Grace (20 page)

Grace, Faith, and Aunt Cleo had already entered their box and were busy greeting a steady stream of visitors, Faith with her usual unruffled charm, and Grace with a slightly strained smile. During the day her stomach had finally settled, but the throbbing in her head had only intensified. Using her nonexistent ankle injury as an excuse, Grace had done her best to get out of their plans for the evening. Aunt Cleo had smiled at her in a strange, knowing way, and announced that they would all attend the theater instead of a ball, so that Grace could sit and rest her ankle, rather than have to miss an entire evening out.

So here she sat, smiling dutifully at each haughty dowager and wizened old gentleman to whom she received an introduction. She prayed for the moment when everyone would find their own boxes and the gaslights would dim, thus allowing her a small amount of relief.

Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, the orchestra finally began tuning up. One by one people began to take their seats, and the last visitor slowly left their box. Gone until intermission, Grace thought wearily. She prepared to take a much-needed nap as the lights went down. Just as she closed her eyes, Faith poked her in the ribs.

Grace looked at her sister in surprise. Faith was rarely so indecorous as to actually poke someone. She saw Faith staring in shock across the theater at a box above and to the left of the one they occupied. Curious, she followed her
sister’s gaze, then sucked in her breath. The Earl of Hunt-wick had just seated himself beside a beautiful lady Grace did not recognize.

The unknown woman was lovely in a calm, sedate manner—lovely, in fact, in every way that Grace was not. She had shining dark hair pulled back into a smooth bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pale pink gown of simple, elegant lines that bespoke sublime breeding and great wealth. As Grace watched, the lady leaned over and spoke to Trevor, resting a graceful hand familiarly on his arm. Trevor grinned in response to whatever she said, that quick, slashing smile that always made Grace weak in the center of her stomach.

Grace felt her heart begin to pound rapidly. She stood up without knowing she did so, her hands gripping the railing of the box so hard that her knuckles turned white. She stared across the theater at the evidence of Trevor’s betrayal.

Vaguely, she heard Faith hiss at her from behind to sit down, but Grace stood stock-still, oblivious as she watched Trevor lean over and whisper something in the lady’s ear that made her laugh aloud. His gaze skipped across the boxes without really registering their occupants. Until his green eyes collided with Grace’s furious blue ones.

Even across the room, Trevor could feel her blazing anger reaching out to him like a coiled whip, tangible, real, and deadly. The sudden realization of what prompted her ire sent a soaring sense of triumph through him. He smiled across the space in satisfaction, well pleased with this evidence of the fact that Grace was jealous.

If Grace had been angry before, she became positively livid when she saw the smug, self-assured smile sweep across Trevor’s handsome face. She knew, with vile self-loathing, exactly why he had smiled, and that she herself had provided him with the ammunition he wanted and needed to use against her. “Bloody hell,” she muttered, and
dropped back into her seat in an unladylike heap. She leaned back in her chair until Aunt Cleo’s enormous turban obscured her from Trevor’s line of vision.

“Who is she?” Faith asked without taking her eyes from the stage, her lips barely moving.

“Who cares?” said Grace, her voice petulant.

“You care, dear sister. What’s more, the entire theater knows it.” Faith nodded toward the rest of the boxes, where people whispered, some glancing and even pointing in their direction. “Sit up straight now, and swallow your pride, Grace. By midnight the rest of the ton will know, too.”

She spoke the truth. Pride dictated that she compose herself and give the gossips no more fodder than she already had. She straightened her shoulders and turned her face toward the stage, which was nothing but a blur. Her mind raced feverishly. She considered and rejected several plans by which to extricate herself from the agreement with Trevor.

The thought of returning home to the peace and quiet of Pelthamshire was more than tempting, but the realization that Huntwick would certainly follow her marred that possibility. Refusing to see him had not worked in the past, and besides, she hardly relished the thought of barricading herself in her room for days on end. Ten days! Ten days still remained of the original fourteen she had promised Trevor. She could find no solution. She would just have to grit her teeth and stick it out.

