Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3)

by Lana Williams

  She skimmed the mass of people, searching for a familiar face but saw none—silly of her to think she would.

  No doubt this was going to be the longest night of her life. Now more than ever, she couldn’t see how any of this would help protect her son from Charles. These people were all strangers.

  “Viscountess Chivington?”

  Grace turned to the feminine voice to find the lady who’d been watching her so intently in the receiving line.

  “I am Lady Samantha Brown.” She said her name as though Grace would know her.

  “How nice to meet you.” Grace offered a smile, pleased to find someone with whom to speak.

  The lady didn’t return Grace’s greeting or her smile. Instead, she glanced up and down at her as though searching for something with which to find fault.

  Grace took an instant dislike to her. Whether it was the lack of sincerity in her expression or the coolness in her eyes, she didn’t know. Nor did she care for her striped gown of crimson and sky blue with its low-cut neckline and immense bustle.

  “Good evening.” Another feminine voice came from behind her.

  Grace turned to see two couples standing nearby, with Tristan directly behind them. Her gaze latched onto him, refusing to let go. Relief flooded her at the sight of his familiar countenance. His smile started in his grey eyes, sending her heart winging as his lips curled upward at last.

  Then he looked from her to a place over her shoulder and his smile stiffened then faded. Grace glanced back, realizing who he was looking at, and her heart sank.

  No.

  Surely she was wrong.

  But Tristan moved around the others toward Lady Samantha who offered her hand to him. The smug look on the lady’s face made Grace ill. Far worse was her glance at Grace—as if she wanted to make certain Grace witnessed Tristan’s attentive behavior.

  As difficult as it was, Grace kept a mask of composure in place and made certain it was there when Tristan at last turned toward her.

  “I am pleased you could make it.” Tristan glanced at the lady at his side. When he looked back at Grace, the chill in his stormy eyes was undeniable, nor did he sound like himself. “Have you met my fiancée, Lady Samantha?”

  The idea of Tristan marrying this woman was inconceivable. She wanted to pull him aside and tell him he was making a terrible mistake.

  But that was not her place, no matter how much she wished otherwise. With concerted effort, she managed to make it through the introduction, trying to hide her feelings, uncertain if she succeeded.

  “This is my brother, Captain Nathaniel Hawke,” Tristan continued as he directed her attention to a man standing nearby, “formerly of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.” Tristan’s demeanor relaxed slightly only to stiffen again when Lady Samantha shifted closer.

  Grace was pleased to turn her attention to the captain, a handsome man with the military bearing one might expect. His cane suggested an injury, and she wondered if he’d received it during his service.

  Miss Lettie Fairchild, the captain’s fiancée, had a genuine kindness in her expression that was even more noticeable when compared to Lady Samantha. She seemed a perfect complement to Tristan’s brother.

  Next came Lady Julia Hopwood, one of the friendliest people Grace had ever met. She took Grace’s hands in her own as they spoke. She was engaged to Viscount Frost, a tall, broad-shouldered man who seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the crowd given the way he continually glanced about.

  Grace couldn’t help but notice that Miss Fairchild and Lady Julia ignored Lady Samantha. Perhaps they didn’t care for her either.

  “Your gown is lovely,” Lady Julia said with another of the smiles she seemed to have readily available.

  The entire group made Grace feel welcome as they conversed. All except Lady Samantha. The weight of her glare was impossible to ignore.

  Grace was careful not to look at Tristan too often, but time and again, her gaze caught his. Emotions filled her that she couldn’t put a name to, making her lose track of the conversation around her.

  After completing the introductions, Tristan had moved to stand just behind his fiancée, as though not truly part of the group, merely an observer. If she were his betrothed, she’d loop her arm through his and encourage him to stand at her side so they might enjoy the topics discussed together.

  She didn’t care for the reserve in his eyes. He responded when spoken to but said little else. His distant behavior made her want to shake him until he responded. Her imagination ran wild with how he might react, how she wanted him to react. She nearly had to fan herself at the thought.

  “Is something amiss?” Lady Julia asked.

  “Nothing at all.” With a breath, she dismissed her musings and focused on the conversation.

  As the couples around her spoke, she realized how odd it felt to be the only unattached woman amidst them. She hadn’t attended any social events since Daniel’s death.

  “It must be difficult to come to an event where you know so few people.” The sympathy in Lady Julia’s eyes was gentle.

  “The earl has been very kind, and I am grateful to have met all of you.” Grace couldn’t help but glance again at Tristan. Why couldn’t she keep her gaze—and her mind—off him?

  “How is it you know Adair?” Miss Fairchild asked.

  Grace hesitated, uncertain what he might’ve told them. “We met in the country not far from his estate.”

  Captain Hawke leaned forward, a twinkle in his eyes. “Ran into each other, eh?”

  She chuckled, realizing he must know the truth. “Indeed.”

  Miss Fairchild looked back and forth between them. “I sense there is more to the story than you are telling.”

  Another man, Lord Baylor, joined them, and the topic was dropped. Grace couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. She and Tristan hadn’t discussed how to explain how they’d met.

