A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle

by Catherine Gayle

  The splendor before her at Roundstone Park caught her unawares, with the ivy climbing the edifice of the house and huge picture windows looking out. They seemed almost to soak in the warmth of the sun. And oh, how many rooms there must be! Even with its drab grey stone exterior, it seemed so much cheerier, so much brighter, than Chatham House had always seemed.

  As they drew closer still, even more flowers came into view in the various parks, with neat, cobbled walkways spread about. Benches, fountains, and marble statues dotted the way, surrounded by bursts of color in every hue of the spectrum. Grace tried to memorize every detail, every line, every shape and texture and sound so she could someday recreate it with her oils.

  She could become quite settled with this new life, if she allowed herself. If fate allowed her.

  As they came to a stop before Roundstone, a footman came from the house to assist the ladies down. Uncle Laurence led them inside.

  “Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington. Ma’am.” The stodgy butler inclined his head in their direction. “Lord Rotheby is expecting your arrival, though he did not mention a third guest. How shall I announce your arrival?”

  “Inform the earl that the Kensingtons have arrived, complete with their niece, Lady Grace Abernathy.”

  The butler indicated the guests should follow as he led them to a downstairs drawing room. Grace tried not to gawk at the opulent furnishings. Brocades and silk satins upholstered every chair and sofa in periwinkle and puce, and wooden tables and bookshelves gleamed with rich oak finishes—so shiny they looked to be covered in glass.

  The butler cleared his throat. “My lords, Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington and Lady Grace Abernathy.” He waited until signaled by the old earl, then continued. “Shall I bring in the tea now, my lord?”

  Again, the elderly man nodded in assent. He was bundled beneath multiple blankets, though Grace thought the room to be plenty warm. Another, younger man stood near the windows—a tall man with auburn hair. Oh, no. What if he were the same man from the inn?

  But she oughtn’t to worry. Even if he were that man, he surely wouldn’t recognize her. And if he did, what of it? He knew nothing. She tried to relax herself and slow her pulse. Nothing opportune could come of becoming a bundle of nerves.

  “Come in, come in.” Lord Rotheby waved them inside the room and rose to unsteady feet. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He motioned to a sofa and an armchair, and the ladies drew near to him.

  “Gil, I hope it is okay that we brought another guest with us,” Uncle Laurence said. “Lady Grace is our niece. She will be with us for an extended stay and just arrived yesterday, but I was sure you would not mind if we brought her along.”

  The earl’s smile seemed adequate confirmation. It reached his eyes, at least, even if it didn’t quite stretch his lips as it might have once done.

  “Lady Grace, may I welcome you to Roundstone Park?” Lord Rotheby asked before being seized by a round of coughing. He settled himself as soon as possible. “I am glad you will be joining us today. My good friend, Lord Alexander Hardwicke, has joined me for a likewise extended stay. I’m sure he’ll be glad to have a younger person to converse with this afternoon.”

  Lord Alexander turned from the window and gave a polite smile to them all. She froze when his gaze landed on her for a moment. He was the man from the inn. She flushed at the open stare he gave her. Her cheeks heated, at which point his stare became even more intense. His gaze changed in a moment from an inquisitive glance to a thorough inspection of her.

  Grace timidly returned his inspection. Lord Alexander was quite handsome. His hair bordered on being too long for the current style, and his eyes shone an intense green—darker than the forest, almost like midnight, with golden flecks bouncing about the edges, giving them a hint of the lightness she sensed the previous day. He was fair of skin and had a long, straight nose, narrow as was the rest of him.

  His cravat was ever-so-slightly loose at his neck, as though he had tugged at it in impatience, though the rest of his attire was utter aristocratic perfection—the long, black coat over an ornate waistcoat, all snug against his strong chest, and buff knee breeches enhancing rather large thighs, tucked into immaculate, well-shined Hessian boots.

