by Kya Lind
“But the girls are playing the game so badly?”
His fingers made the return journey. “Oh, I agree,” Greyson added in a distracted tone, as he watched mesmerized as his fingers slid back and forth along the chain. He could feel her heartbeat accelerate. “To bad you don’t have a chance,”
“The guys are only up by two,” Honesty breathed trying hard to keep her mind on the right topic.
“Oh, but I doubt you could turn that around in the next two weeks. Those girls aren’t even big enough to hold a conversation by themselves without at least three other girls to help.” His finger glided down the chain farther toward where it dipped into her cleavage. “Little girls should never bet against men. You do not stand a chance,” his chuckle was a challenge.
He felt his angel stiffened in indignation at the insult aimed directly at her.
Her eyes sparkled, “We will win, just you wait and see.”
Greyson smiled down at her in victory, “Wager accepted. Good-night, Darling.” And then he was gone in the shadows of the hallway. The only sounds were his footsteps as he strolled away.
Honesty released her pent up breath. What had he just done to her? How had she let him talk her into agreeing to another wager? One she couldn’t win no matter the outcome. She couldn’t accept the necklace even if it were the result of a wager. She touched the jewel around her neck. There was no way she could let him win a kiss. Oh, how did she get herself into these messes?
♣♣♣
After visiting the children the next day in the nursery, but finding no sign of Honesty, Greyson challenged True to a game of chess where he was soundly beaten in only a few minutes. True had shot him a very cocksure smirk before offering to play him again for favors. The duke returned the grin as he realized that the young man must have heard about the game for favors Greyson had played with his sister. Greyson declined, but promised to take the young buck driving later in the week.
After he had excused himself from the children’s play rooms, he was surprised to be approached in the hall by Mister Sinclair. Greyson recognized him as one of the tutors that worked for his family.
“Your Grace,” the older, stately man addressed him.
Greyson nodded his permission for the gentleman to speak.
“Your Grace, I was wondering if you knew of the William’s circumstance? In particular regards to the oldest boys’ education.”
“No, why do you ask?”
“Well, Sir, I know that your family has long been a supporter of the community, and have been known in the past to sponsor sons of parishioners to Eton.”
Greyson nodded his head. When someone in their towns showed great promise his family had been known to spend them to Eton, an elite boy’s school. “And you would suggest True Williams?”
“Yes, Sir, and his younger brother, Just. They are very intelligent and their education to this point may have been unique, but their basics are strong – except for the lack of Latin, which they will have to learn – I should think that they could succeed there quite well.”
“What do you mean - their education has been unique?”
“Well, Sir, from what I understand they have had no formal training except for instruction from their elder sister and access to a scholar’s library.”
“Thank you for approaching me in this matter. I will think on it.”
“Good day, Your Grace.”
♣♣♣
After lunch, Greyson approached Mrs. William and Miss Prudence. “I was wondering if Miss Prudence would consider taking a turn around the gardens with me before it gets too hot outside.”
Mrs. Williams assured him that her daughter would be delighted indeed, and smiled at the other matrons like a cat who had swallowed the canary. Miss Prudence donned a large hat to protect her fair skin and so did her mother. Just as they reached the veranda, the duchess called across the room and reminded Mrs. Williams of their intended meeting. Greyson watched Mrs. William’s face as she waffled between her duty and the privileged honor his grandmother had placed upon her. “Do not worry, we shall stay within clear sight of the house.”
Mrs. Williams nodded her consent and hurried to the duchess’s side.
Greyson took Miss Prudence’s arm and escorted her into the gardens. He observed her from the corner of his eye as she watched him like a scared rabbit watches a fox right before it become dinner.
“One of the tutors in the nursery approached me today about advancing your brothers’ education. I wanted to ask you what subjects they had studied.”
He saw a flicker of intelligence behind the large blue eyes. Even in her fear, she recognized a chance to help her brothers. She licked her dry lips and nodded.
“They are very smart.”
“But being intelligent and being able to catch up at fifteen with what is expected of a boy at Eton . . .”
Pretty’s eyes widened at the slight promise of his words. “We have all studied the classics, and sciences, and history, plenty of history.”
“We . . . you mean yourself also?”
Pretty nodded uneasily sensing the trap that was about to spring. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“So let’s see what you know – if you are up for the game.”
He could tell that she really didn’t want to, but could find no way to detour him.
“The capital of Egypt?”
“Cairo”
The standards act?
“A political bill before the house currently to standardize weights and measures.
The generals of the Napoleonic Wars?
Petty’s brow knitted in concentration, "Surely, you can’t expect me to remember them all… oh, well…. Napoleon, of course, and Ney, right? And that other guy, Mmmm, something.”
The best French wine to serve with pheasant?
Pretty tilted her head at him in amused confusion and answered, “Bordeaux red is acceptable.”
Greyson smiled, “How would one find if a house is true to square?”
Pretty bowed her head, “Oh, you would have to ask me a numbers question. Honesty is always nagging on me about my arithmetic.”
Just then they rounded a hedgerow in the garden to find Lord Byron sitting nervously on the bench. When he saw them, he jumped to his feet.
