Mr. Humphrey smiled again, though not a puffed up, prideful smile. His expression hinted at a sort of gratitude, because she’d been kind to him. He didn’t stir so much as a whisper of interest in her, but she couldn’t help but like him. And liking could be a solid enough foundation for a great many things.

  “And you, Miss Godwyn? You said you grew up in London?”

  “Yes, I’ve lived here all my life. Only I was abroad in France last Season and the beginning of this one, so we wouldn’t have met.” And I was utterly invisible the Seasons before that.

  “What a shame. I could have used a friendly face like yours when I first arrived.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing we’ve met now, then.”

  That earned her another wide smile from Mr. Humphrey. “It’s a very good thing. Miss Godwyn, if you haven’t already got a partner, would you like to dance with me?”

  His delivery couldn’t be more blunt, more unsophisticated, but she had to appreciate his earnestness. She made a show of consulting her dance card. “Why, no. I believe this dance is free. I’d be delighted.”

  Rupert held out his arm and she set her gloved hand in the crook. His forearm was massive. She could feel his brute strength under the sleeve of his tailcoat, even though everything about his bearing spoke of an innate gentleness. He was nothing at all like the lean, agile strength of... No, she wouldn’t think of him. There was no point. It was only an encounter with a stranger which would never be repeated. Mr. Humphrey was here and if she played her cards right and was very lucky, he could be her future.

  * * *

  She didn’t see Gen until it was time to leave. One dance had turned into two, which was promising. She had the feeling Mr. Humphrey would have happily made it three, but that wasn’t done without stirring up talk, and even Rupert, with his lack of social skills, knew better. Still, he stayed at her side as she wound through the crowd searching for Genevieve, and when they found her, he bowed over her hand and asked, stammering, if he might call on them both the next day.

  Genevieve was suppressing a smile as she agreed and he departed.

  “Well?”

  “I think he might be interested, although he doesn’t seem the sort prone to fits of romantic passion.”

  “No, he seems entirely too stalwart for that. How was your conversation?”

  “Exhausting. I can’t even remember what I talked about, I was so focused on him, and saying what I thought he’d like to hear.”

  “And did it work?”

  “He’s coming to call tomorrow, so I think so. He’s used to being ignored by women. All I needed to do was be kind to him. And he’s very nice, so it wasn’t hard to do, honestly.”

  “Do you like him?”

  Grace almost laughed at the wistful note in Gen’s voice. “Gen, I do believe you’re going soft. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing. You’re right. Only... It’s been a relief—far more than I expected—to see Victoria and Amelia so happy in their marriages. I know I don’t train you to expect it, but when it happens...”

  Grace focused on tugging her gloves into place, ignoring the ache in her chest. “Yes, when it happens, it’s divine, and I couldn’t be happier it worked out so well for Vic and Amelia. But I’m not the same and it doesn’t do to dwell on what I can’t have.”

  Gen reached out and grasped her hand quickly. “I only wish I could ensure the same happiness for you.”

  Gen’s words hurt, far more than she thought they would. It turned out she still harbored that same, foolish hope. Maybe that’s really what kept her from following Gen’s instructions in previous years. Secretly, she’d been waiting for love. Stupid girl. When would she learn? Love didn’t pay bills or think about the future. Her mother had loved her father and look what that fairy tale had gotten her. “My happiness will be assured if I can manage to marry a respectable gentleman.”

  Genevieve smiled sadly at her. “Somehow I think not, but we’ll do the best we can, right?”

  “Making the best out of a bad situation is what I’ve done my whole life, Gen. I assure you, I’m quite good at it.”

  Chapter Four

  Julian watched the light from the fireplace dance across the brandy as he swirled it in his glass. The card room at his club was crowded tonight and he’d done more chatting with old school acquaintances than playing cards. Just as well. He’d made the mistake of sitting down with Lord Deveril, who took forever to make up his mind about his hand. They’d been at the same round of écarté for hours now.

  “Come on, Dev, just play your cards.”

  “I’m deciding.”

  “I’m growing old and gray waiting for you to decide.”

  “Have you got a sweetheart waiting, then?”

  Julian snorted. “Nothing so scandalous.”

  “Of course not. Perish the thought of Julian St. John ever doing something scandalous.”

  “Yes, perish the thought indeed,” Julian replied seriously.

  “You know,” Dev said. “Scandal can be fun.” At Julian’s black look, Dev hastily amended himself. “In moderation. When no harm is done. Didn’t you ever sow any wild oats?”

  “I don’t think I was born with any wild oats to sow. If I was, they’ve long since been brought to heel, domesticated, and put to work.” Dev had certainly sowed plenty of oats at Cambridge and in the years since, like most of the men Julian had gone to school with. But wildness had never been an option for him. If he meant to leave behind the taint of his father’s actions, his own had to be above reproach at every turn.