  Grace couldn’t help but be impressed with the sheer beauty of him. Drat, she had no business thinking in such a manner. She tried to banish all such thoughts from her mind. After all, she must remember she would soon bear a bastard child. No man of Lord Alexander Hardwicke’s standing would want anything to do with her.

  Not only that, but she was not yet of age. She could not marry without Father’s consent. Obtaining his consent would be next to impossible, as well as dangerous, now that she’d run from him. If he learned where she was—oh, she dreaded to think what he was capable of.

  How she wished things were different!

  Grace couldn’t tolerate the idea of raising her child alone. Would it not be better for the child to have two parents, and to not go through life with the label of bastard? Of course it would. But how could she provide her child with a father? No man would have her now. Well, none she would have.

  Lord Rotheby continued, “Laurence, my lady, I am sure you both remember Alex. Although I would wager he was hardly more than a boy the last time you saw him. He is still as much of a rascal as ever, I can assure you.” He chuckled, despite the fact that it caused him to cough again. “I am so sorry. My health is not quite the thing today.”

  The butler returned with the tea and poured a cup to ease Lord Rotheby’s cough before excusing himself.

  Alex smiled and greeted the Kensingtons warmly. “My lord, my lady, it is certainly a pleasure to see you again. Gil tells me you keep him company while he wastes away here in the country.” He passed a facetious grin in the earl’s direction, and Grace tried to cover a laugh by taking a sip from her cup. “It is good to know he has some friends nearby who can put up with him in his old age.”

  Then he turned his gaze on her, and her cheeks heated again. “And Lady Grace, it is a privilege to make your acquaintance.”

  Lord Alexander took a seat in an armchair next to Lord Rotheby and across from Grace, and she tried not to stare at him. She sat on the couch, nodding and making her “Mm’s” and “Ah’s” in the appropriate places, but paying more attention to her own thoughts and the man she had encountered the previous afternoon than she did to the discussion. She peeked at him over her teacup a few times, hoping not to be caught in such a bold act.

  Why had he twice stared at her so forthrightly? She hoped she could to find the reason in his eyes or his deportment. He was not being intentionally churlish in his assessment of her, but he more than put her nerves on edge.

  Why was his curiosity about her so strong? Could he be aware of her identity? Maybe he had followed her—possibly at Father’s command. Or perhaps he had been one of the men at White’s the night Barrow had told his tale of her so-called indiscretions with him.

  She hoped not. Grace had hoped Somerton could provide her with some privacy, with a place to hide. The last thing she needed was for someone other than her aunt and uncle to know why she was there. If they were to spend much time in his presence, and he knew—she did not think she could hide her shame. On top of it all, her aunt and uncle did not yet know the true reasons for her visit.

  Oh gracious heavens. What would she do if he informed them before she could? They would turn her out in an instant.

  After yet another long gaze at Lord Alexander over her teacup, Grace caught sight of Aunt Dorothea’s knowing stare focused her. Drat it all. She looked away quickly. She had no idea if her aunt was the matchmaking sort, but since Grace was not matchmaking material, she saw no reason to encourage such behavior one way or the other.

  One thing was certain—Grace needed to spend as much time away from Lord Alexander as possible, which did not seem a terribly easy prospect at this juncture. She would likely be thrust into his path at many turns, since the earl and the Kensingtons we
re dear friends. The last thing she needed was Aunt Dorothea trying to increase the amount of time she would be required to be in the blasted man’s presence.

  Grace tried to return her focus to the conversation at hand, while attempting to avoid the gazes of both her Aunt and Lord Alexander. Neither of which turned out to be easy. Lord Alexander brazenly watched her, and Aunt Dorothea cheerily eyed them both.

  This could turn out to be a very long tea, indeed.

  ~ * ~

  When Alex turned to greet Gil’s guests, he pasted a smile on his face. He remembered the Kensingtons from his years growing up in Somerton, though not well, and he mentally braced himself to play the gallant gentleman for their young niece.