Greyson explained, “I am afraid Miss Prudence that you are the victim of an intrigue. My dear friend, Lord Byron, has wanted to ask you to walk with him, but lacks the nerve to ask himself. I am, but a poor messenger sent to deliver you to his arm, if you will allow? If not, I shall escort you back to the house. Which would you prefer?”
Pretty glanced back it the house uncertainly and then smiled tentatively at Lord Byron.
“As myself and Miss Prudence have been talking I realize that you are right Lord Byron she is indeed intelligent as well as beautiful. I approve of your interest.”
Both Lord Byron and Miss Prudence blushed to the roots of their hair.
Greyson turned to Pretty, “When your mother inquires to your being escorted by Lord Byron, tell her we met up in the gardens with Lord Byron and then I was called away.” He turned to Lord Byron. “Mrs. Williams should be engaged for an hour. Keep to the far gardens and try to avoid being seen by the other matrons.” The two men shook hands and Greyson quickly disappeared.
As Greyson slid into his chair behind the desk in his study, he pondered what he had learned. Honesty had not only educated herself, she had taken on the task of educating all of her siblings. So well that a learned tutor believed that Truth and Justice – he grinned at their names – could successfully compete at Eton. Quite a feat. But he smirked to himself; she wasn’t perfect after all. She didn’t know Latin.
♣♣♣
Honesty looked up from her book as Pretty waltzed into the room. From the dreamy look on her face, Honesty could say that Lord Bryon had deemed to look in her direction at some time that morning.
“What have you been up to?”
“Oh, I had an utterly perfect day. You will nev
er believe what happened – the duke asked me to go for a walk with him in the gardens.” Pretty twirled around in circles her arms outspread.
Honesty frowned at Pretty’s words and her actions. Could she have been wrong about her sister’s feelings toward the duke? Her chest tightened, but her sister continued. “Mama was occupied by the duchess, and the duke walked with me in the garden, we ran into Walter.” Pretty waltzed the other direction.
“Walter?”
Pretty flashed her eyes at her sister with a knowing glance, “Lord Walter Byron,” she explained.
Honesty’s chest loosened and she sucked in a breath. “Oh, so you are on a first name basis now.”
Pretty giggled. “You know they planned it - The duke and Walter,” as she said his name she sighed dramatically. “The duke says I am intelligent as well as beautiful, and he approves of Walter’s,” the sigh again, “interest.”
Honesty frowned. Maybe Grey’s open approval of the match would be enough to edge mama into accepting the match. No, she knew better. Mama wanted Pretty to marry the duke. She had her mind set on it.
“Pretty,” Honesty sat forward, closing her book, “Mama .”
Her sister flopped across the foot of the bed, “I know, I know. .. but Honest, I want to marry Walter. How do we convince mama that I don’t want to marry the duke? Although, he is not as scary as I thought, and he was so nice to Walter and myself today. Do you know that he has arranged for mama to be busy with the duchess for a whole hour each afternoon between now and the masque?” Pretty rolled over and looked at her sister intently, “and what is this is hear from True and Vickie about the duke spending time with you at the beach? You know that mama expressly forbid you to have anything to do with him again after she found out about the trip to Buckingham Palace.”
Honesty ducked her head and tried to find a way to explain the situation to her sister and best friend. She tucked on the emerald locket as she thought of a way to start.
Pretty’s eyes grew wide as she recognized the trinket, and scrambling up next to her sister, she pulled the necklace away from her neck and held it, trapping her sister by the chain. “Where did you get this?...” At her sister’s blush, Pretty knew, “You got it from him. What?” Pretty finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. “It is you he is interested in. When he first approached me it was you he was trying to find. And I didn’t tell him, but he figured out who you were anyways.” Honesty cut her eyes away from Pretty’s accusing stare, “You better start at the beginning and tell me everything,” she demanded.
♣♣♣
Greyson slid into the chair his grandmother indicated. They were early to the salon for pre-dinner drinks. Only a few others were present. “What have you done, dear?” his grandmother questioned.
“Which event in particular are you referring too?” he asked drily.
She waved to several eligibles on the veranda talking. “How did you manage to get them to start talking to each other without being in a group in one day. I haven’t seen you do anything? The girls practically gave the token to the boys and are - from what I can tell refusing to ask for it back.”
Greyson looked out the French doors at the girls flirting one on one with the boys. His lips tipped up at the corners. “Don’t you believe I can accomplish the impossible in one night?”
“Yes, dear. But I want to know how.” His grandmother tapped him on the knee with her fan.
“I simply made a wager with Miss Honesty that the girls cannot win this game.”
His eyes met his grandmothers as they smiled in conspiracy. “And what does she win for this fate?”
“The emerald locket.”
“The one you have already tried to give her.”
Greyson nodded.
“And what would you acquire if she fails?”
A low chuckle was his only answer.
The duke and duchess of Devonshire watched the progress of the game with amusement. Each girl had cornered a boy and processed to engage him in conservation without asking for the token. The boys looked at each other in confusion, but seemed to be enjoying the attention. As the gong sounded, Greyson watched in delight as every girl held her hand out to the boy they were talking too. The girls squealed in happiness as the token was handed over and all the guests were quickly escorted to the dining room. The boys grumbled in frustration as they finally caught on and followed the girls and their parents to the table.
