Maura stared at her, dark brown eyes still filled with confusion and face lined with concern. “Then what has happened, my lady? For I have been your maid for a decade and I have never seen you in a state like this.”
Grace nodded, staring up at her servant. “Do you remember when you…when you found out I was writing a book?”
Maura blushed and turned away slightly. “Yes. I stumbled upon your notes.”
“You were shocked I would write those things,” Grace breathed, thinking back to that humiliating day when she’d come upon her crimson-cheeked maid reading over what amounted to a diatribe about sex and marriage. “But once our shock faded at that odd situation, you became so very helpful to me in the entire process that followed. You are the only person in my life who knows the truth, Maura. You are the only person in the world who knows I am ‘An Anonymous Lady’, the author of The Ladies Book of Pleasures.”
Maura nodded slowly. “I realize that, Your Grace, and I would never betray your secret. But what does that have to do with your current state?”
Grace wrung her hands. “You have kept that secret well, and I appreciate it, but I fear it puts you in the situation where you must serve as my confidante, for there is no one else I can talk to and I must say this out loud.”
Maura nodded. “Then say it.”
“Connor Sheridan was at Lady Humdrum…Lady Harldrum’s party tonight,” she whispered.
Maura’s reaction was swift and powerful, and Grace knew she had been right to confide in her maid. No one else would understand what the power of that one little sentence truly was.
“The Connor Sheridan?” Maura gasped. “Your editor?”
“One and the same,” Grace admitted, rising to her feet to go back to her pacing.
With a thud, Maura collapsed in the chair Grace had vacated. “I-I—”
Grace arched a brow at her speechless servant. “Yes, that was my reaction as well, I fear.”
“Why was he there?” Maura asked. Then her eyes went impossibly wide. “Did he know you are the author?”
“I don’t know why he was there. After all, he has been invited to parties for years since the book’s release and has never come. As for me, I doubt it. I was quite cold when I met him and I believe I gave him the impression that I don’t approve of him or his book.”
Maura’s mouth dropped open. “You met him?”
Grace tried not to think too hard about that moment and nodded.
“What was he like?” her maid asked.
So much for not thinking about the moment.
Grace gripped the back of a chair close to the fire and sought words for that instant where her eyes had met with Connor’s. Where he had spoken to her.
“He’s Scottish,” she whispered.
Maura’s brow wrinkled. “Didn’t we know that?”
“It’s one thing to see a phrase in a letter here and there and guess that he’s a Scot, and another to hear the softest, lightest brogue that feels like a caress on every word,” Grace said, her cheeks heating.
Maura stared at her, clearly taken aback by her mistress’s words. In truth, Grace was just as shocked by saying them. She didn’t wax poetic over men. Not even a man like Connor Sheridan.
“And what did he look like?” her maid pushed her.
Grace shook her head. “He was handsome, very handsome,” she admitted. “I always pictured him as older, but he cannot be five and thirty. He has dark hair and bright green eyes. There is roughness about him, you only have to look at him to know he doesn’t belong in Society, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He has…something about him.”
Maura nodded. “He made quite an impression on you, Your Grace.”
Grace sighed. “I suppose he did. And why not? I spent the past three years, more than three years, corresponding with the man, developing what I suppose could be called a friendly acquaintance…wondering about him. Seeing him face to face would make an impression on anyone in that situation, wouldn’t it?”
Maura nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
“My greater question is why was he there at all. As I said, I know he has been invited over the years and has refused the invitations. He even teased me last year in a letter about coming to find me, thanks to all the interest. But—”
“Perhaps that’s what he is doing,” her maid interrupted.
Grace caught her breath. “N-no. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Why would he? Why now?”
“Because you stopped writing to him?”
Grace tensed and turned her back on Maura. She wished she hadn’t let Maura know that little fact, for it felt terribly intimate now, even more intimate than everything else her maid was privy to.
She had stopped corresponding with Connor just a few months before. He had been encouraging her to write another volume in The Ladies Book of Pleasures, and her refusals hadn’t been met with acceptance, but pressure.
But it was more than that which had caused her to block him from her life. When her husband had died six years before, she had vowed never to care about anyone again.
And Connor tested that vow. So she walked away.
“That is silly,” she whispered, finally answering the question Maura had voiced. “He couldn’t care about my lack of response except that he is disappointed in my refusal to write another book. It is a purely financial motive, I assure you.”
Maura made a sound behind her that didn’t exactly make it seem as if her maid believed her. Grace ignored it.
“I’m certain he decided to come to Harldrum’s party as a lark,” she mused softly. “Now that he has seen how terribly boring these gatherings are, he’ll return to his normal existence and never give any of this another thought. I’ll likely never see him again.”
She faced her maid, sending her a look that dared defiance. Maura gave none, but only nodded, although her dark eyes didn’t seem as certain.
Truth be told, Grace wasn’t certain either. If Connor had come into Society, he might not wish to leave. And though that thought should have brought her great anxiety, she found instead that a thrill of excitement worked through her. One she vowed to squelch by any means necessary.
