Grace (12 page)

“Almack’s,” he said to the footman who held open his door, “and quickly.” He pulled his watch from his pocket
and looked at the time. Nearly eleven o’clock. If he did not arrive before then, the patronesses would close and lock the door. Nobody, not even the influential Earl of Hunt-wick, could make it past Mr. Willis after that hour.

Grace looked around the crowded room with a gay smile, surprised at how glad she was she had come to London, regardless of her reasons for doing so. Thus far the balls and parties she had attended had been very grand, and the people she had met, with only a few exceptions, friendly and accepting. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that their unquestioned acceptance of her had been gained only by virtue of the position her aunt held in society. It would have surprised her to know that she and Faith would not have received a single invitation had Lady Egerton not sponsored them into the ranks of the ton. But sponsored they had been, and, with the dowager countess accompanying them, Grace had made a lasting and favorable impression on at least the younger set of polite society at the first ball they attended.

They had arrived at the festive affair, highly impressed and slightly awed by the decadent grandeur of the house and by the crowd of beautifully dressed people flitting around them. Faith had immediately received an invitation to dance; her quiet blond beauty was a magnet for many young men who implored their hostess to ask Aunt Cleo for an introduction.

While Grace enjoyed the sight of her sister gliding around the room on the arm of a handsome young dandy, one of the many men who had begged an introduction to Faith but not managed to secure a space on her dance card was struck with a brilliant notion: if he became friendly with Grace, it stood to reason that he would have a far greater chance of Faith looking upon him with favor. Immediately the young strategist turned to Grace. Although
Lady Egerton had presented him to both Grace and Faith at the same time, he had barely given Grace a second look, his admiration of Faith glaringly evident.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Miss Ackerly?” he asked politely, still trying to keep track of Faith’s movement around the room.

Grace turned and nodded, her face aglow with wonder. “This is my first London ball, you know,” she admitted, smiling up at him when he flicked a distracted glance in her direction. She paused for a moment, then spoke again when he did not respond. “My sister and I have come for the Season,” she confided unnecessarily, thinking that he, too, was likely new to town.

Lord Newcombe immediately seized upon the topic she offered, giving her his full attention for the first time. “Miss Faith, you mean?” When she nodded, he continued:“She is your younger sister, is she not?” His eyes followed Faith around the room with an admiring, hungry gaze.

“Yes, she is,” Grace replied to the back of his head. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the covetous look on the young man’s face. She did not mind his interest in her sister, for she was very happy about Faith’s instant popularity, but she most certainly
did
mind if he intended to use her as a stepping-stone to get to Faith. “She has a spotted, fur-covered tongue, you know,” she added in an offhand tone, just to see what he would say.

“She’s very beautiful,” Lord Newcombe said in a reverent voice.

Grace raised her brows.

Suddenly he appeared to remember himself. “Such a trait seems to run in your family,” he added hastily, in a belated effort at gallantry.

“Spotted, fur-covered tongues?” Grace’s expression remained bland.

Newcombe looked confused. “No, I meant her beauty,” he said.

Grace did not respond. A wicked thought struck her. She smiled up at him in a way that told him she expected to hear more.

Lord Newcombe looked down at her uncertainly. Used to the silly, flirtatious repartee with which most of the London debutantes of his acquaintance would have reciprocated, he had no idea of the depths into which he had just inadvertently waded. This young woman with the odd orange hair did not appear to know the unwritten rules of polite conversation. After a moment her direct stare as well as the continued lack of conversation began to unnerve him. “Is your mother as lovely as . . . er . . . you and your sister?”

Grace stifled a laugh. “Oh, no, my lord, I can’t say that she is.”

Newcombe was taken aback.
What a strange answer,
he thought. Faith danced by at that moment, momentarily distracting him. “Your sister must resemble your father,” he said, then realized in horror that he had just implied that Grace herself must take after her mother, whom she had only just described as not attractive. He looked down to see if she had noticed his gaffe.

Grace inclined her head and raised an eyebrow, staring steadily back up at the fidgeting young man.

