Chapter Three
Grosvenor Square
Mayfair, London
Constance came awake from a light doze when the carriage rocked to a halt. A quick glance out the window didn’t reveal that they’d gone to her home. “Where are we?”
A soft chuckle met her inquiry from the man sitting across from her, the man who’d rescued her from not only the attacker but also from the horrid whispers of the people at the rout.
“You didn’t tell me your address, and once you dropped into a doze, I decided to bring you to my townhouse. We can clear everything up here.”
Surprise filled her chest, and accelerated her heartbeat. “Was that wise?”
He shrugged as the door swung open. “A bit more wise than staying at the rout, hmm?” Once the steps were put down, he quickly exited the vehicle then turned back and offered a gloved hand to her. “Let me help you out.”
Since it was decidedly chilly in the carriage—April was a finnicky month after all—she agreed.
The second she put her fingers into his palm, he closed his around them and then assisted her down the steps, his grip sure and steady.
“Thank you for the kindness.” Even Lydia hadn’t given her that, but she would need to address that later.
“Not kindness, just the honorable thing.” He ushered her to the small walkway that led to a green-painted front door. To his driver, he said, “Thank you for the assistance, Peter. When Miss…?” He glanced at her.
Constance sighed. “Mrs. Knight, actually,” she grudgingly gave him.
He nodded and looked at the driver. “When Mrs. Knight is ready to return home, I’ll fetch you. Meanwhile, take the vehicle and horse to the mews. You are more than welcome to get dinner here. I’m certain my housekeeper wouldn’t mind.”
“I’ll do that.”
She silently thanked what she assumed was a footman for opening the door for her.
Though he eyed her with curiosity, she stood awkwardly in the short entry hall while Mr. Hamilton followed her inside.
When he greeted the footman, who took his greatcoat and a top hat he must have retrieved from the carriage, he peered at her.
“Are you hungry? Want tea to at least warm you?”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you.” It had been a night full of one disappointment after the other. Frankly, she didn’t have the patience to fight through anything else, and if he was ready and able to make decisions for her, she was all for it.
“So damned polite, Mrs. Knight.” As he shook his head, he addressed the footman. “Daniel, please have Madison order tea. Have it sent up to the drawing room.”
“Right away, Mr. Hamilton.”
She rallied a bit when he showed her upstairs to a drawing room that was tastefully but simply decorated. In fact, the style matched the rest of the townhouse from what she’d seen. “This is a lovely space, Mr. Hamilton. Your wife must have some talent for decorating.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“What?”
“I’m not married, nor am I attached, much to my parents’ chagrin and disappointment.
” After waving her onto one of the low sofas, he sat in a chair near the location.
“As the second son of a viscount, nothing much is expected of me, and because I’m not the heir, I am only thought of when my brother is out of pocket. ”
Well, that was interesting. “How did you know what was happening to me tonight?”
“I didn’t.” When he shrugged, she watched the play of his green superfine jacket as it pulled taut across his decently broad shoulders.
“I was on my way home from my office. I’d spent the day in court and just wanted my favorite chair and my dinner, but a glance out the window showed you being attacked. I couldn’t let that stand.”
“Are you in the habit of taking on the role of rescuer?”
A slight hint of ruddy color rose over his collar. “Not that I can remember.”
Conversation halted when an older man she assumed was the butler brought in tea on a silver tray. Constance’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. She swallowed to encourage much needed moisture into her suddenly dry throat.
“Thank you, Madison. That will be all tonight.”
“Ring if you should need anything else, Mr. Hamilton.” With a half-bow, the butler exited the room, leaving her once more alone with this stranger.
Without waiting for a sign from him, Constance filled one of the porcelain cups with the steaming, amber liquid. “Why did you rush to my rescue tonight?” she asked as she handed him the cup. When her gloved fingers brushed his naked ones, odd tingles moved up her arm to her elbow.
“I couldn’t let that man attack you, now could I?”
“I suppose not.” When she poured out a cup of tea for herself, he added a small lump of sugar to his then he removed a slim, silver flask from an interior jacket pocket, uncorked it, and added a small measure of liquor to the cup. “What is that?”
