Never a Gentleman (19 page)

And that was what troubled her the most. Not that she wanted to belong. She knew that feeling all too well. But she couldn’t
remember ever wanting it this…
fiercely
.

She couldn’t understand it. Of course he was handsome; he was witty and intelligent, honorable, and often kind. But so were
most of her father’s officers. What could be the indefinable something that set him apart? Why, of all men, was she so susceptible
to Diccan Hilliard? And what could it lead to?

Chances were, he would never let her close enough to find out. He had made that perfectly clear tonight. His marriage would
mirror his society, polite and amiable, no more. No surprises, no flights of fancy. No lessons from the
zenena
.

It was silly to ask if she could settle for that. She would have to, of course. She had no choice. She just wished she had
something left of her own to hope for. Treasures collected in an empty house that would be hers if she only waited long enough.
Independence, peace, beauty. But she would never grow out of marriage, or be able to count the days ’til it was over. It would
be over when she was dead. And she had to find a way to accommodate herself to it. To him.

Impatient with herself, she walked over to the window that overlooked Green Park. It was dark, with only a few gaslights to
push away the night. It was too late even for the
ton
to be out, so she was surprised to see a man standing across the street looking directly up at her.

For a second she froze, surprised. He looked like a gentleman, but he wasn’t in evening attire. He was smiling, as if holding
some private joke to himself. And he was watching her, head back, hands in pockets. She felt a chill snake down her back.
Was he watching the hotel, or her specifically? He couldn’t have seen her by accident, because he’d been facing her when she’d
opened her second floor curtain. Could he have something to do with Diccan’s mission? Not knowing what else to do, she closed
the curtains and decided to tell Diccan when she saw him. Whenever she saw him.

He wasn’t home by the time she and Schroeder cleaned out her wardrobe the next day.

“Take what you want, Schroeder,” she told the abigail as she folded her gray gowns into neat piles on her bed. “Sell them
with my blessings. I’ll keep these for the Army Hospital.”

Grace ran a finger over the gown she’d worn the day before, when she’d sat by a boy dying of infection. She could still see
the glassy distance in his shrunken eyes, hear the death-rattle in his chest. She could smell the thick miasma of that hospital
and feel the hard edge of the stool beneath her thighs. She thought of all the bedsides she’d attended, the amputation tables
and littered battlegrounds. Her problems, after all, weren’t important. Even if Diccan never learned to abide her, she faced
no catastrophe larger than loneliness. She had no right to grieve.

She was so preoccupied with the thought that she didn’t hear the knock on the sitting room door.

“Did no one bother to tell you that you should be lazing on a chaise longue, munching bonbons and reading Minerva Press novels?”
a laughing voice demanded from
the doorway. “This is not how a society matron comports herself.”

Grace swung around to find Kate and Lady Bea standing in the doorway. “Oh, Kate!” She ran over to greet her friends, shamefully
thankful to see them. “And Lady Bea! Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

Kate accepted her hug with raised eyebrows. “Heavens. Of course it is always a privilege to see me, but you sound positively
frantic. Diccan hasn’t been beating you, has he?”

Grace couldn’t prevent a blush. “Of course not. It’s just that I need your particular help.”

Kate clapped her hands. “Excellent. I love being useful. What is it you need? Tips on how to land in the scandal sheets? How
to handle more than one lover? Where to find the best erotic art?”

Well acquainted with Kate’s delight in shocking others, Grace smiled. “I spent ten years in India, Kate. I know perfectly
well where to find erotic art.”

Kate’s laugh was like music to Grace’s ears. “And you haven’t told me?”

It was the sound of a dry cough that brought Grace to her senses. “Oh, Kate, Bea, this is Schroeder, my dresser. Schroeder,
we’ll finish later.”

Schroeder gave a credible curtsy. “Of course, madame.”

Bea squinted at her. “Provenance?” she asked.

Grace smiled. “References?” she translated, long since used to Lady Bea’s unique style of communication. “Diccan found her.”

Now both women stared at the amazingly unruffled Schroeder. Grace intervened before there was a full-scale inquisition. “Schroeder
is helping me pack away my old clothing.”

