Читать книгу Accidental Fiancee - Mary Moore - Страница 13
ОглавлениеWhen they reached their town home in Berkeley Square, Grace asked that she and Lydia be allowed to greet their aunt alone.
“What? Ashamed of me already?” Brandon asked.
She turned and smiled when she saw the amusement in his eyes.
“I would like to explain our betrothal to my aunt without your presence complicating matters.”
She thought he would understand, and she was right. As he handed her down after leading Lydia to the doorstep, he whispered into her ear, “Prepared to face the dragons, love?”
“To tell the truth, I do not think I am at all prepared, my lord. But I did think you might be a little more put out than you appear to be. I admit to being quite exhausted already, and the charade has only just begun.”
“On the contrary, my dear, I believe this will be one of the least tedious Seasons I have attended in a long time!” He kissed her hand and then returned to the carriage, saying, “I will give you a day or two to gather yourselves, and use the excuse of your need to be properly outfitted, but I do not know how long I can keep my sisters tethered. I will put the announcement in the papers tomorrow and will write to your father first thing in the morning. If you need me in the meantime, just send a message to my house in Grosvenor Square.”
He stepped away from the carriage once again and walked back to Grace. He leaned down close and whispered, “Try to keep from rescuing any other poor unsuspecting souls until you hear from me.” He then entered the carriage, tapped the ceiling with his cane, and he was gone before she could say a word.
Upon entering her home, Grace found their ancient London butler waiting patiently for her to enter as the trunks were brought in by the footmen. “Welcome to London, my lady,” Jamison said in his stateliest manner. “Lady Lydia has already joined your aunt in the drawing room. If you will permit me to take your cloak and hat, you may join them there while I send for the tea tray.”
“Jamison, you always know just what the situation calls for. It is good to see you again, too.”
Grace had not been to the town house in almost two years and realized she had forgotten how beautiful it was. Her mother had done the interior decor, and since her father rarely left Pennington Abbey now, everything remained much the same. Her mother had used several of the antique tapestries she so loved to adorn the entry hall. They struck awe and drew the eye upward for closer inspection.
Grace always thought it the most spectacular room in the house, with the tapestries and the Baccarat crystal chandelier from the seventeenth century. But, of course, the best piece by far was Max. When she was very little, she’d been almost afraid of the intimidating full suit of armor. But as she got older, her love for him grew. Right now, he was a welcome sight. “How are you, Max?” she said aloud. “Have you missed me, my knight?” she whispered.
Grace looked around and wished she were here as Lydia’s chaperone, as she’d planned, rather than as the betrothed of London’s most notable rake. And she wished more than anything that she did not have to deceive her aunt and her father. Would that it were not so important for Lydia. But it was too late to repine now, so she turned to the drawing room to keep her aunt from having to search for her.
She crossed the threshold and stopped to take in the room and the two women seated on the divan. She had forgotten how beautiful this room was, as well, done in subtle shades of rose. With the fire and the candles, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. For a moment she was sad that her mother was not here.
Her aunt, still regal for her fifty-some years, was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and holding Lydia’s hand. She rose quickly at Grace’s entrance and hurried to embrace her.
“What a watering pot I have become, and you know I am usually no such thing. Stand back and let me look at you. I am afraid my tears started when I saw how much Lydia looks like your mother.”
“I understand completely, Aunt Aggie. It is hard not to miss her when we are here.” Grace received and returned a loving embrace. Her aunt always smelled of rose water and lavender. It made her feel at home.
Grace knew why Aunt Aggie had insisted upon her help to chaperone Lydia. Just as Grace believed Lydia was wasted in Essex, so Agatha believed Grace herself was. She had no doubt Aunt Aggie planned some husband shopping for her, as well. At least this fantastic tale concerning Lord Weston would put a stop to that. She knew her aunt still had hopes for her. But Aunt Aggie would not understand. Grace wanted love. She wanted a marriage like her parents had; they had shared everything. But at six and twenty, she doubted she would meet such a man.