“Brandy. It has been quite the day.” After lifting his cup in salute to her, he took a hearty sip. A sigh immediately followed. “Yes, that’s the thing.” He watched her while she sipped her own tea with no accompaniments. “Tell me about yourself, Mrs. Knight. Where is your husband?”
“Oh.” The hand holding the teacup trembled. “Uh, he died a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” That answering emotion reflected in his gray eyes. Without another word, he relocated from his chair to sit beside her on the sofa. “What were you doing tonight, attending that rout?”
She couldn’t help another sigh. “Honestly, I’d hoped to reenter society with my cousin’s help and support since she’s of the ton. I would like to marry again.” The silence that followed gave her the opportunity to study him as her mind whirled over the whole situation.
“Why the devil would you want that?”
The way he asked the question with a look of shock on his face tugged a grin from her.
“I only was married for four months, and two of those months, my husband was away with the military, so I have been a widow longer than I was a wife. I’d like to experience a union in its entirety, perhaps have the chance at a family. ”
Yet with the way unfounded rumors were flying about tonight at the rout, she rather thought her reputation had already been shredded, which would reduce the opportunities available to her of finding a decent husband.
“Ah, that’s understandable. At least from a woman’s point of view.
” He took another large sip of his tea. “As for myself, I am currently evading my mother’s efforts to make matches for me.
Since my brother was married two years ago, she has turned all her attentions on me, and I am not best pleased. ”
A giggle left her throat as Constance selected a small cake from the tray. Clearly, she was feeling better than she had earlier, aches and pains notwithstanding. “You don’t wish to try your hand at being a husband?”
“I do not, for one reason alone—I simply don’t have the time.”
“Why is that? Too busy playing the hero?” she asked around bites of the cake, which only made her hungrier. When had she last eaten? To be honest, she couldn’t remember.
“Hardly.” The grin he offered caused queer tingles to scud through her lower belly.
Surely that was an aberration. “I’m not in the habit of doing that.
Only tonight. But I am a barrister. Most of my waking hours are spent in researching, writing notes, interviewing witnesses or the person I’m defending, or arguing those cases in court.
” With another swig, he drained his cup.
“Adding a wife to that would sorely tax me.”
“Yet your parents continue to vex you with lectures and matches. That is hardly ideal for a man of…?”
“One and thirty,” he answered as he leaned forward to refresh his cup.
“My poor mother has been after me for a long time to marry, even as I toiled at my craft in an effort to make a living.” A sound that was a mix of a huff and a snort came from him.
“You would think my parents would act pleased that I’m not a layabout or a scoundrel, but here we are.
” With his sandy-blond hair in a windblown style, his smart choices in well-tailored clothing, and the tenor rumble of his voice, he was quite an attractive man.
“It’s admirable what you’re doing. What made you decide to be a barrister to make a living?”
“I’ve always been interested in the law, and since I abhor politics, I stayed away from that.
My parents didn’t think I’d amount to much being the spare, so I decided to pursue my own interests.
” He drained most of his cup. “While I enjoyed being a solicitor, it didn’t offer enough mental stimulation or excitement, so I kept going.
Only in the last year or so have I gone it alone as a barrister in my own right. ”
“Surely your father is proud of that.” As they spoke, Constance continued to nibble at various sweets on the tea tray, but what she really craved was hand pies of a savory nature.
“It varies from day to day.” Eventually, he set his cup and saucer on the low table before focusing on her once more. “By the by, my given name is Gregory. I would prefer if you would address me as such. Mr. Hamilton is far too formal.”
She nodded. “I suppose we are well past that.” When he removed the cup and saucer from her hands and set it next to his, she was once more reminded of his proximity and how drawn to him she was for no reason she could think of. “I’m Constance, or you may use Connie if you’d like. My cousin does.”
“Why would I do that when your given name is so much more beautiful than the shortened version?”
Heat sneaked into her cheeks. Was the man flirting with her? Surely not. “Well, whatever you do, don’t call me the Widow Knight. That makes me feel as if I’m eighty years old.”
Gregory snickered. “I understand that. Mr. Hamilton sounds as if it’s my father being addressed. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder to see if he’s lurking.” Then his expression sobered. “How are you fairing after your ordeal? Are you hurt?”