Three Weeks to Wed (6 page)

By the end of tea, caught between her aunt's oppressive solicitude for her situation and her sister's spirited defense, Grace had the beginnings of a headache and wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Grace, my dear child, I'm very proud of you. But no one, I'm sure, would blame you if you sent the older children off to school. Many parents do, you know. Then you would only have the youngest, what is her name? Oh, it doesn't matter . . .”

“Her name is Mary,” Charlotte said with aching sweetness.

Their aunt blinked. “Yes, my dear, I am sure it is. As I was saying, if you would send them off and allow your steward to handle the estate . . .”

“But Aunt Almeria”—Charlotte intervened once more— “you must know that our papa always said one must care for one's own land. It wouldn't be right of Grace to ignore his advice.”

“My dear Charlotte.” Her aunt blinked several times. “How you do take one up. I was merely suggesting that if Grace rid herself of so many burdens, she might have time to find a husband.”

This time when Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, Grace quelled her with a stern glance and turned to her aunt with a smile. “You mistake the matter. I am not at all burdened. After fighting for so long to gain guardianship, I cannot imagine you think I would give it up. I would no sooner send my brothers and sisters to boarding schools than I would have to various family members. Until such a time each one is ready to leave the nest, we shall all remain together.” Grace went to her aunt and hugged her, softening her tone. “Please understand, that is really all I desire. Now if you'll excuse us, Lady Evesham would like me to bring Charlotte round to meet her.”

Lady Herndon returned her embrace. “Yes, of course. Very good of her to offer to take you to Madame Lisette.”

Grace bussed her aunt's cheek and signaled to Charlotte to do the same. “We shall see you before dinner.”

When they reached the door to Grace's chambers, she whisked her sister inside and passed a hand over her eyes. “Charlotte, my love, I appreciate you trying to defend me. Still please, for the sake of my nerves, do not. If I have to go through that again, I shall have strong hysterics.”

“But you don't have hysterics,” Charlotte pointed out.

“Charlotte,” Grace said warningly.

Her sister hung her head. “Yes, Grace. I won't do it again. It's just that . . .”

“Thank you. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Now change into a walking gown and pelisse and meet me back here. I'm almost afraid to step outside. I have the greatest fear we'll both look like country dowdies.”

Not more than a quarter of an hour later, Grace and Charlotte were shown into a room with a view of the gardens in the back of the Dunwood House. Phoebe, Countess of Evesham, rose to greet them. “Grace, how glad I am to see you again. It has been an age.” Phoebe clasped Grace closely and kissed her before greeting her sister. “This must be Charlotte. How beautiful you are. You look very like your sister did when she made her come out. Come and sit, then you may tell me how you've been.”

Grace studied her friend for a moment. Phoebe had changed little over the years. She was still a small lady with bright red-gold hair and sky-blue eyes. “Phoebe, you look wonderful. I see married life suits you.”

Phoebe grinned. “Thank you, I am very happy.”

“The baby is due in the summer?”

Her friend touched her stomach. “Yes, in July. We'll not entertain in a grand way this Season, and I've promised Marcus to restrict my gadding about. But we will still attend the political parties, and I shall hold a few drawing rooms. You, though, will be extremely busy.”

Busy didn't begin to describe it. With the children and Charlotte's activities, it wouldn't be a surprise if Grace collapsed at the end of the Season. “Yes, my brothers and sisters, except Charlie, who is at school, will be here. My aunt Herndon is sponsoring Charlotte. I want to thank you for arranging the introduction to Madame Lisette. We have an appointment to-morrow morning.”

A servant silently entered and Phoebe motioned for the tea to be set before her. “Wonderful. All the ladies in my family give her their custom. I know your mother admired Madame Fanchette.”

“Yes, though she retired last year. Nevertheless, I'm happy to make the change. You and your sisters are always so well dressed.”

Phoebe pointed to the teapot and Grace nodded. “Allow yourselves to be guided by Madame, and I promise you'll be delighted with the results. Shall you set up your stable?”

Charlotte's eyes lit up. “Yes. My favorite hack is being brought down, and Grace taught me to drive.” She clasped her hands together. “I am to have my own phaeton and pair.”

Phoebe handed Grace a cup. “Famous. Who will help you buy the horses?”