  He expected Lady Grace to be a young chit, not yet out in society. After all, if she was already out in society and still unmarried, why wouldn’t she stay in Town for the season? What young girl would choose to remain in the country when she could enjoy the grandeur of London in spring? Instead, he was shocked to find the very young woman whose eyes had haunted his dreams last night.

  Alex studied her eyes, searching to see what was real and what had been only a dream. A hint of sadness rested in their depths, and also the shadow of fear. He stared far longer than was polite, but couldn’t seem to turn away from the cold, blue eyes that had frozen holes into his mind, nor from the face of their owner.

  She had porcelain skin and hair as black as midnight. Like yesterday, it was pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her head, with not a single strand out of place. A pale, rose bonnet sat atop her lap and matched the cambric of her simple dress—one with none of the lace and bobs his sisters seemed so inclined to adorn their own with. An unpretentious ribbon tied her hair in place.

  She needed no adornments. Lady Grace was as close to perfection as Alex imagined he’d ever see in his lifetime. An unwanted vision passed through her mind—this revelation of a lady with her hair flowing free around her shoulders in some sheer, gauzy confection. The image turned his thoughts in a much different direction, and he forced himself to think of something else—anything else—lest he embarrass himself before Gil’s guests.

  He greeted them with a lighthearted joke to ease his way into the conversation. Then he settled in an armchair next to Rotheby as they smiled and nodded in his direction. His friend’s coughing was certainly a concern, but focusing on anything at all soon proved virtually impossible.

  Anything, that is, other than Lady Grace Abernathy.

  The young woman had the English rose complexion currently in favor, but her dark hair gave it an entirely different effect than was de rigueur. She was hardly what most of the beau monde would fawn over at all. For that matter, she wasn’t even cheerful. He had no idea why she ought to consume his thoughts in such a way. Alex had never heard her utter a word. Christ, she could be mute or dumb, for all he knew.

  On top of it all, he had come to Somerton to get away from Mama’s matchmaking schemes and determine how he was to spend his time to for the remainder of his life. Matters had not yet been settled for Priscilla and Harry. He had no business thinking of Lady Grace; he needed to determine his own course before he could worry about becoming responsible for anyone else.

  But focus on her he did. Blast it, why was he thinking about how she’d look in something sheer? He didn’t even like the girl, for God’s sake.

  As the small party talked, he occasionally caught a glimpse of Lady Grace looking slyly over her teacup to watch him. He’d be damned if she didn’t remember him from the inn as well, though she gave no outward indication to anyone else. Why was she so curious about him that she would sneak covert peeks at him?

  Lady Grace never interjected anything into the conversation other than a hum of assent or the like, yet Alex couldn’t seem to remove his eyes from her, catching a knowing glimmer here and a bashful retreat there. For some unknown reason, he yearned to discover what was going on inside her head and why she felt compelled to keep it all to herself. It was almost like an illness.

  He looked away from her for a moment, just in time to catch Lady Kensington eyeing the two of them equally with a mischievous glint in her eye.

  Damnation, could he not escape meddling women even in Somerton? He might as well have brought his mother with him. Better the devil he knew very well, than one he knew not at all.

  At precisely that moment, Lady Kensington chimed in. “Goodness me, Laurence, we have been boring these youngsters to tears. Have you noticed that neither of them has spoken a word other than to mumble something incoherent in a good long while? How awful we’ve been! A group of old friends rambling on and on about the crops and hunting and such, while these young people would obviously prefer to discuss more fashionable things, I am sure.”

  “Oh, no ma’am, I am delighted to discuss—”

  “Aunt Dorothea, I assure you I am not bored by—”

  But Lady Kensington interrupted them both.

  “Lord Alexander, I believe our Gracie was admiring the earl’s rose garden when we arrived. Would you be so kind as to escort her for a walk through them?”

  The younger woman’s eyes widened in protest, but her aunt pushed on.

  “I do not believe Lord Rotheby would miss your company for a short bit, and the air would do you both good, I am certain.”

  Well. Alex supposed that settled that. There could be no harm in walking with Lady Grace through the gardens…could there? Perhaps she would prove more talkative than she had during tea, but if not he would still manage.