Kate considered the piles on the bed. “Ah, yes. The uniform of the Peninsular nurse. Excellent timing. Since we’re here and
it’s a glorious day, you can come to Fanchon’s with us to order a new wardrobe. I don’t know why Diccan hasn’t already thought
of it.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Grace beamed. “Because I already did. I’m only waiting now for delivery.”

Kate’s eyebrows comically raised. “Brave girl. She saw you herself?”

“After I invoked both your name and Diccan’s.”

She finally had the chance to receive her hug from Lady Bea. At first sight, Lady Bea would remind one of Diccan’s mother.
As regal as a royal, the elderly daughter of a duke seemed to be looking on the world with stern judgment. After only moments
in her company, though, one couldn’t help but realize that her mien was protection for an uncommonly gentle heart. After a
day, one could also begin to interpret her tangled speech, which had been left permanently affected after a bad injury.

“Forget-me-not,” Bea said with a soft smile, lifting her beringed hand up to cup Grace’s cheek.

Grace brushed a snowy curl back from Bea’s cheek. “I’ve missed you, too. Promise you’ll visit frequently. And that you’ll
help me find a place to live.”

“She wouldn’t miss it,” Kate assured her. “Neither, come to think of it, would I. And you can tell us all about it as we ride
through the park.” She gave Grace a little push. “Bonnets, now.”

“Oh, I don’t…” Grace demurred, looking down at her dress.

Kate gave a gusty sigh. “Don’t tell me I’ve wasted my time with you, Grace. Begin as you mean to go on. Besides,
you’ll be with me, and who will even see you in the shadow of my glory?”

Kate was in her typical daywear. Green and cream, just as Diccan’s mother had been. But all resemblance ended there, as Kate
wore a carriage dress of striped sarcenet, an apple green spencer with slashed Spanish sleeves, and a massive chip straw bonnet,
heavy with fruit.

Kate was right, of course. “As usual,” Grace said, “I bow to your wisdom.”

Donning bonnet and pelisse, Grace led the way down to where the barouche waited out front.

“Where’s Thrasher?” she asked, seeing a tall, middle-aged man standing in the place of Kate’s twelve-year-old tiger. Moon-faced
and slow-moving, the man looked out of place in Kate’s livery.

“This is George,” Kate announced with a pat to his arm. “He asked to see London, so I brought him back from the estate with
me. George has been with me since I was ten. Haven’t you, George?”

George had a smile like an oversized child. “Yes’m, Miss Kate.”

Handing the women up, he took his seat at the back and the barouche set off. It was a day of rare, cloudless skies and soft
breezes. The neighborhood gardens showed off the last of their flowers, and the breeze carried the scent of roses.

The park was crowded, with strollers meandering the paths and vehicles slowly circling the lanes. It was a scene of color
and laughter and beauty, the
haute ton
at its best.

“Now then,” Kate said, nodding to Lady Yardley and her two daughters as they slipped by in a pink carriage that matched their
dresses. “Before we get to you, we have news.”

Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a letter and handed it over. It was franked by Jack Wyndham, the Earl of Gracechuch,
and held an invitation that Grace read with delight.

“Olivia and Jack are getting remarried!” she cried. “Oh, I hope we can go.”

“Of course you’re going,” Kate huffed. “You can’t think that this wedding would be complete without the Three Graces.”

Grace ran a finger across the invitation, as if it could help resurrect those fraught days after Waterloo, when three complete
strangers, summarily dubbed the Three Graces, had formed a true friendship. Grace didn’t even want to contemplate what her
life would have been without her friends.

“There isn’t any way of knowing what Diccan will be doing in another month.”

Kate shrugged and waved to a group of handsome men on horseback. “It doesn’t matter in the least if Diccan is there. You will
be.”

Grace managed a quick smile. “Who am I to argue with you?”

“Exactly. Now then, Grace,” Kate said. “If Fanchon doesn’t have you in a dither, who does?”

Grace instinctively looked around for eavesdroppers. A lot of people were focused on the carriage, but none were close enough
to overhear. “I need lessons.”

Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Considering the things I know, I’m not at all certain I want to hear what in. Shall I be forced to
resort to my vinaigrette?”

“I doubt it. I need to learn how to be a good enough wife for Diccan.”

Both women stared at her. “Are you mad?” Kate retorted. “You’re too good for him already.”