Grace drew her brows together slightly. “I think my uncle Herndon might help, although, I have not had an opportunity to ask him.”

“If you will trust me, I can take care of it for you.” Phoebe glanced at Charlotte, including her in the conversation. “I happen to know of a well-matched pair of grays that are going up for sale. Marcus and I shall escort you to the carriage maker.”

The pressure on Grace's shoulders and the ache in her head eased. “Yes, thank you. That will suit us perfectly. Do you not agree, Charlotte?”

“Yes. I'd love to have a pair of matched horses, and grays are so elegant.”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes a little then said to Charlotte, “Would you like to look at the latest
La Belle Assemblée
? It is in the parlor next to this one down the corridor.”

Charlotte cast a sidelong look at Grace.

“Yes, my dear. Go if you'd like.”

“Well, if you wouldn't mind,” her sister said shyly. “I would like to see it. Ours is a few months old.”

Phoebe pointed to the corner. “Tug on the bell-pull and the footman will show you to the room.”

Once Charlotte was gone, Phoebe turned to Grace, concern lurking in her eyes and took her hand. “Now, tell me what is wrong.”

Tears started in Grace's eyes, and her voice trembled. “I am not sure I should tell anyone. I—I don't know what you will think of me. In fact, I wouldn't blame you if you cut my acquaintance. Oh, Phoebe, I've done something so stupid and incredibly wrongheaded.”

Phoebe tightened her grip on Grace's hands, holding them firmly. “My dear, dear friend, we've known each other since we were children. Even if it turns out that I do not agree with what you've done, I'd not turn from you.”

Grace regarded her friend. The burden of her secret was weighing on her much more than she ever thought it would, and she really didn't have anyone else she would even consider telling. “I am in love.”

Phoebe's laugh was a musical tinkle. “Grace, falling in love isn't the end of the world. It complicates things for you, to be sure. Yet there must be something that could be worked out.”

Removing her hands from Phoebe's, Grace hid her face in them for a moment, before finally meeting Phoebe's steady gaze. “You don't understand. He doesn't know who I am.”

Phoebe tilted her head, puzzled. “I think you'd best start at the beginning.”

Grace nodded. If nothing else, maybe she would feel better if she could talk about it. She told her friend about the night at the inn, and when she burst into tears, Phoebe held Grace until she was calm enough to continue. “I thought, if I could have just the one night, I'd know what it was all about, and never being able to marry wouldn't bother me so much.”

“Grace, are you—?”

That was the only blessing. She wasn't breeding. “No.”

Phoebe let out a sigh of relief. “Well that is something at least.” She rubbed her forehead. “All of this makes much more sense now. My dear, there is no easy way to tell you what I'm about to say . . . Worthington is searching for you.”

Grace sat up with a start. Why would he do that and what if it got out? “
Oh no
. He can't be. This is terrible. Phoebe, how do you know?”

She handed Grace another cup of tea. “He came to see Marcus when I was on morning visits and described you. Marcus, of course, has never seen you, so he was unable to help him. Later he gave me Worthington's description. I knew who it was immediately. Worthington is a very good artist and has an eye for detail. I just couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why he wanted to find you.”

Grace's chest tightened, and she had trouble breathing. The thought that he wanted her as his mistress was too horrible to consider. “Why—why is he searching for me?”

Phoebe raised her brows sympathetically. “He wants to marry you.”

All the breath in Grace's body left in one fell swoop.
Marry me
? Oh no. This couldn't be happening. “I—I shall have to find a way to avoid meeting him.” Rubbing her temples, she tried to think. Unfortunately her brain seemed unwilling to cooperate. “I don't plan to go about much. At least not to entertainments where gentlemen are likely to be.”

Phoebe regarded her dubiously.

Grace really was going to have strong hysterics. “What?”

Phoebe took Grace's hands again. “It's been my experience that gentlemen in love turn up just where one does not expect them to be.”

She was right, of course. Men were so unpredictable. They never behaved the way one wished. Why couldn't he have just forgotten about her? “Phoebe, this is horrible. What shall I do?”