Chapter Two
“The first blush of attraction can be a delicious game…and can lead to something even more wicked.”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures
Four days had passed since Grace last saw Connor, and though she had attended two parties during that time, the handsome Scot had not been in attendance at either. She smiled as her carriage pulled to a smooth stop before Isabel and Seth’s London home. It seemed her worries about continuing to encounter her secret editor were not worth bothering over after all.
“Good. It’s better that way,” she murmured as her footman pulled the door wide to allow her exit.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?” he asked as he released her hand.
She smiled. “Nothing, Pierce. Simply working out a problem in my head.”
“Very good, my lady,” the servant said.
She started up the walkway to the large home and fought to keep the smile on her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend an evening with Isabel and Jacinda and their husbands, Seth and Jason. She adored them all and was greatly happy for her friends’ well-deserved joy.
It was only that they were couples and she was alone. Recently she had begun to feel that distinction more and more when she spent time with them. Things were changing and now she had to adjust to those changes. That was life, after all.
And hadn’t she wanted Jacinda and Isabel to be happy…even manipulated events to ensure they would find the love they now had?
So she couldn’t be jealous or peevish about it now that she was left behind by her own machinations.
The door opened as she reached the top step, and Grace stepped into Isabel and Seth’s foyer. She exchanged some small talk with the butler as he took her wrap and directed her toward a parlor where the others were gathered for drinks before supper.
�
�Shall I announce you?” the butler asked.
She shook her head. “We do not stand on ceremony, do we, Edwards?” she said with a smile. “I will simply enter.”
He nodded, not put off by the casualness of the behavior, as it was the way between she and the other women. When they were not amongst company, they didn’t worry much about title or rank or sometimes even propriety. Servants…and husbands…came to accept that.
Outside the chamber, she stopped and took a breath. She was about to open the door and let herself in to join the merriment when Jacinda came scurrying down the hallway.
“Grace!” she said, her eyes lighting up.
The two women embraced, and when Grace drew back she examined her friend more closely. “There is something…different about you.”
Jacinda’s lips parted in surprise. “That is a fine hello.”
Grace wrinkled her brow. Over time, she had honed a keen awareness about those around her, but most especially her friends.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” she said slowly.
“I changed my hair,” Jacinda said, her gaze darting away from Grace’s.
Grace shook her head. There was nothing different about her friend’s locks, nor was she wearing a new dress, which is what she assumed Jacinda would turn to if confronted further.
“If you say so,” Grace said softly. “But I hope you will think of me if you need to talk.”
Jacinda’s expression softened and she reached out to touch Grace’s cheek gently. “Thank you, dearest. I will, when the time is right, I assure you.” Her friend shifted with discomfort. “Until then, why don’t we go inside and see everyone?”
Grace linked her arm with Jacinda’s as her friend opened the door, and they entered the parlor. But she had no more than crossed the threshold when Grace came to a halt. As she expected, the large, cheerful room contained Isabel and her husband Seth, as well as Jacinda’s husband, Jason. But standing amongst them, looking toward the door as they entered, was Connor Sheridan.
Tension flooded her, contracting all the muscles in her back and neck. She turned toward Jacinda and, through gritted teeth, she whispered, “What is he doing here?”
Jacinda stared at her in confusion at her strong reaction. “You know Isabel and I owe so much to The Ladies Book of Pleasures. After you left Lady Harldrum’s party a few days ago, we had a lovely conversation with Mr. Sheridan, and Isabel invited him to join us tonight so we could talk with him more about it in private.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Grace hissed below her breath, heat flooding her cheeks because the longer she and Jacinda stood whispering at the door together, the more intense the stares from the others in the room became. Especially Connor’s.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Jacinda explained, releasing her arm and turning to face her fully. “What is wrong with you, Grace? You have never had a problem with the book. In fact, you encouraged us when Isabel and I were uncertain about it. Why are you suddenly so against it and its editor?”
Grace opened and shut her mouth, searching for an explanation for her reaction that wouldn’t reveal too much to her friend. But there was none. She couldn’t tell Jacinda the truth—certainly not now, with Connor half a room away, his intense stare focused on her. And there was no lie that her clever friend wouldn’t see through.
She simply had to calm down. That was the only answer. Shut her feelings away and behave as normal. She had done it before, many times. This would be no different.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, relaxing her face and forcing her body to do the same. “I was so taken aback by Mr. Sheridan’s appearance in Society. He is linked to something that is…I suppose infamous is the best word. Of course I’m pleased to meet him again and to get to know him better.”
Jacinda stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Good. But Grace, you told me in the hallway that if I needed to talk I could turn to you. You should take your own advice and turn to your friends every so often. We might be able to help you if you would ever let us.”
Grace sucked in her breath at her friend’s words and the somewhat hurt expression on her face when she said them. She had never meant to hurt Jacinda or Isabel by withholding some parts of herself. It was just how she had learned to survive.
