Saving Grace (11 page)

There is history between these two.

“You sent me an invitation, did you not?” Lord Sutherland asked, reaching into his coat pocket.

Mr. Preston held up a hand. “No need, Nicholas.” His voice sounded weary. “It pains me that you thought you needed to bring proof. You know you are always welcome in my home. And if Miss Thatcher is the means of bringing you here at last —” His gaze flitted back to Grace, and this time she thought she read regret in the depths of his brown eyes. “If it is she who has helped to breach your censure, then I thank her heartily for it.”

“Temporary, at best,” Lord Sutherland muttered.

Grace looked from one man to the other as an awkward silence ensued. Mr. Preston studied them in a curious way; Lord Sutherland’s mouth had turned down. Grace had the feeling that he wanted to say more but was somewhat taken aback by their host’s generous speech.

“The orchestra is starting a new piece,” Mr. Preston said. “Miss Thatcher, will you do me the honor?” He held out his arm and inclined his head toward the dance floor.

“Of course.” Grace slid her hand from Lord Sutherland’s arm and took up Mr. Preston’s, walking away from her unwanted escort without so much as a backward glance. It was rude of her, but she’d recovered enough from her initial shock that she was beginning to feel furious at his intrusion.

What a mess.
She did not want everything to be all right, and she most certainly would not stay by Mr. Sutherland’s side.

What did he mean by that, anyway?
It wasn’t as if anything could be done to remedy her situation now no matter how much she might wish it so. The thought came with no little regret as she walked at Mr. Preston’s side. He greeted everyone they passed and smiled down at her as if having her at his side were the most delightful of situations. He led her to the center of the floor, where they turned to face each other.

“I have imagined this moment for quite some time,” Mr. Preston whispered conspiratorially before stepping back, separating them to a more respectable distance.

“Oh — you have?” A ridiculous response, but what else was she to say?
The truth, of course.
Nothing else would do. She was in enough of a predicament already, and the last thing she needed was to encourage any man’s affections. Especially one whose attention she might actually enjoy. “I must confess that I’ve no idea where we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh.”
Is that all I can say? He’ll think me a dimwit
. “But you said —”

“That it was so good to
see
you again,” Mr. Preston clarified. “Though you don’t know me, I rather feel as if I am acquainted with you. For the last few years, my box at the theater has been near your grandfather’s. Many a time I have watched as you wheeled him into his box and attended to him. He seemed most fortunate to have you and your siblings to care for him so.”

“It was he who cared for us.” Inwardly, Grace sighed with relief, grateful she had not forgotten making Mr. Preston’s acquaintance.
Somehow she didn’t think she would have forgotten, had she met him before tonight. Something about him seemed utterly
unforgettable
. An aura of happiness filled the air about him, as if he was unaffected by life’s cares, which weighed so many down, herself included. “So — we haven’t ever actually spoken before today?”

“We have not,” Mr. Preston confirmed. “Though as I said, I have for some time felt as though I know you. Watching you with your grandfather was oft more touching than watching the stage. You obviously loved him a great deal and did all you could to see to his comfort and care.”

“I do — I did.” Their eyes met, and to her dismay, Grace found hers filling with tears. She looked quickly away and was further distressed to see that the set that had formed around them was quite large.

So many people to face, and I am in trouble already
. She was not at all comfortable with the way Mr. Preston made her feel — as if he were an old friend she might confide in.

He is making me
feel.

That was the problem. None of the other men her father had sent her to meet had made her anything but furious or frightened. Mr. Preston had dredged up far more — and better — emotions simply by smiling at her.

The music began, and Grace blinked away moisture in her eyes. She turned to Mr. Preston once more and held the sides of her gown as she sank into a curtsy to match his bow. They stepped forward, met in the middle, and turned ‘round to meet again.

“I do thank you for rescuing me from Lord Sutherland.” She forced herself to mention him — and her shame — again.

Mr. Preston frowned. “Has he hurt you in any way?”

