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Authors: Ella Quinn

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BOOK: Three Weeks to Wed
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“Fate has a strange way of arranging things.” Matt squeezed Charlie's shoulder.
“I suppose it does.” He paused for a moment. “When I attain my majority, I'll take them off your hands.”
This was not a discussion Matt intended to have now. “Let's see how everything goes.” Glancing around and seeing Grace occupied with the older girls, Matt lowered his voice. “You wouldn't like to tell me, man to man, earl to earl, how to remain on Grace's good side?”
Charlie grinned. “Don't surprise her. She's held our hands through stitches and broken bones, and other things that would give another woman the vapors, but give her a surprise birthday party, and she faints dead away. Don't understand it myself. No reason I should. It's just the way she is.”
“Like a game of billiards, Stanwood?”
“Wouldn't I just. I've had no one to play with since m'father died.”
Matt clapped his hand on Charlie's shoulder. “Then come with me, young'un, and we'll see how much you know.”
Walter and Philip joined them. Charlie knew the game and only needed practice and a few pointers. He helped Matt teach the younger two. As much as Matt loved his sisters, he enjoyed having younger brothers.
He gave silent thanks for Grace coming into his life.
* * *
Lord Bentley and Lord Harrington were ushered into the drawing room. Grace smiled as they made their bows and Louisa and Charlotte curtseyed.
“I know it's not usual to visit on a holy day,” Bentley said, tugging on his cravat “though there are so few people in Town . . .”
Harrington nodded. “We—we thought we'd call.”
Resisting the urge to laugh, Grace motioned for them to a sofa. “We are very glad you did. Please have a seat, and I shall ring for tea.”
“No need to do so on our account,” Harrington replied.
“Indeed,” Bentley said. “We wouldn't want to put you to any trouble.”
This must be the first time that either gentleman had done the pretty. “Thank you for your concern.” She rang the bell-pull. “But we usually drink tea at this time of day.”
Bentley swallowed. “Of course.”
Even though Grace bid them to sit, they naturally remained standing until she sank onto the sofa.
By the time Matt joined them Charlotte was pouring the tea.
He took the place next to Grace, drawing her attention. “I suppose they will overcome their nervousness at some point.”
Taking in the young men as they fiddled with their fobs, she hoped, for their sake, it was soon. “You are not to make a game of them and tell Charlie the same thing. They are being very courageous in trying to be the girls' first suitors.”
He drew his brows together. “Do you suppose they stayed in Town because of Charlotte and Louisa?”
Grace looked at him over the rim of her cup. “A mere glance at the
Morning Post
would have revealed to you that their parents are at their country estates hosting large house parties.”
“Which means they did.”
“I think that is a safe assumption.”
A loud
woof
and thumping came from overhead. Matt glanced up. “If you've got it under control here, I'll take the rest of the children and dogs to the Park.”
More thumping and another deeper bark echoed down the stairs. “Good idea.”
He left and a few moments later the sounds of the younger children, footmen, and dogs readying themselves could be heard. Matt strode back into the drawing room and brought her fingers to his lips lightly grazing her knuckles, before turning to leave.
“If you don't mind saying,” Bentley asked, “what kind of dog is that?”
“Dogs. Two Great Danes. One is ours and the other is Grace's family's.” Louisa smiled. “I suppose I should say our dogs as we are one family now.”
“You don't say?” Harrington glanced up. “I'd like to see them,” he said, adding nervously, “if you don't mind, that is.”
Charlotte rose, a small smile tilting her lips. “No, we don't mind at all. Worthington will be down with them and the children in a few minutes.”
“We usually all go to the Park together,” Louisa added.
In very short order, Daisy barreled into the room, and Matt's deep voiced barked a command. “Daisy, halt.”
Well, if she didn't actually stop, she did slow down. Grace smiled with relief. “Worthington, she is doing much better.”
Her husband muttered something under his breath that Grace assumed was a curse and strode into the room with Duke. Bentley and Harrington went to meet the dogs.
Grace thought it was to their credit that neither of the young men was worried about the dogs leaning against them.
Then Bentley, who was petting Daisy, said, “My grandfather had Danes. Wonderful dogs. She's pretty young, isn't she?”
Charlotte came over. “Yes, she's just over a year. Duke is four.”
Harrington grinned. “You've got a couple of more years of trouble with her then.” Glancing at Bentley, he asked, “Would you mind if we accompanied you to the Park?”