Her aunt placed her hand in the crook of Grace’s arm and led her to the chair in front of the fireplace, across from Lydia.
“The thing we need to do in London, girls, is highlight your differences.” Grace was brought back to the present at her aunt’s words. “Lydia, in the country, men are as much interested in experience with estate matters as beauty, and if my letters from your father are any indication, Grace has both in abundance. There are just as many men, admittedly more in London, who want more ladylike accomplishments and a quiet demeanor, as well as beauty. When we go shopping this week, we will take all of these things into consideration, and you both will take the Town by storm!”
The time had come. She must tell her aunt about Lord Weston. She had secretly held the hope that Aunt Aggie had already heard the rumors and would berate her almost as soon as she walked in the door. Perhaps Lord Weston had exaggerated the Marchmonts’ power.
“Aunt Aggie, we feared word would arrive ahead of us, but it seems you have not heard about the...betrothal?”
“The betrothal?” Aggie exclaimed. “Are you referring to the engagement of Lord Weston? I did not realize you had ever met him. The Marchmonts have been spreading the tale but I put no stock in it. He has yet to be caught...” Suddenly she looked at her blushing niece. “Never say...you do not mean you are the ‘nobody?’”
Grace sighed. She remembered she was supposed to be in love with Lord Weston. “The announcement is to be in the papers tomorrow. I am so sorry we could not let you know before you heard it in Town. It all happened so quickly.” She could not even feign happiness these first few hours in London. She and Lydia would both be ruined at this rate.
Her aunt turned her head toward Grace with eyes open wide. “Grace, my darling!” she gushed, as she jumped up and pulled her out of her chair, to embrace her again. “Why, this is all that is wonderful. Finally, you have met the man who will appreciate your character as well as your beauty.”
Grace was stunned. “Pardon, Aunt, I thought you would be a little more concerned. I know he has somewhat of a reputation!”
“Nonsense! Lord Weston has had a hard life, and in my opinion, he has become so bored with the ton that many of the most outlandish exploits he devises are for his own amusement. All he needed was the right woman to straighten him up—you!”
She was smiling from ear to ear. “I cannot wait until all of London finds out tomorrow that it is true and it took my special niece to catch him!” She actually clapped her hands!
“And as for you, Lydia,” Aunt Aggie continued, completely unaware of the nervous tension in the room, “with your sister settled so well, we will have every other man in London bowled over by you! We would have done just fine with my connections, you know, but with Lord Weston’s sisters as sponsors, you will be invited everywhere!”
Grace felt awful. “Aunt, I have not even met Lord Weston’s sisters. We cannot vouch for their cooperation when they find out he is marrying a country nobody.”
“What is this all about, Grace?” asked her aunt. “You must not know Brandon Roth very well if you think he will allow his sisters to treat you with anything but respect.”
Lydia said, “Aunt Aggie, that is just it, you see. Grace does not know him very well. They met, and before any of us knew what had happened, they were betrothed. It has been a whirlwind, and you know, dear aunt, Grace has never liked to be the center of attention.”
Grace sent her sister a silent look of thanks for her gentle description of events, but still wrung her hands.
“Dinner!” Agatha proclaimed. “That is what we need. I will hear the story over dinner and we will decide how best to proceed. You both run upstairs to your rooms to freshen up and I will see you in half an hour.”
As Grace walked past Max to go up to her room, she looked up at him and sighed. “Rescue me, my knight in shining armor,” she said in a low voice. But Max stood steadfast and stoic. “I know, dear friend, I’ve gotten myself into hot water and there’s no rescuing me this time!”
* * *
Lord Weston’s temper flared as his sisters overtaxed his patience.
Upon arriving at his home and being welcomed by his butler, he had settled into his library in front of a roaring fire. His thoughts were on the past two days and a pair of marvelous green eyes. He was tired, but Hinson had informed him that his sisters had called several times already, so he knew he did not have long to wait for them. Face them he would, but he would give a great sum of money to be left alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day.
