Three Weeks to Wed (5 page)

Matt twirled his glass. If he had to go out of London to find her, then he would need to ask some of his friends to keep watch on his sister, Louisa. Harry Marsh would be in Town for the legislative session, both he and Emma would help and Rutherford. It wouldn't do for any fortune hunters to think Matt didn't take his role as guardian seriously.

He turned his thoughts back to his lady and scowled. Whoever was protecting her wasn't doing a very good job at it. She wasn't married: She wore no ring on her left hand, nor was there any indication she'd ever had one. And, until she'd come to him, she was a virgin. What could make a gently bred lady go to a stranger? But he wasn't a stranger to her. She'd addressed him as my lord. Where did he know her from? Did she think he was the type of man who would take her innocence and leave her? This brought him back to the question of why she'd given herself to him at all. He threw his head back against the chair. Why the devil had she disappeared?

Damn it all
. There were too many unknowns and not enough answers.

Two weeks later, Grace hugged and kissed each of the younger children. “Behave, and I shall see you in a week. I had better not hear that you tried to run wild.”

“Yes, Grace,” they chorused angelically.

She gave them a stern look.

Already in the coach, Charlotte called out, “Come on, Grace. Let's go!”

“Yes, my dear.” Jane hugged Grace. “We'll all be fine. Enjoy your shopping.”

The children were herded back into the house. This was the first time she'd left for so long since before her mother had died. Well, no point second-guessing herself now. She put a foot on the carriage step, then glanced back. “Write to me.”

Jane grinned. “Every day. Whether you want to hear about them or not.”

“Thank you.”

Before Grace changed her mind she took her seat and gave the order to go.

“Think of it, Grace.” Charlotte practically bounced on the opposite seat. “A whole week to shop and be by ourselves.”

Settling back against the plush velvet squabs, she removed a book from her reticule. Visions of sick children and broken bones flashed through her mind. “Yes, just think about it.”

Rather than make a push to London in one day, Grace had decided to spend a night on the road. It would make for two days of leisurely travel rather than one hard day. She'd ordered a guidebook depicting all of the most interesting historical places along the route. Never before having been to a larger town than Bedford, Charlotte agreed to everything Grace suggested. They spent a pleasant day sightseeing and having luncheon at a very good tavern.

Several hours later, they pulled into the yard of the King's Head Inn, in Hunton Bridge. Her groom, Neep, handed her down first. She was shaking her skirts out when Charlotte came up beside her. “Grace, this is so exciting. A real inn.”

Grace resisted the urge to tell her they couldn't very well stay at an imaginary inn. “Yes. I've been told the rooms are comfortable and they have a good cook.”

“They must, look how lovely the building is.”

She hid her smile. Wondering if she'd ever been so impressed by an inn. “Er, yes. Well then, shall we go in?”

The innkeeper came out to greet them. “My lady, your maids arrived some time ago. I'll have one of my daughters take you to your chambers.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you for letting me know.” When she reached the top of the staircase, she squeezed her sister's shoulder. “Charlotte, meet me in the parlor after you've changed.”

The door to Charlotte's chamber opened, and her lady's maid, May, held it open. “Oh, Lady Charlotte, come see. It's ever so nice.”

Charlotte turned to Grace and grinned. “I'll see you downstairs.”

Across the corridor, Bolton, Grace's lady's maid, opened the door for her and shook her head. “That May's got nothing but feathers for brains.”

Grace laughed. “Yes, I understand. Well, neither of them have stayed in an inn before. They'll calm down in a few days.”

Bolton pursed her lips. “I hope so, my lady, or she and I will have to have a talk. She can't be acting like a skitter-brain in London.”

May would come out on the losing end of it, Grace had no doubt. “Come, I must wash and change.”

“I'll go order your wash water.”

Left alone in her chamber, Grace thought back to the last time she'd spent the night at an inn and glanced at the large four-post bed with longing. A too vivid picture of Worthington lying next to her touching and kissing her raced through her mind. Her body responded to the memory, and an ache between her legs made her want him even more. If only he could hold her just once more. If she could watch him sleeping and not have to leave.

She sighed.

“If you want to lie down, I'll tell them to push dinner back.”

Goodness, Grace hadn't even heard her maid return. She needed to stop all this mooning about. It would do her no good at all. “No, I'm just a little fatigued from the travel. Not being in a coach until to-morrow is what I need.”