Louisa and Charlotte exchanged excited glances, and Charlotte said, “We'll just need a moment. Matt, will you wait for us?”
“Yes, of course. Just hurry.”
Before Grace followed the girls out of the room, she looked at Matt. “I think I'll come as well.”
She was able to keep Louisa and Charlotte quiet until they reached Grace's old room, where one of her bonnets was. It was a good thing Bolton had decided to keep some of Grace's clothing here. “Now what is going on?”
“Grace,” Charlotte said excitedly, “they asked us to reserve a waltz for them at Lady Sale's ball.”
Louisa's eyes glowed. “I think that was very well done of them, coming here. They remained in Town just to ask us to dance.”
Grace was so happy for them. They would both be great successes this Season. “They certainly got the jump on the rest of the young gentlemen.”
As the children, Louisa, Charlotte, Charlie, and their guests, walked out of the square and down the street to the Park, Grace regarded the young men. Apparently both Harrington and Bentley intended to keep their lead on the competitors. They were attentive not only to the girls, but to their brothers and sisters as well as the dogs. Walter, though, had decided to have some fun by pulling faces and batting his eyes.
“Don't,” Matt said. “One day, you'll be in the same position.”
“And don't tease the girls either,” Grace said.
Walter grinned good-naturedly. “You two are taking all the fun out of this.” He fell quiet for a few minutes, then said, as if a thought had occurred to him, “Charlotte could be married this year.”
“Yes.” Grace studied her brother. “If she meets the right gentleman, she could be wed before summer.”
“Who's next then? Augusta?”
Matt nodded and suddenly his face had a panicked expression. “My God. Do you realize we have the twins and Madeline coming out the same year?”
Charlie gave a bark of laughter.
“You laugh now,” Matt said darkly. “You won't think it's so humorous when you're drafted to help chaperone.”
Her brother's face fell. “I don't suppose you have a tower at your estate, do you?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After they returned from the Park, Grace went to her study to sort through the mail she'd ignored during the past two days. She was in the process of answering a letter from her steward when Patience knocked on the door.
“May I come in?”
Putting down the pen, Grace sprinkled sand over the paper. “Of course. How are you settling in?”
Sinking gracefully into a chair next to the desk, Patience grinned. “Very nicely. I rather like not having many responsibilities. Do you have the account books for Worthington House?”
Searching through the ledgers on the bookcase next to her desk, Grace shook her head. “Not yet, is there something you wish to go over with me?”
“Not really.” Patience grimaced. “I thought I should tell you they are not up to date. I never could make them balance, so I just gave up.”
Was that the reason Matt had been so concerned about Grace's expenditures? “Oh dear. How long has it been since you've looked at them?”
Patience glanced at the ceiling and gave an airy wave of her hand. “I am not quite sure. Probably about six years.”
Did Matt even suspect his household accounts had been ignored for so long? Grace dreaded the answer to her next question. “Do you still have all the receipts?”
“Every last one.” Patience brightened, obviously proud of herself. “I thought I might need them at some point. For a while, I kept them all in a drawer, and when I ran out of room, I put them in boxes.”
“That is a starting place.” Despite her dread at having to trace back years of expenditures, Grace kept her tone even. “Tell me, does Louisa know how to hold house?”
“Ah, not precisely.” The other woman's brows drew together. “I have never been able to teach her, and I did not want to bother Worthington.”
Grace didn't want to think about what Matt was going to say. Yet now she could kill two birds with one stone. “If you show a couple of footmen where the receipts are and have them bring the boxes here, I'll use them to teach Louisa how to balance the accounts.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Patience rose. “I hoped you would say that. I shall attend to it immediately.”
* * *
Not many moments later, Patience, accompanied by two footmen, strolled to Worthington House. She showed them where the boxes were stacked. As they were leaving the house, a gentleman, with the reddened face of one who had spent much of his life in dissipation, approached her.
“Lady Worthington?”
Whoever he was had a great deal of gall addressing her without being introduced. Raising an imperious brow, she used her coldest tone. “I beg your pardon.”
He bowed. “I apologize. Please allow me to make myself known to you. Mr. Edgar Molton, at your service.”
With a great effort, she maintained a look of unconcern. Matt would have to be told immediately. “Indeed.”
Wondering what to do next, Patience stared at the man. Of course, Lady Herndon had warned them all that he might try to approach, but Patience really had not thought it possible. Whatever the man wanted, he wasn't going to receive any help from her. “How may I help you, Mr. Molton?”