Within the half hour, Hinson again knocked on his library door and announced that Lady Wright and Mrs. Hale had been shown into the front drawing room. He rose and followed his butler out. He teased his starchy retainer by saying, “On the attack, are they, Hinson?”
“I am sure I could not say, my lord,” he responded very properly. “They have been all that is polite each time they have come.”
“They must be sickening for something,” Brandon muttered as he turned the door handle to the drawing room. As he entered, a slightly older, female version of himself came to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Brandon, I am so happy you are home. We heard of your betrothal. It is glad tidings, indeed!”
Brandon broke into an Irish brogue to tease her. “Maggie, me dear, I do believe you’re lookin’ prettier than the last time I saw ye! How is that Irish husband of yours? I hope ye’ll tell me he’s in Toon, too, so we can have a ride together for old time’s sake.”
“Oh, stop making fun,” she said, smiling. “He is not with me this time. I came to refurbish my wardrobe and see my old friends this Season. But it was worth leaving Patrick and the boys to know I will be here for your wedding.” She hugged him again and bade him sit with them.
His sister Maggie had always been his favorite. She was older than him by four years, but she adored her younger brother. He would never forget that whenever his father had belittled or berated him, Maggie always took Brandon’s side, and came to his room afterward with a treat.
As he approached the fire and his oldest sister, he was expecting a very different welcome. “Good evening, Liza,” he stated, bowing his head. “What a surprise to find my two siblings visiting me so soon upon my return.” He smiled at her innocently.
“Brandon, do not call me that horrid nickname, and do not pretend you are at all surprised to see us. We want the truth about this betrothal so we may scotch the rumor mill. We will not be put off.”
“I am fine, Elizabeth. How good of you to ask. I hope you, too, are well.” He got too much enjoyment out of baiting her.
She sniffed. “I am in no mood for your nonsense. I do not appreciate the fact that Amelia Broadstone brought me the information that my brother is engaged.”
“You should, perhaps, discuss that with Amelia Broadstone. I do not know the lady, but I do not doubt that she was only thinking of you as she spread the tale.”
“Spare me your sarcasm and tell us what you have done this time.”
At that moment there was a knock on the door and he was surprised for a moment that the tea tray was being brought in. Realization was not long in coming. “Elizabeth, feel free to order my servants around anytime you wish.”
“Must you two always be at loggerheads? I have not seen either of you in over a year and I feel like I am in the exact same conversation as last time!” Maggie interrupted, very put out.
“A thousand apologies, Maggie, me love, though if we cannot argue, we will be left with nothing to say. You have just condemned us to being dead bores.” He pinched her cheek and shuddered. “Anything but that. My reputation, Maggie, you must remember my reputation!” He went to lean against the mantel, one booted foot crossed over the other. “The rumors are true.” He loved the gasps, even knowing they were for different reasons.
“Oh, Brandon, I am so happy for you. Who is she? The gossipmongers are calling her a nobody, but I assume that is because they do not know who she is.” She stopped as something occurred to her. “Oh, dear, what have you told her about us?”
“Actually, I told her I would give her a few days to settle in and replenish her wardrobe before introducing you to her. You will not have long to wait.”
Elizabeth drawled from the sofa, “Then your betrothed is not Lady Winslow?”
He was startled. “Of course not. Where would you get such an idea?”
“So you have caused another scandal. I cannot decide which is worse, that you might have married that awful widow, or that you have apparently jilted her for someone else.”
“Well, when you decide, be sure to apprise me of it,” he said sternly. His steely voice had put down the pretensions of many ladies over the years, and Elizabeth had just gotten her own dose of it.
Sadly, his sister had been raised with their father’s scorn and was largely immune to even Brandon’s harshest tones. “Come down off your high horse, Brandon. We have been waiting this age for you to do your duty and marry, and then we hear you are engaged to a woman no one has ever heard of.” She sighed. “I think we may be allowed a little pique at your behavior.”
“Of course, you are allowed all of the temper you wish.”
“That is enough, both of you.” Maggie stood and glared at them. “Elizabeth, Brandon told us ten minutes ago he was willing to tell us what we wanted to know about his betrothed, but your barbed remarks have kept us in the dark still.”