Then a flash of inspiration struck and she sat up straighter in her seat. She would find spending time with Trevor much easier if she had a goal, a definitive reason for doing so. Grace smiled to herself. She could suffer now for the greater reward of beating him at the game. She would simply kill him with kindness. She would be so utterly agreeable, so nauseatingly adoring, that one of two things would happen: Trevor would either be smugly certain of his victory,
which would make handing him his defeat all the sweeter, or he would realize he could not stomach her presence even if he
did
manage to win the wager.

Elation soared through her. She turned to look again in the direction of Trevor’s box. Just as she had expected, he was still looking directly at her. She gave him a sweet smile and a little wave, which he acknowledged with a slightly surprised nod. Grace returned her attention to the stage and concentrated on enjoying the rest of the opera.

W
hat are you doing?” Faith asked.

Grace sat quietly upon the third step from the bottom, elbows on her knees, her small chin propped in her hands. Her eyes were fixed on the massive front door at the end of the long foyer. “I’m sitting,” she replied.

“Why are you sitting?” Faith asked with a puzzled frown. She sat down on the step next to Grace, leaned forward, and peered at the front door in confusion for a moment. The door looked just as it always had to her.

“I’m waiting, of course.”

“For what, please?”

“For whom,” corrected Grace.

“All right, for whom?” Faith amended patiently.

Grace smiled pleasantly at the door. “A low, morally corrupt, conniving, degenerate scoundrel.” Her voice was congenial. She might well have said she was waiting for the morning post.

“Lord Caldwell?”

“The same.”

Faith searched her sister’s composed face for any sign of the anger that should have accompanied Grace’s colorful description, but could find nothing unpleasant in her calm, unruffled features. “How do you know he’s coming?”

“He sent flowers with a note stating his intention to call at eleven to take me driving in the park.” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she looked away from the door for a moment to address her sister.“Would you like to go with us?”

“That depends,” said Faith with a direct look.

“On what?” Grace glanced again down the foyer. Her face brightened as she heard a conveyance pull up in front of the town house.

Faith shook her head. Whatever freakish plot her sister had contrived in order to punish Trevor, she knew from the way Grace was acting that she would certainly see it through. Nevertheless, she tried to divert her from what was surely a reckless path. “It depends upon what you intend to do about his lordship’s choice of escort last night.”

Grace grinned, her dimples flashing impishly. “Nothing,” she replied. The sound of the knocker echoed through the foyer, and Greaves shuffled toward the door. “Nothing at all,” she added under her breath. She stood and fixed her most dazzling smile on the tall man who stepped through the door.

“Good morning, Grace,” Trevor said. He smiled with pleasure at the breathtaking vision moving toward him, her face radiant, both hands outstretched in welcome.

She wore a high-waisted cream silk walking dress accented with tiny cobalt ribbons tied in cunning little bows at intervals on the scooped neckline, around the cuff of her small puffed sleeves, and along the scalloped hemline. A wide sash in the same lively shade of blue ran beneath her breasts and tied in a flat bow in the back, the ends falling in long, trailing streamers that reached almost to the floor, fluttering gaily behind her as she walked. Perfectly matched slippers and gloves encased her dainty feet and hands, and she wore her flaming hair pulled back from her face, secured at the crown with a blue filigree clip, then left to fall
in riotous abandon well past her shoulders. The effect was simple, fresh, and incredibly alluring.

Trevor caught her gloved hands in his, bringing them both to his mouth for a kiss, unable to take his eyes from her entrancing smile. Her skin tingled above the gloves where his lips brushed her wrists. Grace fought the overwhelming urge to snatch back her hands, to turn and run. Instead, she smiled up at him in what she hoped would pass for adoration.“Good morning to you, my lord,” she said.