A smile creased his face. “It's the other way around, my lady. There is a certain matter of which I have knowledge that may interest you.”
Raising her other brow, she tried to think of what to say. No matter what, she must put him off. That would be the best course of action. “I doubt that very much. Good day, Mr. Molton.”
When he stepped closer to her the footmen set down the boxes, flanking her protectively.
The man took two steps back. “Do you have any idea who I am, my lady?”
“Mr. Molton, I know precisely who you are, and I have been instructed not to have anything to do with you.” She turned to one of the footmen. “Please, let us get the boxes and go.”
“Is your husband in?”
She whirled back to him. For a moment, her mind was in a muddle, then it dawned on her that the man thought she was the current Lady Worthington. And if he had seen Grace and Worthington . . . Molton must be here to make trouble for Grace. “Lord Worthington is not home at present. I expect he will return later in the day. Now, you must excuse me.”
Patience swept past him. Should she warn Grace? No, it would only upset her. Worthington was well able to handle the scoundrel, probably without Grace knowing a thing about it. Yes, that would be best.
Patience took a breath to calm her rapidly pounding heart, and instructed the footmen to deliver the boxes to Lady Worthington. She then left a message for her stepson to attend her as soon as possible, went into the morning room and ordered tea. Fortunately, she did not have long to wait.
Worthington strode into the room with a frown. “Patience, you wanted to see me?”
She rose and held out her hands. When he took them, she said, “Oh, Worthington, the most dreadful thing—Grace's uncle, Molton, accosted me as I was leaving Worthington House.”
Worthington's visage darkened. “What did he say?”
“Quite honestly, I did not give him a chance to say much at all, but he seems to think I am your wife.”
“How in the world?” Leading her to the sofa, he continued to hold her hands, keeping her calm. “Here, sit down and tell me everything.”
Patience told him what had happened. “He clearly does not have a copy of
Debrett's
, nor does he keep up.”
“No, clearly not.” Worthington shook his head. “When was this?”
“Not long ago. Less than an hour. I told him you would be home later. Where had you gone?”
“I received a message to meet with Lord Herndon.” That was a bit of good luck. Matt had been shown the signed guardianship papers and was promised a copy as soon as one was made. As of late yesterday, he'd been awarded custody of Grace's brothers and sisters. No one would hurt either them or her.
“Worthington, are you listening to me? I said, I did not tell Grace.”
He returned his focus to Patience. “Thank you. That was well done. If he can be taken care of without her knowledge, there is no reason to worry her.”
Patience nodded happily. “Those were my thoughts.”
He glanced at her. “Where is she?”
“In her study, attending to correspondence.” Glancing up at him, she pulled a face. “I—I also had the household receipts delivered to her.”
“That was a good idea.” He smiled. “Patience, I have never blamed you for not being able to reconcile them. I only wish you would have told me sooner.”
“You knew? Oh, Worthington, I was so embarrassed that I could not manage. But at least Louisa will not be as stupid as I am. Grace has promised to teach her.”
“In that case, you no longer have to worry about them. It's all working out.” He kissed her cheek. “If anyone asks, I'll be across the square.”
About three hours later, Matt was in his office reviewing a letter from his steward when Thorton knocked. “My lord, Mr. Molton is here as you said he would be.”
Matt grinned to himself.
Let's see what the here-and-therein wants.
“Show him in.”
A few minutes later, Thorton returned with Grace's uncle.
Having the upper hand, Matt found it surprisingly easy to smile as he greeted the bounder. “Mr. Molton. Please take a seat.” He waited until the older man lowered himself into a leather chair. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“You may not be happy, my lord, when I've said what I intend to.”
Matt raised an inquiring brow. “Indeed, sir, and why is that?”
Molton frowned. “I know what you've been up to and with my niece. I'm sure you wouldn't want your wife to know about it.”
This was going to be more entertaining than Matt thought. He assumed a perplexed demeanor. “Your niece, sir? I understand you have several. To which one are you referring?”
“Grace, Lady Grace Carpenter.” Growing agitated, the man spat out her name.
Matt placed his elbows on the desk and regarded Molton with spurious interest. “Oh, Grace, it is? I see, and what do you suspect me of doing with Grace?”
By this time, Molton's face was turning an interesting shade of reddish-purple. Matt idly wondered if there was a name for the color.
“You have ruined her,” the older man proclaimed dramatically.
Matt regarded Molton over steepled fingers and widened his eyes. “Have I? I think you should make yourself plain, sir. I've no wish to go round and round with you. Exactly how have I ruined Grace?”