  “Of course, ma’am. I would be honored.” He held out his arm to assist the younger woman from her seat. “May I?”

  Lady Grace placed a tentative hand on his arm and rose awkwardly from the sofa, using her free hand to straighten her gown, pat at her impeccably coiffed hair, and resituate the bonnet atop her head. She glanced to her uncle, seemingly looking for a reprieve from the horror of spending a few minutes alone with a strange gentleman, to Alex’s view.

  Was he really so dreadful? Maybe he hadn’t scrubbed his teeth well enough this morning. He couldn’t understand Lady Grace’s hesitation. Still, after a moment, she walked beside him outside into the rose gardens of Roundstone Park.

  This ought to prove interesting.

  Chapter Six

  Grace couldn’t believe her aunt had the audacity to thrust her into company with Lord Alexander completely alone. Not even a chaperone! What on earth was she supposed to say to this man?

  Hello, Lord Alexander. Despite my aunt’s machinations, you should endeavor to stay clear of me. I am damaged goods and unfit company for a gentleman. For the sake of your reputation, kindly avoid me. Such a line of conversation could only be awkward, and anything less would be a far cry short of the truth.

  With her aunt, uncle, and Lord Rotheby for company, she had not been forced to take part in the conversation. But alone with a gentleman? She could hardly avoid having to converse.

  Living with her father, Grace had long since learned it was usually best to keep her thoughts to herself. Father only occasionally struck her, but his words and actions left scars on her heart far more permanent than any bruise. Due to his edicts, she had had little interaction with those of Quality, living as a virtual hermit. Grace typically spent her days alone, working with her paints, reading, or mending her clothes. The less notice she attracted—and particularly that of her Father—the better.

  And now, she’d be lucky, indeed if she managed not to trip over her words while attempting to speak to this man. A man far too handsome for her comfort.

  He was dangerous.

  If her uncertainty with regard to her aunt and uncle were not enough, now she was expected to be good company for a handsome, eligible gentleman to whom she felt an atrocious and exceedingly irksome attraction. Grace tried to school her features so he wouldn’t see her panic.

  Lord Alexander led her through French doors onto a veranda, which then led out to the main path through the gardens.

  Blast, why could
she not stay in the drawing room with her aunt and uncle? There, she would not be nearly so tempted to let her mind drift and think of all the what-ifs of her life. What if she had not been ruined? What if she were not with child? What if she had stayed in London and her father would allow her to marry a gentleman other than Barrow?

  Still, it would not behoove Grace to allow her mind to wander to those places, but this jaunt through the gardens with Lord Alexander made it difficult not to play such games. He was entirely too…too…too something. She shook her head as if to clear it. His proximity was leaving her muddle-headed.

  Gauche girl that she was, she took his arm and almost tripped from the shock of contact. Goodness, his skin was hot. The heat pulled her closer when she ought to have pulled away. It radiated across her entire side, mustering an onslaught of unwanted reactions in her body. She tried to remember to breathe, but her lungs and nostrils were quite non-compliant all of a sudden.

  Much to her relief, he initiated their conversation. Drawing a full breath was difficult enough on its own at the moment, without the added discomfort of finding something agreeable to discuss. “We are experiencing excellent weather of late in Somerton, Lady Grace, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The heady scent of the roses in full spring bloom wafted over them as they strolled in the early evening sun.

  “Yes, my lord, quite.” Where could she turn the conversation next? They couldn’t very well discuss the weather for more than a minute or so. Something else would have to be said, but Grace was at a loss for anything congenial.

  What did polite company speak of? Her father had kept her far too sheltered to be prepared for such an encounter. Of course, he had never intended for her to have relations of any sort with eligible gentlemen, other than her betrothed. She was to go straight from where he kept her under lock and key to her new husband’s home, where she would discuss only those subjects her husband wished to discuss. Or, perhaps, nothing at all, should he desire her silence.