Although he had not set out the previous evening with the intention to do so, Trevor decided that making Grace jealous had been a good move. He had fully expected to find her coldly furious, spoiling for a fight. Instead, she stood before him this morning voluntarily holding his hands and practically simpering. He frowned, his pleasure turning to suspicion, suddenly unable to reconcile this previously unseen side of Grace. He narrowed his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Oops!
thought Grace. She must have laid it on a bit thick. Deliberately, she made herself look puzzled. She reached up as though checking her hair, then looked down at her dress in distress. “This isn’t all right for our drive?”

Faith shook her head and rolled her eyes, her sister’s ploy suddenly plain. Yet Trevor fell neatly into the trap. He hastily assured Grace she looked as lovely as always, then asked solicitously if she would like to depart. Faith nearly snorted in disgust.

Grace brightened. “Oh, yes, my lord,” she said with bubbling enthusiasm. “Would you mind terribly if Faith joined us? After I described your beautiful horses to her, she said she simply
had
to see them for herself. Isn’t that right, Faith?” Grace asked, turning to her sister for confirmation.

With Trevor and Grace looking at her expectantly, Faith searched for an answer both truthful and in keeping with
her sister’s story. “I’ve heard they’re quite something, my lord,” she managed politely, mentally throttling Grace for involving her in this deception.

“Of course you must come with us, then,” agreed Trevor. He gallantly held his free arm out to Faith. Grace quaintly wrinkled her little nose and batted her eyes up at Trevor, while clinging to him as though she never intended to let him go.

As he handed both girls up into his landau, Trevor mentally scrapped his tentative plan to get Grace off alone somewhere for a few moments of tender persuasion. He almost groaned in disappointment as he looked up at her, talking animatedly with her mostly silent sister. He longed to push his hands into her heavy hair and turn her face to his for a deep kiss. Resolutely, he swung up and seated himself across from the two girls, and the spirited team sprang into motion at the command of Trevor’s coachman. The horses settled into a smart trot and headed toward the park; Grace was already controlling nearly all of the conversation.

How strange, Trevor thought, that he had never noticed Grace’s talkative nature—the first characteristic of hers he found he disliked. She prattled on endlessly in a mindless monologue, leaping from topic to inane topic with astonishing speed. He felt himself growing annoyed. When she switched from discussing the latest gossip and began to describe and critique the clothing of the friends and acquaintances they passed along the way, he found he could no longer stand it. “Miss Ackerly!” he broke in.

“Yes, my lord?” both young women said in unison.

“I was speaking to Miss Faith, my dear,” he said to Grace. She gazed at him. The rapt, adoring expression in her sapphire eyes reminded him of a cocker spaniel. She looked crestfallen, but obediently subsided with a pretty little pout.

“Yes, my lord?” Faith repeated in her quiet voice, her calm gray eyes leveled at him.

“Are you enjoying the Season?”

Faith opened her mouth to answer, but Grace immediately piped up. “Oh, yes, my lord, she’s having the most
perfectly
wonderful time! Such scrumptiously lavish parties and balls, and so many invitations that one can hardly
begin
to decide which of them to attend, for, of course, one couldn’t
possibly
have time enough to get to them all. And, of course, nothing was at
all
fun until you arrived in town, my lord. Oh, I know that I was rather difficult to deal with at first, but you quite surprised me with your sudden interest, especially when I am used to such a quiet country life, with such quiet country activities and such quiet country pastimes. And could
anybody
else have possibly been so utterly patient and kind to me as you have been, my lord, putting up as you have with all my petty little temper tantrums?” She stopped to take a breath, laid a hand on his knee for a moment, then launched right back into speech. “Why, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you simply couldn’t
abide
spending another moment in my terrible, sullen company, and wouldn’t I just deserve it? Oh, look!” she exclaimed suddenly. “There’s Lady Burton in a brand-new white carriage! Oh, isn’t it
shiny!
” She half stood in the swaying landau and waved enthusiastically, nearly toppling out of the vehicle. She recovered her balance and sat down once again, hardly missing a beat as she began going on about Lady Burton’s various coats, hats, and jewels.