His concern touched her. How lovely it would have been if he’d have come to her rescue earlier — first at Sir Lidgate’s and then at Sutherland Hall. She shook her head as they parted. “I am unharmed. Though I am certain you have heard the rumors.” She whirled away before he could answer, then wound in and out of the set.

“The rumors are very troubling and quite serious,” Mr. Preston said, as soon as they were paired again. “I’ve been worried for you.”

“For me?” When had anyone — other than Grandfather, and perhaps Miranda or Harrison — ever worried about her? “I am quite all right.” Grace tried to recall Miranda’s and Harrison’s advice.

Be vague. Noncommittal.
They’d certainly been right about her wanting to tell the truth. She wanted nothing more than to explain her innocence to Mr. Preston. Instead, she changed the subject.

“I feel at an extreme disadvantage, never having observed you — as you have me — before tonight. As I did not have opportunity to properly make your acquaintance during dinner, will you tell me of yourself?”

Mr. Preston looked taken aback by the abrupt change of topic, but after a moment’s hesitation, and another rotation of partners, he answered. “I have lived here for five years — the best years of my life. Before that, I studied medicine. When I inherited, I left London and retired here.”

“Do you prefer the country to London?” Grace asked, hoping — for some reason — he did.

“I prefer it immensely,” Mr. Preston said. “I return to London as little as possible. I find everything far better in the country. Or perhaps it is only that I am far more suited to this life than to life in the city.”

“I quite agree,” Grace said. “The country is a vast improvement over London.” She felt herself smiling as they drew close again and he turned her around. His touch was light, barely there at all, but it
touched her
, nevertheless.

If Mr. Preston noticed that she was flustered, he did not show it. Nor did he return to the topic of her disgrace. “You miss your grandfather,” he said upon their next meeting at the center.

Grace nodded. “Terribly. My years with him were the best of my life.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Mr. Preston said with such sincerity that Grace felt a tiny portion of her heart opening. She struggled to contain it, lest the floodgate of sorrow she’d been holding in these many months come pouring out.

They met for three times more, during which they both were silent. Grace grappled with her thoughts and emotions, trying to get both under control — no simple task with the way Mr. Preston watched her, ever attentive, a thoughtful expression crinkling the corners of his eyes. At last the dance ended, and she was never more grateful and regretful for such a thing to be done.

“Thank you,” Grace murmured, curtsying once more. Though the steps had been light and shouldn’t have been the least taxing, she felt weary. Her head ached, and she felt desperate to find a cool drink and a seat in which to sit and make use of her fan.

It wasn’t to be.

She’d barely risen from her curtsy and started for the side of the hall when she felt a hand upon her back. She turned quickly, looking into Lord Sutherland’s shoulder as he led her — with a far too familiar touch — back to the center of the floor.

More fodder for the gossips
, Grace told herself, resisting the urge to turn around and wrest his arm away.

On the floor again, she was trapped, surrounded by other couples vying for a close position to the biggest pot of gossip to be had for miles around. Reluctantly, she faced her new partner. Lord Sutherland was slightly taller than Mr. Preston and his build more formidable. His light hair was tamed this evening, far from the shaggy mane that had half-covered his face that night in his bedroom. Blue eyes that might have been considered striking — were they not filled with such frost — glared at her. His smile was overly bright.

“What happened to staying close by me tonight?”

“The last time we met was a bit
too
close for my comfort,” Grace said, keeping her chin high.

Lord Sutherland’s eyes widened. “Touché.”

She didn’t care if he thought her clever. She didn’t want him to think anything about her. She wished only that he would go away and let her handle being ruined on her own.

“What is your relationship with Preston?” he asked.

It was on the tip of Grace’s tongue to tell the truth — that she had no relationship with Mr. Preston — but found herself being curt instead. “That is none of your concern.”