“My noble defender!” Brandon bowed his head and kissed the tip of his fingers to her.
“Do not be flirting with me,” she said. “You are just as bad as Liza—I mean Elizabeth.”
He wanted to word his announcement carefully. Liza was determined to be unpleasant and Maggie already pictured him with six children. He decided to honor Grace’s wishes against lying to them.
“Her name is Lady Grace Endicott and she is the Earl of Pennington’s daughter.”
Elizabeth could not hold back her exclamation. “I do not know the Earl of Pennington, but if you have been smart enough to choose an earl’s daughter, then I owe you an apology!”
“I can die happy now, to be sure,” he muttered.
“Go on, Brandon.”
“I did decide during the Little Season that I might look around for a wife—doing my duty, isn’t that what you call it, Elizabeth? You may think what you like about Patrice Winslow, but I have never offered for her or given her cause to believe that I would. You may ease your minds on that score.
“I recently attended a house party in Rivenhall. While in Essex, I was introduced to Lady Grace. Her father and I share an interest in the Elgin Marbles.” Grace would have been proud of him, not a single untruth. He smiled at the thought. “My admiration of Lady Grace grew rather quickly and I offered for her.” Still the truth, although stretched to the breaking point.
“We wished to keep our betrothal a secret, as I had not yet been able to inform you. However, we both stopped at the same inn on our way to London. Grace is bringing her sister to Town for her come-out,” he added in the way of explanation. “Unfortunately, the Marchmonts were staying at the same inn and quickly saw my attachment to Grace.” He did not owe his starched-up sister any more details.
“I knew they would gossip, no matter what the circumstances, and we did not wish them to spread any malicious tale, so we informed them of our betrothal. They beat us to London. I apologize that you had to find out that way. It was certainly not our intention.
“The announcement will be in the papers tomorrow and I would ask that you both help us get over the rough ground as well as we can. What I care about most is that she and her sister are treated with every courtesy and respect.” He said the last looking at Elizabeth.
“I see nothing distasteful in what you have told us. However, the Marchmonts are relating some intimacy between you and the girl. Really, Brandon, you must learn propriety.”
“They saw no inappropriate intimacy, madam, except the kissing of her hand.” He was angry now. He would hear nothing against Grace. “She is a lady in the truest sense of the word, and I will not have her slandered by you or anyone else. You may direct anyone who does straight to me.”
“Yes, yes, this is all well and good. Having their father with them will scotch that type of thing quickly.”
“The earl has not accompanied them to London. Their aunt is chaperoning them. But I believe his name will accomplish the same outcome.”
“Who is this aunt? What is her name?”
“I cannot remember exactly,” he said, stopping as Elizabeth shook her head. “It is Grace’s mother’s sister, so I know her name is not Endicott. I think it begins with a B, but I cannot swear to it. I do know that they call her Aunt Aggie.”
Elizabeth practically jumped out of her seat. “Could it be Agatha Burstow? She has almost as many connections as we do! This gets better and better, and I had not thought it of you. If, when we meet the girl, she is passable and well trained, all will be perfect. We can plan on a wedding at St. George’s in July.”
“Elizabeth, as much as your approval warms my heart,” he said with irony, “I believe Grace is capable of making her own wedding plans. She is not a school room miss. And as to being passable, as long as I feel she is acceptable, I cannot see how that will affect you.”
“Brandon,” said Maggie, having remained silent during his exchange with Elizabeth, “tell me what she is like. Will I like her? Is she pretty? Will she like me?”
“Maggie, your husband’s Irish curiosity is wearing off on you,” he teased. “Is she pretty? Yes, I certainly think so, though I would say she is handsome—even beautiful. She has the most interesting eyes.” Her face rose before him, her verdant eyes laughing at him. “Will you like each other? I hope so. Truth to tell, I have not known her long enough myself to have learned a great deal of her tastes. But she adores her sister, so I would like to think she will like mine. She has an excellent mind and has been helping run her father’s estate for several years.”