Despite her large middle, Phoebe rose gracefully and seemed to float over to a small side table with a decanter and glasses. She poured two and handed one to Grace. “Sherry, not as strong as brandy, but effective nonetheless.” Phoebe sank back down next to Grace. “You had better be prepared to explain to him that you do not intend to give up guardianship of the children. The law is very unfair to women in many respects and this is probably the worst example.” Phoebe's brows drew together in thought. “I don't suppose you might consider that, as your husband, Worthington could be their guardian?”

Grace drank half the glass in one swallow. It didn't help. “I cannot conceive of any man willingly taking on seven children.” She took a small sip. “Even if he thought he wanted to, what if something happened to change his mind? I would be helpless to do anything about it. If he were to send the boys off to school before they are ready or send the girls to school at all. I have no great opinion of girls' schools and want them to remain at home.” Grace stopped, her voice suspended by tears. She put the glass on a side table and dropped her head in her hands.

Phoebe rose, refreshed Grace's glass, then handed it to her. “I understand. In your position, I'd likely feel the same.”

Grace sipped her sherry. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Phoebe's lips curved up. “Being your friend? Let me remind you, my friend, you stood by me when I refused to marry.”

Yet that wasn't nearly as bad as what Grace had done. “No, for not thinking me an abandoned woman.”

“Nonsense.” Phoebe gave Grace a rueful look. “You've been half in love with Worthington for years. I remember the offers you turned down hoping he'd ask.”

She sighed miserably. “He never even noticed me.”

“No, probably not. Young men are like that. But, my dear, how on earth did you think you could make love with him and not fall in love?”

Well, that was a reasonable question. Still, she'd only seen him that one Season. Grace dabbed her eyes. “I might not have done it, if he hadn't been so wonderful.”

Phoebe grinned. “Apparently he was quite taken with you as well.”

Grace took a large sip of sherry. It really was very good, and she was feeling a bit better. Why had she been so stupid? She sat up straighter. “That, unfortunately, doesn't do either of us any good at all. I cannot marry. Not him, nor anyone else.”

“It's a shame he didn't figure out he was in love with you before your parents died. Though really, men can be such big noddies.”

She finished the glass, stood, and started to pace. “I must avoid him. There is absolutely no conceivable way I could ever tell him I only wanted one night.”

“No, I can't see him taking that well at all.” Phoebe shoved a small cushion behind her back. “Though Grace, I shall own myself surprised if you
can
avoid meeting him. You'd be better occupied deciding what you will say when you do see him.”

Grace had reached the end of the room and turned. He'd never understand. Men could do what she'd done, but ladies, at least unmarried ladies, could not. “Yes, you're right, of course.”

Charlotte knocked on the door and came in carrying a largish magazine.

Grace quickly brought herself under control and smiled. “Well, my love, did you find anything?”

“I found several wonderful gowns,” her sister said, with a sly grin. “If only you will allow me to have diamonds sewn onto the bodices and wear silk.”

Grace held out her hand for
La Belle Assemblée
to look at the pictures Charlotte was mooning over. The ball gown depicted was in a pale lavender with a darker color underskirt. The narrative recommended small diamonds or some other gemstone. Grace assumed a prim expression. “If you wish to dress in diamonds, you will have to set your cap at a very wealthy gentleman who will agree to give you a large allowance.”

“Oh pooh. I don't care that”—Charlotte snapped her fingers—“for such fripperies. Although I did think it was extremely droll.”

Grace laughed. No, she'd never give up her brothers and sisters. “Well, we had better be on our way. Aunt Almeria plans to serve an early dinner until we get used to Town hours.” She held out her hands to Phoebe. “Thank you for our conversation. Will you join us to-morrow?”

Phoebe grinned and glanced down at her stomach. “Yes, I think I shall. I'll very soon need new gowns, again.”

As Grace and her sister strolled arm-in-arm across the square to their aunt's house, she thought of and dismissed ways to tell Worthington she could not wed. Somehow she'd find a means to convince him, if she couldn't avoid him altogether, that was. Which was a much better plan.

* * *

Matt sat in the large leather chair behind his desk in his study, staring out the window overlooking the still-empty garden. In another month it would be green again, and his sisters would be out there playing rather than running up and down the corridor over his head. He was glad there were only four of them. He hoped his lady liked children.

A light knock sounded on the door. It opened to reveal Patience carrying a small basket. “What is that?”