That and to stop thinking about Worthington.

* * *

“What the devil's wrong with you?”

Matt glanced to his side as he made his way to the stables. A large bay gelding pranced prettily next to him. Mounted on the horse was the Marquis of Kenilworth. “Good morning, Kenilworth.”

“Aren't you going with the hunt to-day?”

For some reason, chasing after a small fox did not hold its usual interest. “No. As a matter of fact, I'm leaving for Town.”

“Why the deuce would you want to do that?” The man glanced at the group starting to form around the Master of the Hunt. “Only thing there this time of year are mamas getting their girls ready for their come out. Better off staying here.” Kenilworth raised a brow, and drawled, “Unless you're in the market, that is.”

Mac was leading the curricle out of the coaching house, and Matt was in a hurry. It hadn't been until he'd arrived that he realized he was in completely male company. If his host's ladies were in London, so might his lady be. Though he'd be damned if he would let Kenilworth know anything about her. He gave the marquis a chagrined look. “My sister's coming out.”

“I don't envy you that.” Kenilworth gave a shudder. “Remember hearing what my mother had to go through with my sisters. Never been so glad to be the youngest. I made sure I wasn't sent down from Oxford the whole of their Seasons.”

Matt grinned. “I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks.”

“Oh no, you won't.” Kenilworth looked at Matt as if he'd lost his mind. “I'm there for parliament and other entertainments. You're not going to catch me around the types of parties you'll be attending.” The other man tipped his hat as he rode away. “Might see you at Brooks though.”

Matt climbed into his carriage, saluting the hunters as he drove toward the main road. He had no idea if his lady would attend the Season or not, but someone there must know who she was. As soon as he made sure his sisters were settled, he'd visit Marcus and Phoebe.

* * *

Charlotte and Grace had finally reached Mayfair. She rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Take us by Stanwood House if you please.”

“Are we go'n in, my lady?”

“No, I merely wish to show Lady Charlotte where it is.”

Ever since they'd reached London's outskirts, Charlotte had been excitedly pointing out all the people, conveyances, and buildings.

“This is really much different than some of the areas we went through.”

“It is,” Grace agreed, wishing there was some way she could help those less fortunate. “Anyone who has pretensions of being in Polite Society lives in Mayfair. Here we come into Berkeley Square. Our house is the fourth one in from the end.”

Charlotte clapped her hands delightedly. “I can't wait to live here. That one floor looks to be all windows. Is that the school-room?”

“It is.” Grace craned her neck to be able to see it. “I'm exceedingly proud of how it turned out.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at Herndon House in Grosvenor Square.

As the coach rolled to a stop, her uncle's butler opened the door, and soon they were being led down a long corridor to the back of the house and announced.

“My dears.” Aunt Herndon rose from her desk and bustled toward them, a harried expression on her face. “I wasn't expecting you until closer to dinner. Not that it matters, my housekeeper has had your rooms ready for days.” She hugged Grace then said, “Dear Charlotte, how you've grown. Let me look at you.” She held Charlotte's chin with two fingers, turning her face one way then the other. “Perfect.” Aunt Herndon dropped her hand and smiled at Grace. “I could not have asked for better.”

Charlotte's chin firmed and Grace smothered a sigh. This was not the time for her sister to become miffed. It was very fortunate they were only spending one week at their aunt's house. “Charlotte?”

Charlotte curtseyed gracefully. “How pleased I am to meet you again, Aunt Herndon.”

Their aunt smiled again, glancing at Grace. “Despite what everyone said would be a bad result. You've done a wonderful job, my dear. You should be proud.”

Grace's throat tightened. “Thank you for that and all your support.”

Until her aunt had given her approval, she hadn't realized how concerned she'd been about Charlotte's come out. Other than her maternal grandfather, Lord Timothy, none of her relatives thought she was capable of raising her brothers and sisters. Her heart contracted at the memory of panic and nightmares her younger brothers and sisters had when, for a short time, it appeared they would be parceled off in ones and twos to family members. If it hadn't been for his and then Uncle Herndon's support, she would not have been awarded guardianship.

Aunt Herndon turned back to Charlotte. “Call me Aunt Almeria, my child. I predict you'll have a wonderful Season with many offers.”