  “It must be exceedingly dull to be you, Julian.” Dev said with a sigh.

  A little dullness was a small price to pay when one considered what reckless behavior inevitably cost others.

  “No doubt you’d find it so.”

  “Well, relax for tonight, at least, and rejoice in being back on British soil.”

  It was a relief to be back in England, his miserable task in France behind him once and for all. If some parts of France refused to leave him in peace, it was his own failing, and one he’d master in time.

  That dark alley, that girl, that kiss.

  He wished he could scrub the encounter from his mind entirely. After everything he’d gone through because of his own father’s weakness of character where women were concerned, to have nearly fallen prey to the same sort of temptation, in the exact same place, made him furious with himself.

  “What’s this I see? Tell me it’s not Julian St. John finally returned from the Continent!”

  Julian startled out of his thought
s and swiveled in his seat to see Lawrence Peterman crossing the room toward them.

  “Larry!” Dev called out. “Come and have a seat while I decide my next play.”

  “Yes, we have all the time in the world while we wait,” Julian said as he stood and shook hands with Lawrence. Like Dev, he’d been at Cambridge with Lawrence.

  “Good to see you again, St. John. Oh,” Lawrence brought himself up short. “It’s Lord Knighton now. I am sorry. How long have you been back?”

  “I only arrived this afternoon. I just meant to stop in for dinner, but Dev found me and dragged me into the card room. How have you been?”

  Lawrence shrugged, running a hand across his bristling ginger moustache. “London is always the same during the Season, isn’t it?”

  “Dull, dull, dull,” Dev added. “What’s there to do but pay calls on young ladies and drink bloody punch at a bunch of balls?”

  “You could always take up your seat in the House of Lords,” Lawrence said pointedly. “Help run the country, that sort of thing.”

  Dev scoffed. “Not really my bag, is it, old chum?”

  England was likely better off without Dev’s assistance. He was a good enough man, but more interested in the cut of his suit jackets than in the finer points of government.

  “What about you?” Lawrence turned his attention back to Julian. “Do you mean to take up the seat now?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said emphatically. The Knighton seat had stood empty for the entirety of his father’s life, but no more. Julian had plans for it. His way forward would not be easy, but when had it ever been? “Not this session, as I’m still settling the estate, but next year certainly.”

  Peterman raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I’m glad to hear it and I wish you luck.”

  Julian suppressed a grimace. “I’ll need a bit of luck. But I’ve a project I wish to advance, and it can’t be done without some assistance in Lords.”

  “A project? Already?” Lawrence laughed. “Not letting any grass grow under your feet, are you?”

  “It’s been something I’ve been working on for some time, but it will require a fair amount of political support to achieve it.”

  “Is this your housing scheme for the poor?” Dev asked wearily. “For all those unfortunates in the East End? Must we talk about something so dreary?”

  “Dev, those of us fortunate enough to possess money and power have an obligation to do what we can for those who do not.” Julian had borrowed the quote from his grandfather, but surely the old man wouldn’t mind. The point was, he had the means and the will to make a difference, and if seeing it to fruition meant fighting his way into the House of Lords, then he’d do it.

  “I promise I’ll write a very large cheque the next time the Widows and Orphans Society comes calling on me. Now, can we leave off this tiresome subject? It depresses my spirits.”

  “All right, fine. Tell me what I’ve missed so far this Season. Surely something entertaining has happened.”

  Peterman shrugged. “You heard about the business with Cheadle before you left for France, no doubt.”

  “Shocking. What’s come of it?”

  “His father is attempting to get his embarrassing marriage annulled, but he’s not making much headway. The future Lady Chiswick will certainly be an eye-opener when she makes her debut.”

  Dev snorted. Cheadle’s secret marriage to a decidedly common woman, and his plot to commit bigamy and marry an heiress to support them, had been the scandal of the fall.

  “And the young lady he targeted? How did she fare in the business?”

  “Miss Wheeler? She’s married Mr. Smythe, that wealthy shipping bloke. And he’s gone into partnership with Lord Hyde, if you can believe it.”

  “I can’t believe the proud Lord Hyde would partner with a sailor.”

  Lawrence raised his eyebrows. “So we all thought, but it’s making them both as rich as Midas, so there’s your explanation, I suppose.”

  “Miss Wheeler...” Julian mused, trying to place the name. “Have I met her?” It was unlikely. Even when he spent the entirety of the Season in London, he didn’t get to many social events. His mother barely socialized, and since the point of all the balls and musical evenings was to find a bride, and he wasn’t looking for one, he didn’t bother with most of them.

  “Perhaps,” Dev said, still—impossibly—mulling over his cards. “She’s great friends with Victoria Carson, the girl who married Andrew Hargrave.”