She set it on his desk. “Invitations. All the ones you told me to accept for you. Really, Worthington, it is time for you to hire a secretary.”

He'd asked her to accept any invitation at which she thought his lady would appear. Swallowing, he asked, “How many?”

She huffed in frustration. “If you attend four events an evening, every evening except Sunday, you will not have met all your obligations.”

He glanced at her expectantly. “I don't suppose you would be willing to . . . ?”

“No.” Her lips firmed and her chin jutted out a bit. “
I
am not looking to be carried off to Bedlam. Louisa and I will attend only the entertainments most suited to finding her a husband.”

Diverted, Matt frowned. That was not what he and Patience had discussed. Louisa was to be given time to mature before she wed. “Patience, do you really want her to marry this year?”

She sat on the chair in front of his desk and sighed. “If she finds someone she loves and who returns her love, then I shall not have any objections. Of course, I would like her to wait another year or so, but, unlike me at her age, she has her own opinions.” Patience's eyes sparkled softly. “I know you won't make her wed.”

He shook his head, remembering all too well the story she had told him about being pushed into marriage before she was truly ready. “No. I shall not.”

The running and thumping sounded again. “I do wish they would not choose the corridor over my head to play.”

She glanced up at the ceiling. “Oh, dear. They are not directly over your head, but in the school-room.”

Two floors up? Matt scrubbed his face with his hand. How did they manage to make so much noise from that distance? “Tell them to get their pelisses, hats, and gloves. I'll take them to the park. I want two foot . . . no make that three footmen, and Duke may come as well.”

The massive light brown lump that had been sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace raised his head.

Matt grinned. “Would you like that, boy?”

The Great Dane's tail thumped lazily on the floor.

“I shall tell them.” Patience rose. “Will you take the town coach?”

God forbid. “No, they'll walk. I want them tired out by the time we return.”

Her eyes lit in amusement. “Indeed.”

Once she'd gone, Matt turned to regard his garden again before ringing for his coat, hat, gloves, and Duke's lead.

By the time he arrived in the hall his sisters were waiting impatiently for him. He fixed them with a gimlet eye. “On our way to the Park, you will each remain next to a footman. Louisa, you shall walk next to me.”

Smiling, they all nodded. Deceptive little things, his sisters. They'd be trying to break free after a block. But he was ready for them.

Shortly after they left Berkeley Square, Theodora and Madeline decided to have a race. Matt congratulated himself on his forethought. The two footmen assigned to the girls glanced at him for direction. “Stop them. I do not intend to allow my sisters to be the talk of London. They may run when they reach the play area and not before.”

By the time he and Louisa caught up to the miscreants, their hands were held firmly by the footmen. When they arrived at the edge of the Park, Matt nodded. “Let them go and stay with them.”

The girls went running off, laughing. “Don't tell me it was just the two of them making such a racket?”

Augusta blushed. “No, I was running with them.”

“You may do so now as well. Much better to run here than
over my head
.”

“Oh Matt.” Her face scrunched up in distress. “I'm sorry. Did we disturb you very much?”

“No, not very much.” He smiled at her and chucked her chin.
Only enough that I needed to bring you here.
“Go play.”

Augusta grinned. “May Duke come with me?”

Matt released the Great Dane. “If he'll go.”

“Come, Duke, come.” Augusta clapped her hands and took off running with Duke loping after her.

Louisa squeezed his arm. “This was a very good idea, Matt.”

He glanced down at his sister. She was a beautiful girl. This Season was going to be hell. He finally understood what his friend Harry Marsh went through when Anna came out. “Why thank you. I do have them at times.”

She smiled up at him, clearly delighted. “Will we see you more now that we are all in Town?”

He started them ambling toward the other girls. “Yes, I shall be living at Worthington House this Season, and I'll attend many of the same entertainments as you.” He tapped her nose as he'd done since she was a baby. “If for no other reason than to keep all the gentlemen in line.”

Louisa took a breath, and she suddenly looked very young. “Do you think I shall be a success?”

Matt took out his quizzing glass and pretended to study her. She was taller than average with sable-brown curls and blue eyes. Her nose was straight and her complexion clear. Her generous mouth curved up excitedly. “I predict you will be a Diamond of the First Water.”