Читать книгу Accidental Fiancee - Mary Moore - Страница 12

Chapter Four

After plans had been finalized, the trip to London passed uneventfully. Lord Weston sat languidly, listening to Grace and Lydia talk, speaking only when there was a specific question in his mind.

Even though Grace was still upset that he had kissed her to make a point, she could not forget his distress as he’d told her of his youthful indiscretion, reminding her that he had not always been so blasé where feelings were concerned. She wondered how many rakes were actually born to it and how many were driven to it by some horrible circumstance in their past. Father, this man needs Your grace and Your forgiveness. You give it so freely. Help me to show him that.

She told him as much as she felt he needed to know about growing up at the Abbey, without boring him to tears. She thought she saw surprise a few times when she talked about the estate matters she handled on her own now, her father trusting the training he had instilled.

“So tell me the truth, Grace. Why are you still unmarried? Though estate managers have never been to my taste,” he said, winking at her, “I cannot fathom why you remain unwed.”

“My lord, that has little to do with our arrangement.”

Lydia, always proud of her older sister, said softly, “She has had three offers, my lord.”

“Lydia!” Grace exclaimed.

“Oh, dear, I am sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Grace felt instant remorse for taking her mood out on her sister. “I am sorry, Lydia. I did not mean to bark at you. It is not...appropriate to speak of offers one has received, and it is of little consequence here.”

“I am sorry, Grace, I did not know.” Grace patted her hand, but Lydia apparently felt the need to fill the silence. “Perhaps you and his lordship should discuss your interest in father’s armor, as that is one of the reasons we have established for his visit to the Abbey.”

“I should not think that a matter of too much importance once we are discovered to be betrothed. According to his lordship, all of London will be lining the streets to see us when we arrive.” Still ignoring him completely, she spoke directly to her sister. “That I have become attached to one or two of Father’s collection will be of no specific use to him.”

Lydia was so soft-spoken and shy, Grace didn’t have it in her to staunch her conversation when she began again. “He will need to know about Max, the one in Town. To own the truth, I cannot wait to meet him myself.”

Grace blushed at Lydia’s mention of it. Max was her particular favorite, a sixteenth century Maximillian suit of armor that adorned the foyer of their London town house. But she did not wish to discuss him with Lord Weston. Max was private, only for herself.

She had been in awe of him since she was a child, and called him Sir Maximillian when her father told her his proper name. He was the pinnacle of plate armor design, made of steel and iron with curved surfaces. Tall and imposing, he had stood guard at the bottom of their winding staircase for many years.

As a child, Grace had made up many stories about his adventures. She held back a smile, remembering the number of times rescuing her had been a part of those adventures. Max had become her sole knight in shining armor when she had given up hope of falling in love. One day, when her father was gone and Lydia was married, he would take up residence at Pennington Abbey with her.

She began to blush as she realized that even now she still thought of him as a real being rather than a fixture in their London home. She turned to find two sets of eyes searching her face. “I beg your pardon, I did not hear your question.”

“Where did you go, Grace?”

“Nowhere important, I assure you, my lord.” But she could feel his eyes watching her.

* * *

He had been listening to Lydia’s prattle, but was watching Grace. She was blushing at the mention of a suit of armor in their home, which went by the name of Max. Why would she be so embarrassed by that?

Perhaps it was the mention of a trail of broken hearts she had left behind her that caused her blushes. He certainly was not surprised that she had been asked for her hand in marriage, and more than once, but he found himself wondering who these men were. Did they all spring from the surrounding countryside in Essex, or had it been during her own Season?

In fact, he did not know if she had even had a Season. She was nine years younger than him, and he likely would have given her no notice. But if the offers had come from someone in Town, he might actually know her suitors. Was she embarrassed at the thought of running into one of them while escorting Lydia?

“Perhaps, my dear, we should discuss those prior offers of yours. I might learn what you like and do not like in a suitor.”

If a look could kill, he would definitely be a corpse! “There is nothing to tell, my lord. And, as I told Lydia, it is of no consequence and no business of yours.”

“I am sorry, Grace, I should not have talked of it,” said Lydia, contritely.

“I pray that we may now put an end to this ridiculous topic,” she exclaimed.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He stared at her from under his lazy lids. “Why,” he asked, “did you turn them down?”

At Grace’s angry silence, her sister spoke up. “She assumes she is too old for love, and will not settle for a marriage of convenience. She told me once that none of them made her laugh.” Lydia pursed her lips. “I never knew that would be an object in accepting someone’s suit. But Grace loves to laugh, so it is important to her.”

“Oh, Lydia,” Grace groaned.

Brandon never took his eyes off of Grace. Young Lydia might not understand such a sentiment, but he certainly did. Indeed, it was one of the things he liked most about Grace. However, he had no time to ruminate on it.

“One of them is from home. He never comes to town, so you would not know him.”

“Lydia, say no more on this subject, please? I am thoroughly humiliated.”

“Would you wish to tell this man the truth, Grace?” Brandon asked her quietly, with no hint of his usual sarcasm. He found himself holding his breath while waiting for her answer.

“I do not need to tell him anything at all. Besides, by the time he hears of it, the betrothal will have been broken and I will be back there. And you, sir, were the one who said the fewer the people who know the truth, the better.”