“Enough of that drivel, Margaret,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Brandon, you must arrange a meeting between us as soon as possible so these nasty rumors may be put to rest. Do you think we could arrange tea with Mrs. Burstow two days hence? We may then decide the best plan of presentation and at which affairs you should start the Season.”
He held back a sharp response. “I told you at the start that I would give them the time they needed before being available to you. Two days’ time is barely enough. I will ask them when it is convenient for them, but if they agree to see you early, I will hear no complaints about their outmoded dress or the house being at sixes and sevens.”
“Brandon, I don’t care a jot how they are dressed. I want to meet the woman you love.”
* * *
“There is nothing of use here,” Aunt Aggie exclaimed as she threw gown after gown on the bed and over chairs, while rummaging through their wardrobes the next morning. “Girls, get your hats, we are going shopping!”
Lydia was very excited to see London fashions, but Grace knew this was all a waste of time and money on her behalf.
“I do not wish to hear one word from you, my dear,” her aunt scolded when she tried to resist. “You are to be a marchioness and will dress accordingly.” She knew no way to tell her aunt the new clothes would not be needed, so she accepted defeat as graciously as she could.
Day and walking dresses, evening and ball gowns were ordered for each of them! That was the minimum Aunt Aggie would allow. She reminded her modiste of the business she had referred her way over the years, and graciously extracted a promise that at least two of the day dresses would be ready the next morning. Reminding the woman that she was dressing a future marchioness sealed the bargain.
When they returned to Berkeley Square, the post awaited them, and the girls jumped when Aunt Aggie shrieked. “Dear Grace, Lord Weston is asking permission to bring his sisters here the day after tomorrow to meet you.” She returned the missive to the salver. “That settles it. Tomorrow we will have to go to the milliners for hats and the bootmakers for shoes. Oh, dear, and we must go to Pantheon’s Bazaar for your underclothes and stockings. It seems the marquess is eager to present you to his sisters. That is as it should be, and we will be ready!”
The day after tomorrow? Things were moving too fast for Grace. This Season was supposed to be about Lydia, and she would remind them of that. She would also have to show Lord Weston that his high-handedness would not be tolerated. He did not even have the courtesy to ask if it was convenient for them!
“Grace, there is a missive for you here, as well,” Lydia said, exclaiming over the lovely vellum.
“I cannot image who would be writing to me,” she said, perplexed. Lord Weston would communicate through her chaperone, as was proper. She glanced at the frank on the envelope. It was from Lord Weston. He did, indeed, flout Society without a care! As she unfolded the page, a newspaper clipping drifted out of the note. She bent to pick it up and noticed it was their betrothal announcement cut from the London Gazette. She turned her attention to his missive, and blushed at the first line.
Dear Grace,
I hope the day after tomorrow is not too inconvenient for you and your aunt. I fear our desire to take things slowly was a bit unrealistic. According to my sisters, rumors run rampant, and they are likely correct (as much as I hate to admit it). We must put a halt to the gossip.
However, if you are not comfortable about the day after tomorrow, please let me know and I will tie my sisters up somewhere until a better time presents itself.
Your Servant,
B.R.
P.S. I do hope the announcement meets with your approval. I left out the explanation of our falling head over heels in love to save space. I will be more effusive in the letter to your father.
Grace laughed out loud and supposed that must be the whole problem with rakes—their charm!
“Does his missive to you say anything different, Grace, dear?” Aunt Aggie asked, as she surreptitiously tried to read the letter over Grace’s shoulder.
“No, Aunt, except that Lord Weston does say if the day after tomorrow is not convenient, we must let him know and he will set a later date.”
“I suppose we may as well leave it as it is,” her aunt said with a martyred expression. “I have never met the younger one, but I can tell you from experience that his eldest sister, Lady Wright, sets herself up as a leader in Society.” She whispered to Grace so Lydia would not hear, “I believe she is a veritable dragon.”
“If you truly believe so then you and her brother agree wholeheartedly, dear aunt!”