But Jacinda didn’t wait for further explanation or discussion. She stepped into the room and addressed the group. “Look who has joined us—Lady Jameswood.”
Isabel slid from the arm of her husband, Seth, and crossed the room to embrace Grace. “Good evening, my dear,” she said, then added in a whisper, “Are you well?”
“She’s fine,” Jacinda said, then grasped Grace’s arm and drew her forward. “And you remember Mr. Sheridan, don’t you, Grace?”
Grace stiffened at the use of her given name, but could only hope Connor would think Jacinda was referring to her title in some way. It was an often confusing mistake to have one’s name and title be so interchangeable.
“Good evening, my lady,” Connor said, reaching for her hand.
He had never touched her before. She had not extended her hand the first night they met. Now she had no choice. He cupped her gloved fingers in his bare one, and a jolt of electric heat seemed to flow through her in that moment.
The sensation multiplied when he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. It was an appropriate, if rather formal, gesture, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. Having his mouth on her in front of others seemed decidedly wicked.
“Mr. Sheridan,” she squeaked out through a suddenly very dry throat. “How nice to see you again.”
He nodded a response and she was saved from further conversation, at least for a moment, when Edwards opened a side door and announced, “Supper, my lords and ladies.”
“Excellent,” Seth said as he offered an arm to his bride. “I’m famished.”
Isabel actually blushed and Grace turned her head in discomfort. Sometimes her friends were a bit too easy to read. Or too happy to hide their absolute obsession with their husbands, both in and out of their bedchambers.
Jacinda sidled up next to her, holding Jason’s hand rather than clasping his arm. Again, Grace blushed, for that simple gesture seemed so very intimate in comparison to what was proper.
“Decorum says you go next, my dear,” Jason drawled, motioning Grace toward…
She stiffened as she forced herself to look at Connor. Of course she would be led in by him. She was the only unmatched lady present and he the only unattached gentleman.
He said nothing, but his eyes twinkled as he held out an elbow with far too casual an air. She swallowed hard and slid her hand around his bicep. His very formed, very hard bicep that actually rippled when she touched it and…
“Shall we?” he said, that Scottish lilt to his voice working its way down her very spine.
She blinked. Shall we? Shall we what? Oh yes, they were to be walking now.
She nodded. “Of course.”
He followed behind Isabel and Seth into the dining room and hesitated at the entrance as he looked at the long table. But Grace felt no such hesitation. She smiled at him, this time not having to force the expression.
“Come, I’ll escort you,” she said. “I always sit in the same place when I join the family for supper and I would wager you have been placed in the empty seat next to mine.”
The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. The words sounded flirtatious, as did her tone. But that hadn’t been her intention.
He returned her smile and allowed her to guide him around the long table where she took her seat and he took the one next to her. She arched a brow at Isabel.
“I assume this is what you had in mind?” she said.
Her friend laughed. “Indeed.”
Grace frowned. For a moment Isabel’s eyes had darted down when she asked her teasing question. Her cheeks had filled with just a touch of color. Jacinda also stared at her plate.
Isab
el was capable of covering her emotions and reactions, though not nearly as well as Grace always had been. But Jacinda? Jacinda was transparent.
They were not just inviting Connor Sheridan to supper in order to talk to him about her book—their book. They had asked him here for…for her.
She jerked her gaze toward the man beside her. Did he recognize their matchmaking desires? But, no, he was busy talking to Seth, seated next to him at the head of the table, and didn’t seem to notice her reaction at all.
She drew in a breath as she looked again at Isabel and Jacinda. Neither woman looked guilty anymore as they both began the normal actions of a supper together. Had Grace invented their expressions, their intentions, because she knew she and Connor were connected in a way they couldn’t imagine?
Hell, even he couldn’t imagine it.
She drew a breath and smiled up at the footman who brought the first course. The party began to eat and to her relief, the conversation between them was benign. There were no references to anything that could be considered inflammatory or shocking or even personal until the third course was brought out nearly an hour later. It was then that Connor turned to face her with a smile.
“Your Grace,” he said. “Lady Lyndham tells me you have recently purchased an estate in Northumberland.”
Grace pursed her lips at Isabel. Her friend shrugged slightly, as if to admit to her lack of discretion.
“Yes,” Grace said. “I did recently purchase Winterbourne End in Northumberland. It’s a short distance from—”
“Newcastle,” he completed the sentence for her, his eyes wide with surprise. “Yes, I lived in Newcastle after I left Scotland. I know the place well. So old Lord Aldridge sold the place, did he?”
Across the table, Jason laughed. “I don’t think he had much choice. He’d lost quite a bit of money gambling. Winterbourne End wasn’t tied to the entail.”
Grace ignored Jason’s explanation, for her gaze remained locked on Connor. “I had no idea you lived in Northumberland. You—”
She cut herself off immediately. She had almost told him he’d never mentioned it in his letters and her heart leapt with terror. If she ever made that slip, her anonymity would be shattered.
A Measure of Deceit Page 2