“Play the innocent all you want.” Molton's eyes narrowed. “You will not get away with this perfidy.”
“Until I know what perfidy you are speaking of, I don't know how I could get away with it, as you so elegantly phrased it.” Matt wondered how much longer this was going to continue. Then again, it was rather like playing a fish on the line.
Spittle formed at the corners of the man's mouth. “I had a man watching this house, and he saw Grace enter yesterday afternoon and not come out until this morning.”
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Was it control of the children's funds or blackmail the man intended? Matt leaned back in his chair and grinned.
Molton's jaw dropped. “You don't deny it?”
Matt opened his eyes even wider. “But my good man, why should I? She did indeed spend the night with me. Although why it is any concern of yours, you have yet to explain.” He lifted his hand and made a
come
motion. “You do intend to tell me, do you not? Or are you wasting my time?”
Half rising from the chair, he leaned forward. “I know she's attached to those brats of hers.”
Suddenly, the fun of egging the man on was gone, and it was all Matt could do to stop himself from leaping over the desk and grabbing the cur by his neck. “I take it you mean her brothers and sisters?”
Settling back down in the chair, Molton replied, “I do. Seems to me, under the circumstances, you understand, that it wouldn't be hard to have them taken away from her.”
Acting his part, Matt frowned slightly. “You don't strike me as the sort of man who is overly concerned with the children or your niece's morals.”
“Couldn't care less about a bunch of kids. As for my niece, she can spread her legs for anyone she wants.” The man's mouth twisted into a humorless grin. “It's not them I'm after.”
“Your sense of familial affection astounds me,” He drawled. Herndon was right. Grace's uncle was a bounder and a loose fish. “Why don't you open your budget and tell me what it is you do want.”
“Money. I'll mind my own business for a payment on my bank account, say quarterly, until my niece is either married or until Stanwood comes of age. Then I want that ten thousand pounds she's getting.”
Matt curled his lips as if amused. “Mr. Molton, the descriptions of you did not do you justice. It will, however, be a cold day in hell before I give you so much as a farthing.”
Molton stood, scowling. “You'll pay, my lord, or she will. I'll spread it all over Town that she's your mistress. One way or the other, I'll get what I want.”
There was a shuffling in the hall and Grace's clear voice. “Don't worry, Thorton, I won't bother him for long.”
Matt moved quickly toward the door and placed his hand protectively on her waist when she entered.
She stopped in surprise. “Forgive me. I was not aware you have a visitor. I shall come back later, if you'd like.”
He put his arm around her and drew her closer. “It's no matter, my love. He was just leaving.”
Grace's forehead puckered as she looked at Molton. “Do I know you?”
“You've grown up to be a fine-looking woman,” her uncle said.
Grace glanced at Matt. “Who is he?”
Smiling wickedly, he replied, “Grace, allow me to introduce your uncle, Mr. Edgar Molton. Molton, my wife, the Countess of Worthington.”
He paled and grabbed onto the chair he stood next to. “Wife?” he uttered faintly.
Matt hardened his gaze. “Wife.”
“But—but there was no announcement.”
Keeping his arm around Grace, he poured glasses of wine for himself and Grace. Molton could go thirsty. “It's been sent, but not yet printed. The holiday, you understand.”
Grace took her glass and glanced up. “Worthington, I don't understand what is going on.”
“Your uncle, my love, decided to blackmail us. He had a man watching the house yesterday. The person saw you enter and not leave until this morning.”
“Blackmail? Not the children?” She gave a sigh of relief. “That is not at all what I thought he would do.”
Grinning, he hugged her closer. He had been prepared for her to swoon. But blackmail was not her fear. It was having the children taken away. “No. It seems his needs are much simpler.” He turned to her uncle. “Not that you deserve an explanation, but I shall give you one. We are renovating the house for the children. At present, my family, including my stepmother, the lady you approached earlier, and our brothers and sisters are living at Stanwood House. Grace and I sleep here.”
Molton seemed to shrink into the chair. “All my plans, all my money, gone. I should have known it was too good to be true.”
Matt tugged the bell-pull. “Mr. Molton, if you have no further business, I suggest you depart.”
Molton seemed to have aged ten years. He stood. “Yes, yes.”
“I understand one may live much more inexpensively overseas. I propose you think about it. If I ever see or hear of you near either of our houses or the children again, I shall have no difficulty in making your life decidedly difficult.”
BOOK: Three Weeks to Wed
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