“Er . . . would you care to dance, Miss Ackerly?” he asked, feeling a sudden pressing need to make amends for his clumsy conversation. He would certainly never find favor with Faith if he angered her sister.

Dance? Did he think her daft? Grace glanced at Aunt Cleo, who nodded at her in a strange way, almost as if trying to convey some sort of message. Grace furrowed her brow until a brilliant notion came to mind. This self-important young pup needed a lesson in manners. She
smiled conspiratorially at her aunt, then turned her most beaming expression on the young nobleman.

“Why,
thank
you, Lord Newcombe,” she said, batting her eyes in an exaggerated imitation of some of the simpering debutantes she had seen in action this evening. The oblivious man looked dazed by her sudden eagerness. She gave him an even more dazzling smile and placed her hand on his arm. “I thought you’d
never
ask.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and giggled behind her glove for good measure.

He reluctantly led her out onto the dance floor. The ever-curious eyes of the ton followed along, noting with interest how the newly arrived Ackerly sisters both danced with extremely eligible bachelors not long after their arrival.

Once they were on the dance floor, however, it became immediately apparent to Grace that, while Lord Newcombe danced with
her,
he still had his full attention on Faith, so much so that he stepped on Grace’s toes twice, and once almost tripped her. When that happened, she heard a titter of laughter ripple through the crowd. Grace, who did
not
like laughter at her expense, realized her partner’s absurd obsession with Faith had become embarrassingly transparent.

What she decided to do next was both shocking and unprecedented, and became
the
topic of conversation for an entire week. Seeing her chance when Faith and her partner danced close by, Grace abruptly stopped dancing in the middle of the floor, forcing Lord Newcombe to stop along with her. Thinking that she wished to leave the dance floor, Newcombe gratefully turned to escort her back to her aunt, but instead, Grace did the most extraordinary thing. She stepped out of Lord Newcombe’s arms and put a restraining hand on her surprised sister’s shoulder. Faith, afraid that something terrible had occurred, immediately stopped dancing and looked at her sister in alarm. Grace looked back at her with a determined, militant look in her
eyes. “Oh, no,” Faith moaned under her breath, even as Grace mouthed the words,
I’m sorry,
at her.

The music continued unabated, but those couples dancing nearest the little group that had inexplicably stopped in the center of the room sensed that something interesting was about to occur. They began to leave the floor in an obvious effort to better see and hear the action taking place. What they observed left them openmouthed with shocked amazement.

Grace reached back and drew the rigid and angry-looking Lord Newcombe up beside her. “My lord, please, once again meet my sister, Miss Faith Ackerly,” she said with an overly sweet smile. “Faith, may I present Lord Newcombe? He appears quite anxious to make your acquaintance.” With that, Grace proudly raised her chin and walked serenely away, leaving her sister smiling politely, if a bit uncertainly, at both men.

A frosty smile pinned to her face to cover her searing anger, Grace joined Aunt Cleo, who smiled widely, highly entertained by the entire debacle. “Good for you, Grace! I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself so much at one of these crushes in years.” She nodded approvingly as she watched Faith very deliberately turn her back on Newcombe and ask her partner to escort her to the punch bowl for some refreshment. “Newcombe had it coming, too. He’s become rather full of himself since his father fell ill. I think he’ll come down a notch or two when the old geezer finally gives it up and Newcombe and the rest of the ton find out how much he
didn’t
inherit.” She thumped her cane and let out a bark of laughter. Grace clamped her mouth shut and lifted her chin, staring down some of the bolder spectators around the room with a glacial glare.

As the whispers began to die and the ball resumed, Faith immediately received another invitation to dance, but Grace found herself scrupulously and conspicuously avoided.
After thirty miserable minutes, she decided that London had proven just as disappointing as she had expected. She turned to ask her aunt if she could leave when she noticed a beautiful brunette girl dressed in a sumptuous royal blue silk gown walking her way. An entourage of still more beautifully dressed young ladies followed in her wake. She introduced herself as Amanda Lloyd, the Countess of Seth, and drew the slightly distrustful Grace into her circle of friends.