A few moments later, Charlotte and Grace were shown to their chambers, urged to rest, and informed that tea would be served at four o'clock in the back parlor. Grace removed her hat and gloves, handing them to Bolton. She'd not been able to cast off the lowness of spirit that had affected her since her rendezvous with Worthington, but her aunt's words strengthened her resolve. There was more to her life than lying contented and loved in his arms. As hard as it was, her main focus must be on Charlotte and the rest of the children. Not Worthington and the way he made her laugh or agreed with her about political issues close to her heart. And God help her, not the way he held and kissed her and called her his love.

Yet whenever she thought of him her body burned with remembered pleasure. That could not happen any longer. This whole matter had become much more complicated than she'd expected. Drat the man. Why couldn't he leave her alone?

Bolton helped her change moments before Charlotte fairly flounced into Grace's chamber. “I cannot believe she did that.” Charlotte seethed with indignation. “As if I was some sort of prized horse. I should have shown her my teeth.”

Grace passed a hand over her brow, then fixed her sister with a look. “You may as well calm down now. It will not be the last time something of the sort occurs.”

Charlotte frowned and her lower lip thrust out. “Did you have to go through it?”

Drawing Charlotte to the small sofa set before the marble fireplace, Grace placed her arm around her sister as she thought back to her first Season. “Yes, of course. It won't last long and fighting it will only make you appear churlish. It is for this exact reason we practice our manners. So that no matter the provocation, one is able to respond with proper restraint.”

She might have been better off recalling that at the inn with Worthington.

Charlotte took Grace's hand and rubbed it against her cheek. “Oh, Grace, I'm so sorry. You must think me the most spoiled creature in nature. I didn't mean to upset you. I'll do everything you taught me, I promise.”

She gave her sister a hug. “Thank you. Just remember, it won't last long.” She tried to smile. “I'm sending a note round to Lady Evesham. If she is receiving, we shall visit her.”

Charlotte glowed. “I would love to go and thank her for recommending us to Madame Lisette.”

“Well then, return to your chambers and dress for tea.”

Charlotte gave her a hug and a kiss then rushed out of the room. It was hard to imagine now that Grace had ever been that carefree. Tilting her head from one side to the other, Grace tried to loosen the kinks in her neck.

Bolton rubbed her shoulders, digging her fingers expertly into the knots in Grace's shoulders “By the looks of it, my lady, you're going to have your hands full with Lady Charlotte.”

Grace closed her eyes briefly. “I forbid you to even think such horrible thoughts.” She grinned wearily. “I must have a word with my aunt. If she was expecting a shy, missish young lady, she'll be dreadfully disappointed.”

She began to rise, but Bolton made Grace sit while she worked on her shoulders. “What you need to do, my lady, is come out of the mopes. You've been walking around blue-deviled for weeks now. While you're getting Lady Charlotte's gowns, you should buy some for yourself. There's nothing like a new gown and a pretty bonnet to perk you right up.”

Some of Grace's tension eased under Bolton's hands. “Yes, you have a good point. I shall speak to Madame Lisette.”

After a few more minutes, Bolton went into the dressing room.

Grace moved to the pretty burl-inlaid desk and searched for paper, a pen, ink, and wax. Once she'd gathered them together, she wrote Phoebe a note. She sealed it, then rang for a footman. “Please take this round to Dunwood House and wait for an answer.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He returned about twenty minutes later. “My lady, Lady Evesham would be honored to receive you after tea, or to have you join her for tea. Whichever it is you desire.”

“Please tell her as we have arrived just to-day, I must take tea with my aunt, but I shall do myself the honor of waiting on her immediately afterward.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Grace grabbed her cloak, descended the stairs, and slipped out of one of the French windows to take a turn in the garden at the back of the town house. A flagstone path meandered around the fountain, a much smaller version of one at Versailles, strolling over to the roses on the other side of the fountain. The garden was surrounded on three sides by a tall stone wall. Rose canes scrambled up trellises and the two arbors with seats nestled in them. Grace peered closely at the bits of green springing forth from the brownish-gray stalks. How lovely this would all be come late spring. Perhaps she should plant more roses at Stanwood House. She looked at the watch pinned to her gown. It was almost four o'clock. Retracing her path, Grace arrived as tea was being brought in.