  Lord Baylor asked Grace to dance. She hesitated only a moment before accepting. After all, it was a ball, and her purpose here was to meet others. With effort, she avoided looking at Tristan as she took the man’s elbow.

  The evening passed in a blur between dancing and visiting with her new friends. At least, she liked to think they were her new friends. Viscount Frost danced with her, and she found she truly liked the lord. His quiet demeanor hid a dry wit and the way he looked at Lady Julia made her sigh. The man was obviously besotted.

  Captain Hawke danced only with his fiancée but, considering his limp, he managed it quite well. She had the good fortune of meeting an older lady who lived only a few houses down from her and invited her to take tea.

  All in all, Grace thought the evening a success. Except for the lack of time she’d spent with Tristan.

  He’d kept his distance the entire night. Though Grace understood why, she couldn’t help but feel hurt. Captain Hawke and Viscount Frost had each spoken with her more than Tristan.

  She turned to glance his way only to find him directly before her. “Oh.”

  “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  Grace’s shameful heart took flight. “That would be lovely.” Perhaps it would’ve been better if he’d kept his distance after all. How could she hide her reaction to him when he was so close?

  He offered his elbow and she took it, searching for Lady Samantha as she did so.

  “She’s dancing with someone else.” The amusement in his eyes annoyed her. “Assuming you were looking for Samantha.”

  “I wouldn’t want to anger her.”

  “Hmm.”

  Grace looked up at him, wondering what that response meant.

  Tristan felt the weight of Grace’s regard, cursing himself for giving into the urge to ask her to dance. She was too close. He could feel the heat of her body next to his, could smell her lilac scent.

  “I’m very pleased you came.” The words that had been simmering inside him since he’d first seen her slipped out. “You are beautiful.”

  Grace’s eyes widened the sm
allest amount, her lips parting, drawing his notice. Then again, everything she did drew his notice. “Thank you.”

  “The entire male population in this room has been watching you closely all evening, trying to determine who you are. Who you’re with.”

  She frowned. “I hardly think—”

  “They have. I’ve been watching.”

  As her teeth took hold of her bottom lip, blood rushed through his body. That was exactly why he’d kept his distance. Each subtle movement of hers spoke volumes to him. His awareness of her was unprecedented and took him aback.

  He couldn’t remember what Samantha was wearing but knew the details of Grace’s gown, including the clever tucks in the bodice that held an extra sparkle. No matter that the dress had a modest neckline, his attention was drawn again and again to the swell of her breasts.

  He locked on that creamy expanse now, well aware every man in the room had done the same. Her black and diamond necklace winked in the light as though taunting him to take another look.

  The top of each shoulder was covered in a sheer fabric that shimmered in the light, leaving her long, slender arms bare to the elbows where her white gloves ended. The gown was stunning. At one angle, it appeared a soft dove grey, but when she turned, it lit up like a hundred points of light. The cut accented her narrow waist and long limbs.

  But her attire was only a small part of her beauty.

  “You are truly breathtaking.” He turned to face her as they reached the dance floor then took one of her hands in his, placing his other on her waist, grateful for a reason to hold her.

  “You look handsome yourself,” she said with a smile.

  He nodded in acknowledgement, trying to shift his focus from the heat of her body to the dance. The music began and he moved, loving the feel of her in his arms. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d enjoyed a dance more.

  Grace seemed to be trying to be circumspect, keeping a larger distance between them than he would’ve liked, though she followed his lead effortlessly.

  “Lady Samantha is...nice.” Grace looked up at him from beneath her lashes, as though gauging his reaction to her statement.

  “No, she isn’t.” He didn’t see any point in lying. Not to Grace. He’d underestimated the unpleasantness of having Grace near Samantha. The differences between them had become even more apparent and impossible to ignore.

  She frowned at him. “I don’t understand. If you believe that, why are you marrying her?”

  He hesitated, trying to determine how much to say. He didn’t want to lie, nor did he want to tell her the truth. That would mean revealing more about himself than he intended. That would mean letting go of the illusion that he was normal. He wasn’t prepared to do that. Not yet.

  “Ah,” she said with a nod. “For financial reasons?”

  “Not particularly.” Not unless one counted Samantha’s family’s need for funds.

  “Is it her title?”

  Somehow the dance was losing its appeal. “No.”

  Grace’s expression grew somber. “What you’re saying is that it’s none of my business.”

  He held his tongue though he wanted to deny her statement. He simply didn’t want to discuss the reasons. But being rude to Grace was something he wasn’t capable of, so he cleared his throat to reply. “Certain aspects of her personality suit me.”

  “Which ones would those be?” The doubt in her tone was undeniable.

  Damn. She was like a mouse with a piece of cheese, nibbling away toward the truth until only crumbs of his logic remained.

  He drew a deep breath, deciding she wouldn’t be happy until she heard the truth—or at least part of it. “She isn’t offended by my gruff demeanor.”

  Several seconds of silence passed by. Followed by several more.

  Tristan could practically see her brain working through his statement, turning it this way and that. He waited, wondering what her response might be.