He laughed at her. She continually amazed him with her innocence. “My dear, I do hate to disillusion you, but as the announcement will go in the papers as soon as we arrive in London, he will know of it.” He turned his gaze to Lydia. “They do teach the young men of Essex to read, I presume?”

Lydia smiled, but seemed afraid to say any more. Grace appeared to be thinking of something else.

“An announcement in the papers?” she asked. “Is that necessary?”

“Not to make it known, as the Marchmonts have had a head start, but in terms of propriety, it is definitely necessary,” he said, frustrated. “Grace, you must get it through your head that we are going to do this the proper way. I should have gone immediately to your father, however, I did not wish you to face the London tabbies alone. So, I must settle for sending him a letter as soon as I reach Town.”

He watched as she physically blanched. Prepared for her next thought, he hurried to say, “Yes, yes, I know you are of age, but asking his consent is required for our betrothal to be valid. Your neighbors will know soon enough.”

He knew her conscience was once again pricking her. She looked back and forth to her companions. “Father must know the truth. He certainly knows he never met you before.”

“It is up to you, my dear,” he stated categorically. He leaned forward, face-to-face with her. “You must think seriously before you make the decision to tell him. What will your father do if your Essex suitor goes to him, waving the announcement in the newspaper? Will he be able to convince your young man that we are in love? Will you want him to?” He noticed Grace beginning to twist her hands in agitation. He took them into his. He did not wish to upset her, but she must accept this.

“Listen to me. If you decide to tell your father the entire story, he has no choice but to truly make us marry. I insulted you in public, and his honor and mine require that we wed. If you decide we do not suit a month from now, and end our engagement, I would have to accept it. Your father would not. He would still demand that you marry me.”

“This is a nightmare. My lord, I...I...cannot.”

Lydia broke the tension with her question. “You insulted her? When? How?” He saw the righteous indignation take over her expression, and laughed.

Grace looked at him as if she would like to land him a facer. “Lydia, it makes no difference,” she said. “Leave it be.”

“I was caught gazing into her eyes and I kissed her hands tenderly. It was at the inn. Did Grace not tell you? Actually, I also kissed her lips, but no one saw that, so it cannot be part of the reason.” He grinned, winking at her.

“Of course I did not tell her.” Her color once again heightened.

Now he was surprised. “What in the world do you expect her to do when she sees us kiss in London? It would certainly not do to have her be surprised or shocked.” He shook his head in exasperation. “No one will believe us to be in love at this rate.”

Lydia was amazed. “He kissed you, Grace? Then there should be no farce, you must marry!”

Grace’s ire rose. Taking matters into her practical hands, she said, “This has gone far enough. Lydia, I told you the Marchmonts saw us in a compromising position. The exact nature of the incident makes no difference.” She turned fiery green eyes on him and said, “If you make one sound, say one more word, I will box your ears. I vow I will.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender.

“As far as kissing in London, Lydia will see us together and will not be shocked by an occasional kiss on the hand, or you standing up with me for more than two dances, which is all Society would expect from an engaged couple.”

He made a negligent gesture. “We are almost to Town—let us not arrive in fisticuffs. I think, however, we must come to a final decision.” He turned serious once again. “Grace, are we to go ahead with our plans for a betrothal that will be broken once Lydia has made her match?”

“My lord, my father...”

“As I said before, I will write to your father posthaste. Did you not say that he rarely comes to London?” At her nod, he continued, “I will create an excuse for not calling on him before speaking to you, and I will promise him a visit to arrange all of the settlements.”

He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting him. “I know you do not wish it to go so far, but as I told you from the beginning, I am honor bound to do so.”

“Do you think I am happy about that? I may have ruined your life as well as mine. I do not take that as lightly as you do, my lord.”

He must make her see it was in the best interest of all three of them. “We are doing everything in the proper way to protect us all. You will be betrothed to me, and either you will find reason to break it off later in the Season, or you and I will be married by the end of it. I assure you, I must take every precaution to be an honorable gentleman and to keep your reputation intact, as well as mine. If I did not write to your father or put a notice in the Times, no one would believe us.”

He did not even wish to think about what might happen should Lord Langdon think the engagement anything other than honorable and appropriate.

He went on, “Grace, you cannot dismiss the signs of affections that will be required. With my reputation, if I am to have fallen in love, the only way Society will believe it is if they see it. There must be some such contact.” He waited, trying to be prepared for whatever spirited reaction she would show him.

That she would be rational had never occurred to him!

“My lord, as we both know, to be thought in each other’s pocket is very bad ton, and I suppose you would hate that even if you were in love.” He was becoming quite reconciled to the fact that she would always surprise him. “Couples do not kiss each other in public. So we will show the required amount of affection, when necessary, and we will act like rational adults the remainder of the time.” She turned to look out the window and began to hum to herself. Maybe it gave her some sort of peace in the middle of a brangle. Whatever the reason, it was a clear indication that the conversation was at an end.

As they were now on the outskirts of London, he let it drop, while Lydia pointed out some sights in excitement. Grace was naive, but beautiful and intelligent, and if she thought for one minute he was going to change his personality, she had a few surprises of her own in store!