“That was really most awful of you, Miss Ackerly,” Amanda said after introducing all her companions. She laughed, a pretty little unaffected laugh that chimed like bells. “Although, I admit I was watching you both before and during your dance, and Newcombe certainly had it coming. I only wish I could have heard what you were saying. He turned quite the loveliest shade of purple I’ve ever seen!” She laughed again, and so did some of the rest of the group.

Grace looked at the friendly brunette with a curious smile, her head tipped inquisitively to the side. “How ever do you do that?” she asked in an admiring tone.

Amanda stopped laughing and looked confused. “Do what?” she asked.

“Laugh like that. It sounds so pretty and feminine. Why, when I laugh, streams of tears invariably come from my eyes, and I make such awful snorting noises people are apt to come running with a gun to put the poor sick horse out of its misery.”

The entire group laughed this time, and Grace looked slowly about at the young people around her, beginning to realize they did not condemn her for her actions on the dance floor; rather, they applauded her.

“Wasn’t your sister mortified?” one of girls asked, her fascination evident.

“No, of course not,” Grace replied with an impish smile, already becoming more comfortable with her newfound friends. “She’s become well used to the rather odd things I sometimes say and do.”

“She gave Newcombe the cut direct after you left the floor,” the blond continued in disbelief. “Why, I’ve heard that when his papa dies, he’ll have more money—”

“And fewer brains than a gifted goose,” the countess cut in with a quelling look. She need not have tried to champion her new friend, though, for Grace simply shrugged with unconcern. “Faith knew I disliked him, and that was enough for her to distrust him as well.”

The ladies moved on to other topics, automatically including Grace in their conversation. She had no idea that Amanda and her friends all hailed from the finest aristocratic families and moved only in the highest, most influential circles of society, but once everyone else in the room noted that they treated Grace’s encounter with humor, the rest of the ton followed their lead. When the morning newspapers reported on the events of the previous evening, instead of describing Grace as a dismal social failure, the gossip columns would proclaim her an Original, her place in society secure. She never knew just how close she had come to complete social death. Now, thanks to Amanda Seth, people would regard her outlandish remarks and actions as humorous, if unusual. Less popular girls, striving to stand out in the unending throng of young ladies making their debut each Season, might repeat her words with admiration, hoping to achieve a similar effect.

So it was with the comfortable feeling of acceptance and an ever-growing circle of male admirers that Grace again watched her sister dance, this time at Almack’s. As she did not seek marriage, Grace found it easy to not be jealous of her beautiful sister’s popularity with the gentlemen. She also managed to hide her complete boredom in the exalted halls of Almack’s, rooms she immediately judged as no more than a closed market offering young girls in marriage
to the highest bidder. The very thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Anxious to move to a more festive atmosphere, she stopped watching Faith and turned to her aunt to suggest that they thank the patronesses and leave for Lord and Lady Seth’s ball. Before she could speak, however, a strange hush fell over the room, followed by a wave of frantic whispering. All heads began to swivel toward the entranceway. The whispering grew steadily louder as excited mamas began to push their suddenly nervous daughters in the direction of the doors.

Curious, Grace tried to look over the heads of those now crowding the doorway. When she could not see anything, she glanced over at her aunt. “What’s all the fuss about?”

Aunt Cleo, a full six inches taller, obligingly raised her mother-of-pearl lorgnette and trained it across the room to determine what had caused the commotion.“By the looks of all the flustered girls and the hopeful mamas, I’d say our most eligible has probably made an entrance—although why a confirmed bachelor like him would dare enter the marriage mart is beyond . . .” She trailed off thoughtfully, then continued:“Unless someone drew him here.” With that ambiguous statement, she began scanning the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, who would not ordinarily attend.

Grace watched her and shook her head. Aunt Cleo spoke in riddles. “Who are you talking about, Aunt?” Grace asked in exasperation, noting that, although the music still played, even the dancers had stopped to see what caused all the excitement.