Lord Sutherland’s eyes narrowed in evident displeasure. “I think perhaps it
is
. Since rumor has it —” He paused, waiting until the dance had begun and they met at the center, where he whispered so only she could hear. “They say I have taken advantage of you.”

Grace felt her face heat. What a vile man to whisper such words to her here, in the middle of a dance floor packed with people.

“At the very least” — Lord Sutherland’s fingers seemed to burn into her arm as they turned around — “it ought to be your concern. By associating with Mr. Preston, you threaten his tenuous social standing.”

“And what of your standing?” Grace asked. “Are you not concerned as well?” His manner annoyed her. “Should
you
be dancing with me?”

He ignored her question. “Dance with Preston again, and I promise that after tonight, his neighbors and associates will no longer hold him in any sort of regard. In short, Miss Thatcher,
he
will be looked down upon as well.”

Grace met Lord Sutherland’s gaze and could see that he spoke truth. What she did not understand was
why
. And why was he not at least equally concerned about his own standing?

Perhaps he feels some guilt,
she mused, remembering the way he’d treated her that night — not allowing her to leave his room, trapping her against the door, and standing close.

She knew her face was blushing. “What do you suggest?” she asked before they split again. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he moved through the set, bestowing the fiercest of gazes upon each successive partner.

The neighbors will not look down upon him,
she realized.
They will be too frightened.

She strongly suspected that anyone who knew Lord Sutherland dared not besmirch his reputation. In the brief moments she’d spent in his company, she’d found him nothing but imposing and intimidating. If he treated acquaintances this way, she could only imagine how he must conduct himself around strangers. Though his peers might speak of his involvement in the affair behind closed doors, they would likely dare not let their feelings on the subject be known in public.

He is a lord, after all.
And though he might have fallen on difficult financial times — his estate being run down as it was — no doubt his title still carried weight here.
He is a mean lord,
Grace concluded.
Too mean to be bullied by others or trifled with.

And I have trifled.
As he rejoined her, she felt a moment of panic. His piercing gaze seemed to see past her bravado. His grip on her hand was too tight; he swung her too close. His arm was strong around her. His hand lingered at her waist. A new and terrible worry awakened inside of her.

What if he expects — what if he believes that since such a rumor is known …

She didn’t allow herself to finish the thought but instead sent a fleeting smile at Mr. Preston as she whirled past him. There was no equality when comparing the two partners.
Everything about Mr. Preston showed him to be a true gentleman, one so kind and generous that his neighbors would be only too happy to pounce on his misfortunate choice of guests and dance partners.

On the other hand, Lord Sutherland need not worry over repercussions from his supposed misconduct. She guessed that no one would dare cross him, no matter what he was rumored to have done.

An unjust world,
Grace thought, for not the first time, though it was the first time she had considered such from a point of view other than her own. Given her choice of dance partners, she knew whom she would have chosen.

Alas, women cannot choose.

“I suggest you leave,” Lord Sutherland said as they passed each other. “At once.”

“Is that why you came?” Grace asked. “To tell me to leave, so Mr. Preston’s reputation does not suffer?”
She couldn’t imagine that was truly Lord Sutherland’s reasoning. He did not seem like a man who would be troubled by the plight of one inconsequential woman. Nor did he seem particularly fond of his neighbor.

“I came because —” He faltered. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

Right for whom?

For him.

She pushed aside a twinge of guilt for involving him. Perhaps Lord Sutherland
was
concerned about his own reputation. Perhaps there was a young lady in his life. Maybe he was courting someone or was even betrothed. Maybe he’d been about to make a brilliant match with a woman whose dowry would enable him to keep his estate.

In which case, Grace should have either pitied him or felt regret for his unwitting part in her scheme. Instead she could only think that she’d done the woman a favor.

“I’m afraid I cannot leave,” she said, though she couldn’t deny she felt concern for Mr. Preston. He seemed to be a decent sort of man, and she didn’t wish her own troubles to tarnish him in any way. She’d have to take Lord Sutherland’s advice by avoiding her host.