Greyson’ grandmother leaned toward him as he seated her at the table. “She is indeed smart, and I am delighted to see you understand this, and know how to use it to your advantage.”
Greyson inclined his head. As he moved down the table from one end to the other, his eyes met Honesty’s. He had expected to see triumph, but instead discovered her eyes filled with worry and concern. Had something happened to one of the children?
Greyson sat in his chair and greeted his closest dinner guests; the silly Miss Tiffany and her great aunt Mildred who was hard of hearing. Greyson tried not to cringe and his thoughts returned to his concern for Honesty.
♣♣♣
Late that night as Honesty left the nursery; she was not surprised at all when Greyson stepped into the dimly lit hall. The night sky was clouded and only enough light filtered in the tall windows to see dark outlines of shapes.
She stopped before him, “Your Grace.” Greyson’s frown deepened. He didn’t like it when she used his title in private. As far as that went, he didn’t like it when she used it in public.
“Darling?”
“Your Grace, you must stop seeking me out, in public, but especially in private. This situation cannot continue. It is most inappropriate. If we are discovered I shall be compromised, and I cannot face that again.”
Greyson heard the fear in her voice. What did she mean ‘again’?
She twisted her hands together in front of her. “This isn’t going to work. I know you think you have feelings for me, but . . .”
He stiffened as she discounted his so called ‘feelings’. That word seemed to small and inadequate.
“We cannot be seen together! My mama has forbidden it. . . and we cannot keep meeting like this . . if I must, I will not leave my room to go to the nursery. I will do what I have to so as to avoid meeting you here.”
The distress in her voice echoed in his heart. He moved toward her and pulled her hands against the starched fabric of his vest to lie over his heart.
“Please, Grey, please just leave me alone,” Her fear wretched at his soul.
“What happened to cause this change of heart?” his voice was low and soothing.
“Reports are starting to filter back to mama about the day on the beach. She is very mad. She is threatening to send me and the children home. Maybe that would be for the best. Then Pretty can stay for a little longer.” Her voice trailed off in a whisper as he pulled her closer.
They stood in the darkness and silence for a minute as she soaked up the comfort of his embrace. His forehead leaned against her, but for his arms loosely around her waist and her hands against his heart otherwise their bodies did not touch. “Why can’t Lord Bryon just propose?”
Greyson rocked his forehead back and forth on hers in a negative motion. “We are waiting for your father to arrive.”
“My father,” Honesty gasped. “You have sent for my father? That is brilliant! I cannot believe you sent for papa so Lord Byron can ask him in such a public setting. Oh, you beautiful man,” she grabbed him around the neck and hugged him in delight. Greyson hugged her back and marveled that as intelligent as she was, she failed to grasp the idea that he could have summoned her father for any other reason than for Lord Bryon’s proposal.
She pulled back, and looked at him in the darkness, “then it is more important than ever that we stop meeting each other.” She stated firmly, “we cannot do anything to mess this up.”
“I’m not giving you up,” Greyson stated quietly into her hair.
“Grey, please be reasonable.”
She leaned her head forward, her forehead now rested on his shoulder, fear made her voice raspy. “If you don’t leave me alone, I will tell mama something to get myself sent home. I will not allow myself to be in a compromising situation such as this again.”
“But it would solve so many problems, then you would be expected to marry me,” his voice filled with light humor.
“No, Grey,” Her voice was firm with conviction in the dark. “I refused to be forced into marriage because of society's conventions last time, and I would refuse again.” And with those words hanging in the air, Honesty turned and marched into her room and quietly closed the door.
Chapter 9
Greyson raked his hand through his hair for the millionth time. Her words had been branded into his mind. She had been compromised. How compromised? And by whom? Whoever he was, Greyson was going to find him and kill him slowly. If she had been compromised, and had flatly refused marriage that meant the situation had not been her choosing. Greyson had never wanted to strangle someone as badly as he did now. He would find the fiend and slowly squeeze the life out of his miserable body.
Greyson paced the length of his study and back. But if she had been compromised within the first weeks of her season, why wasn’t there a scandal? Why had she just disappeared without everyone including Robert who had been there knowing about it? It didn’t make sense.
Greyson thoughts took another path. Honesty had told him repeatedly that she did not do anything right. That she was always messing up. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she had told him she expected to do something so embarrassing that he would send her and her family away. He remembered the seriousness in her eyes when she had told him that as soon as he got to know her a bit he would change his mind about his feelings. Greyson slapped his hand down hard on his desktop. The reason she had not reacted strongly to his declaration of undying love was because she truly didn’t believe it was possible. She believed that he would come to his senses shortly and then they would what? Just become friends. No, that he would go on with his life, and she would go home and back to being a nanny and governess for her siblings. This separation she was insisting on made sense in a tangled sort of way. If their light flirtation – because she refused to see it as anything else – was standing in the way of her sister’s future happiness than Honesty would have no qualms in giving it up.