  “Ah, yes. I met Miss Carson’s father—Philip Carson—but I don’t think I ever met the young lady, as I didn’t attend Andrew’s wedding.” Andrew Hargrave had been at Cambridge as well, a year or two ahead of them.

  “Another friend of theirs seems on her way to a good marriage,” Lawrence interjected. “And to a friend of yours, Julian, if I’m not mistaken. Rupert Humphrey?”

  Julian froze with his glass halfway to his lips. “Rupert is getting married?”

  “It’s not official,” Lawrence amended. “But he’s been courting the young lady for several weeks now. It seems where things are headed.”

  “And who is this young lady?”

  “Miss Godwyn,” Dev offered. “Quite penniless. That’s probably why you don’t remember her. She was rather eclipsed by her wealthy friends.”

  “Penniless,” Lawrence said. “But not exactly a nobody. Apparently she’s a viscount’s daughter.”

  “You don’t say?” Dev looked up from his cards in surprise. “Wonder why it’s not been widely known?”

  “Because he’s been dead for years and she’s got no other family. The title’s gone extinct. She’s on her own in the world.”

  Unease skittered down Julian’s spine. A penniless young woman without connections had suddenly attached herself to Rupert, the kindest, most trusting man he knew? He was certain it had nothing to do with Rupert’s blunt manner and unrefined looks and everything to do with the earldom and fortune he stood to inherit.

  “Seems I should call on my good friend and see what I’ve been missing.”

  Chapter Five

  With a possible fortune hunter to deal with, Julian made a visit to Rupert his top priority. The next morning, he was on his friend’s doorstep as early as propriety allowed.

  Rupert’s few brief experiences in London had not been pleasant. He’d been more awkward than most young men in his teens, and hadn’t lost that social unease when he entered his twenties. He’d been written off as a dull-witted country bumpkin, which was unjust, in Julian’s estimation. Rupert wasn’t unintelligent. He simply wasn’t interested in exerting mental energy on things which didn’t interest him, and not much in London Society interested him.

  When his situation had suddenly changed, Julian had worried he’d become an object of interest to less scrupulous ladies who had deemed him unworthy in the past. Now it seemed some intrepid fortune hunter had indeed set her sights on him.

  Despite the money now at his disposal, Rupert lived in a modest set of rented bachelor rooms in Bloomsbury. The trappings of title and fortune hadn’t held much interest to him before, and they didn’t now. It was one of the things Julian had always appreciated about him. You always knew precisely where you stood with Rupert.

  Rupert’s man took his coat and hat and showed him into the parlor. Rupert was there already, standing before a small mirror and fussing with his necktie.

  “Julian! You’ve finally returned! Come in, come in. Bloody glad to see you, but you’ve caught me just as I’m going out.”

  “Should I come back later? Or perhaps we might have dinner at White’s tonight?”

  Rupert shook his head. “Lady Longville’s musical entertainment is tonight.”

  “Not usually your sort of thing, is it?” Julian had received an invitation to the Longville’s as well.
Since his father’s death and his ascension to the earldom, he received invitations to nearly everything. Rupert would generally never be caught dead at such an event, so if he meant to go, there was no doubt another reason for it. Which meant Julian was now going as well.

  Rupert smiled and fiddled with his tie some more. “Well, I’ve a friend who wishes to attend.”

  “A friend,” Julian said flatly.

  “A lady friend. That’s where I’m off to. We’re to go for a walk in the park. Look, you should come with me. I’ve wanted you to meet her.”

  “I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

  “Oh, she won’t mind. She’s as easygoing as they come. And I want her to meet you, as well. My oldest friend.”

  “It sounds like this is no ordinary friend,” Julian ventured.

  Rupert grinned. “No, indeed she’s not. Miss Godwyn is no ordinary friend.”

  “Why, Rupert, you sound as if you’ve formed an attachment while I was in France.” He purposefully kept his tone light. There no point to alerting Rupert of his suspicions until he’d ascertained for himself that he was right.

  Color stained the tips of Rupert’s ears. The bloody git was blushing. Now Julian knew it was serious. Rupert was as placid as they came. His emotions were rarely stirred enough to feel something like embarrassment.

  “All right then. I’d be delighted to join you.” Julian had every intention of meeting this Miss Godwyn, and this allowed him to do it sooner rather than later, as the situation certainly seemed to have progressed rapidly.

  “Do I look alright?” Rupert turned to face him, anxiously running his palms down the front of his jacket.

  “You look just as you always do, which is well enough to walk in the park with any young lady.”

  Rupert sighed and called for their coats. “She’s not any young lady. She’s Miss Godwyn. She’s so graceful and polite. I feel like a right bull in a china shop next to her. Of course, it’s not her doing. She’s so friendly and welcoming. She’d never make a chap feel like a clumsy oaf, even if he was one.”