“You know I’m not, Kate. I’m not nearly what Diccan needs. I’ve spent my life with the army, which isn’t exactly a world of
formal dinners and small talk. No one ever taught me tact or etiquette or taboos. Good Lord, the only order of precedence
I know is military. I don’t fit in, Kate.”

“Nonsense,” Kate said, sounding very serious. “You’ve lived in my house for three months. I wouldn’t exactly call you a bumpkin.
You count Lady Castlereagh and the Duke of Wellington as friends, and have spent time in some of the most exotic places in
the world.”

Grace sighed, suddenly hating that word. “In barracks. Not drawing rooms.”

“You know twelve or thirteen languages.”

“Eight, actually. But only curses, drinking toasts, and how to buy a fat chicken. Not exactly polite discourse.”

“You have one of the most insightful minds I’ve ever known.”

Next to Kate, Lady Bea snorted, giving her hand a little wave. “Fur on a chicken.”

It took a second, but Grace finally pulled out Bea’s meaning. “You mean, you don’t need much insight to mingle with society.”

Bea giggled.

Kate considered Grace, uncharacteristically serious. “There’s more to marriage than being introduced to ambassadors,” she
suggested.

Grace nodded. “I know there is. But it’s all of a piece, don’t you see? If I don’t learn to fit into his world, he’ll never
be comfortable with me.”

An image flashed through Grace’s mind of Diccan’s head thrown back above hers, his face taut and his muscles straining. She
could feel him inside her again, for that one
moment, perfectly comfortable. She wanted that moment again and didn’t know how to achieve it.

Lady Kate must have seen something on her face, because she snapped open her umbrella as if it were an offensive weapon. “That
blind fool,” she growled. “I’ll slice his heart out.”

Grace laid a hand on Kate’s arm. “Need I remind you that he neither wanted nor anticipated this marriage? He’s doing the best
he can.”

“Bollocks. His best would be realizing that he’s been given the gift of his life. Why, you need do no more than be yourself
for him to fall in love with you.”

“I’ve tried being myself, Kate,” she said with a wry smile. “Even my mother couldn’t abide me.”

Grace realized her mistake when she saw pity briefly flare in Kate’s eyes. Her face burning, Grace looked out to where the
Serpentine glistened beyond the trees. They were completely stopped now in the middle of the lane, as around them landaus
and curricles waited behind high-blooded horses, and acquaintances called out like birds on a tree. All people who knew each
other, who knew how to dance the society minuet, when Grace couldn’t even figure out how to gain entrance into the room.

“He’s attending embassy functions without me,” she said, not able to face her friend. “I can’t let him get used to that, or
he’ll never think to include me.”

This time there was no mistaking Lady Bea. “Idiot.”

Kate had also taken on a militant look. “In that case, we need to change his mind. I love nothing more than to surprise a
man with what’s right under his nose.” She laughed and patted Lady Bea on the knee. “What do you think, Bea? Will I make a
good governess?”

Bea just laughed, which made Grace finally smile back. Kate’s words eased her panic. She had a plan. She had friends to help
her. She had a goal in sight. So what if it wasn’t the goal she’d hoped for? It would serve. She hoped it would keep her from
simply existing at the far reaches of Diccan’s life.

Kate clapped her hands together. “Excellent. We’ll begin tomorrow. Anything else?”

Grace looked down to her hands. “You put the wedding announcement in the papers.”

Kate grinned. “You figured that out, did you?”

“Diccan’s mother did.”

Bea made a most rude noise, rather like a snorting horse.

Kate scowled. “You’ve met her? Vile woman. Did she crush you with her vast superiority?”

“She made a valiant attempt. I wanted to ask you, though, about what you put in the notice.”

“You mean that your mother is Glorious Georgianna Hewitt? No. I just said General Sir Hillary and Lady Fairchild. The rest
is no one’s business but yours.”

Grace felt the air thin out. “You knew?”

Lady Bea raised a gloved hand. “Cousin.”

“You never said anything.”

“What should we say?” Kate asked nonchalantly. “Unless she shows up in my sitting room, I doubt the problem of dealing with
her will crop up.”

As simple as that. Grace almost laughed out loud. And Kate, ever practical Kate, was already waving to an old woman in a landau.
“Miss Dix,” she said. “Lovely lady. Thinks she’s Galileo.”