  And waited.

  But she said nothing more. Her expression remained pensive as she glided about the floor in his arms, revealing little.

  Tristan scowled, surprised she hadn’t questioned his statement. He’d been so careful not to snap at her or Matthew. Did she think him ill-tempered?

  The silence continued as Tristan’s mind whirled with doubt. Perhaps he’d been brisker than he realized. Or perhaps she’d heard from someone else of his foul temper. No doubt she realized Samantha was indeed a good match for him.

  His thoughts continued their dark path as they moved through the steps of the dance. Hadn’t he suspected that she saw him for who he truly was? She was more than likely rethinking their acquaintance, realizing Lord Baylor would be much better company than he. The thought only further darkened his mood.

  When the music halted, Grace took his arm before he could offer it, much to his surprise. Why did she want to touch him if she didn’t care for him?

  He shook his head. Since when did he worry whether a woman liked him?

  Since Grace.

  The answer whispered through him. His life had changed—he had changed—since Grace.

  “Tristan?” She paused at the edge of the dance floor to look up at him. “You aren’t gruff. You are the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever had the courtesy of knowing. In case you don’t realize it, you deserve to be happy.” She studied him as though wanting her words to sink in. “Thank you for the lovely dance. It was by far my favorite of the night.”

  She smiled then curtsied and left him standing there, no longer certain if he was coming or going.

  Or simply spinning in place.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “During the time they are employed, men receive eightpence, and women fourpence per day, for lodging-money, and two meals, and one meal for each member of the family; and on Saturdays double allowance of money, with an extra meal to take home for each, that they may have no excuse for begging on Sunday.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Tristan walked up the steps to Grace’s residence on Grosvenor Square the next morning. He’d completely forgotten to share with her what he and Nathaniel had learned about Stannus. While the news wasn’t anything incredibly significant, she might appreciate hearing it along with reassurance that he was continuing to search for more.

  He paused at the top of the steps. Who was he trying to fool? That information was only an excuse to see her.

  He’d spent a restless night trying to decipher Grace’s parting words. It hadn’t made sense. He stopped himself with a scowl. That wasn’t completely true. She obviously had a mistaken impression of who he truly was.

  Why it bothered him so much, he had no idea. While relieved to hear she didn’t think him gruff, the rest of her comment had left him reeling. You deserve to be happy.

  He’d decided sometime in the early morning hours that he needed to see Grace and clear the air. He’d explain that she’d met him under unique circumstances when he hadn’t been his true self.

  If he wanted to sleep peacefully again, he needed to make her understand. Once she did, this odd restlessness would disappear.

  At least he hoped it would.

  He knocked on the door and nodded at the footman who opened it. Within a few minutes, he walked into the drawing room where Grace was at her desk.

  The little jolt he experienced each time he saw her never ceased to amaze him. It was an odd combination of a physical and emotional reaction that was illogical, yet there it was.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at him as she rose from her desk. “I’m so pleased you stopped by.”

  “Oh?” Except somehow it wasn’t just a jolt this morning. The sensation sizzled through him, extending into a vortex in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t help but rub his suit coat in an attempt to ease it. Their connection drew him on all levels, and he had no idea what to do about it. Nonplussed, he could only stare at her as an aching need filled him. A longing that steeped into him to the marrow of his bones.
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  She stepped forward and took his hands in hers. “I wanted to thank you for last night. I can’t explain how much of a relief it was to find you in that crowd. Then to meet your brother and your friends. They are such friendly people, and you’re lucky to have them in your life.”

  “Yes, I am.” Her words were an excellent reminder of that fact.

  While he’d never been close to Nathaniel, thanks to their father and the way he’d constantly pushed them apart, they’d certainly grown closer since Nathaniel’s return to London. Tristan knew he had Lettie to thank for that as well.

  Viscount Frost was more his brother’s friend than his, but he knew the lord struggled to come to grips with his time in the Navy as did Nathaniel. Frost had made great strides in his ability to overcome his reclusive ways, mainly due to Lady Julia.

  Both men had been lucky in love.

  Thinking of the couples’ many good qualities made him realize he had nothing kind to say about Samantha. How terrible was that?

  “Thank you for sharing them with me,” Grace continued as she released his hands. “Julia and Lettie invited me to go shopping tomorrow. I can’t remember when I last spent time in the company of other women.” She took a step back but that didn’t calm his senses. “I look forward to being able to call them my friends as well.”

  “I am pleased to hear that.” Her animation was a joy to watch.

  “You were right about coming here and embracing my position as Viscountess Chivington. I don’t know if any of that will stop Charles, but it is nice to feel as if I’m not alone.”

  “I’m sure it’s been difficult since your husband died,” Tristan offered.

  Grace turned away. “Yes and no.”

  He waited, wondering if she’d explain her meaning. He didn’t know how to respond to her comment.

  “Daniel was a good man for the most part, but certain things he did weren’t.” She shook her head.

  Tristan moved to stand just behind her. “Such as preferring his own opinions over yours?”