Chapter 7
When Alan awoke, he discovered a thick layer of snow had fallen throughout the night. It was not unusual to have a snowstorm or two during the winter, but it was rarely deep enough for a sleigh before Christmas. This year, it seemed, would be the exception.
After consulting with Mrs. Gibbons over what items would be best for his ailing uncle, Alan made his way to the breakfast parlor. His brother-in-law sat across from Grace, the two chatting amicably as they enjoyed breakfast.
He smiled as he filled his plate at the sideboard.
They were discussing Hamdon’s new favorite topic—his son George.
Grace laughed and asked questions in all the right places, something that would endear her to his brother-in-law forever.
He took the seat next to her and a footman instinctively filled his cup with coffee.
“Thank you, Thatcher,” he said reflexively.
The footman nodded and took up his place by the door again.
Hamdon set his fork down and dabbed his mouth. “Grace was just telling me of Mr. Clayton’s illness. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I believe I have everything in order. Mrs. Gibbons in preparing a basket of food and remedies that I intend to deliver after I break my fast.”
“Perhaps you should like some company? Emma is still abed and I, for one, would like to visit Mr. Clayton if he is not to come here.”
Alan glanced between the two. Mr. Clayton had been so specific about not getting anyone else ill.
“It might be contagious, Hamdon. You would not want to bring that back to little George.”
Alan was hesitant himself, but if he did not go, that would leave a servant to carry it over, and they were just as likely to catch the sickness as himself. Probably more so, if it was Mr. or Mrs. Gibbons. No, it was best he go himself. His body was robust enough to handle a little winter cold.
Hamdon frowned down at his plate. “I see. That is a worry.” Then he glanced at Grace. “What are your plans for the morning, Grace?”
“I assumed your wife would have had plans for us, so I have not made any of my own.”
“Well, last night’s snow has left the land quite pretty. Perhaps we could all ride over in the sleigh with Gladsby—at least I assume that is how you plan to travel.” He turned to Alan.
“Yes, but the sickness—”
“Oh, we do not need to go in; we’ll just wait in the beautiful outdoors.”
Alan glanced at Grace, trying to read her expression. She was staring at Hamdon, her brow knit as if she was confused, or maybe pondering his suggestion. Was she worried about the ride in the cold?
“I would enjoy your company,” he finally said to Hamdon, “but it is quite crisp out, and I would not want to cause Miss Lenning any discomfort.”
Grace’s eyes shot to him; her fork suspended in midair with her last bite of food. “Oh, I do not mind the cold, but I would not like to intrude on your visit if you’d rather go alone.”
“It is no colder than it was yesterday,” Hamdon insisted. “Plus, we’ll have the lap robes. It will be plenty warm and, like Gladsby said, he’d love the company.”
A small smile curved her lips, and she dipped her head in assent. “All right then, when would you like to leave?”
Alan glanced down at his full plate, then over at her empty one. “I need some time to finish my breakfast, but we can leave after that. The basket for Mr. Clayton should be nearly ready by then.”
“Very well.” She stood, and they all followed suit. “I’ll retrieve my redingote and meet you in a quarter hour.”
Both he and Hamdon nodded as she left the room. Alan’s eyes trailed after her for several seconds before he retook his seat.
“She is a dear,” Hamdon said. “After the tricks Bradley and I pulled on her as boys, she has every right to dislike me. Instead, she lets me go on like a fool about little George.” He shook his head, an amused smile on his face.
“She does have a forgiving nature. I suppose it is in the name. She grants grace to everyone wherever she goes, even if they were rascally boys who don’t deserve it.”
Hamdon chuckled. “Well, those rascally boys love her for it, and we’ll do anything to make sure she is happy.”
The way he eyed Alan made him inwardly squirm. Wriggling discomfort settled into his stomach and he shifted his weight, leaning away from him hoping to disperse the sensation. If he did not know any better, he’d think that last statement was actually a threat.
“I would expect nothing less.”
Grace tied her bonnet strings snugly under her chin.
She’d tucked a scarlet scarf into the top of her dark blue redingote, which she hoped would keep the chill from reaching her neck.
When the back of her neck got cold, the rest of her always followed suit, and that would not do for a trip that would have her out in the wintry weather for who knew how long.
Heavy footfalls brought her around. Lord Gladsby and Anthony were descending the stairs from the family wing.
“I am sorry, Gladsby,” Anthony said, “but I feel it is for the best. Do go on and enjoy yourself, though. Give Mr. Clayton my love and well wishes for his recovery.”
Grace tipped her head to the side as she pulled on her left glove. What was he up to now? His insistence at breakfast about keeping Lord Gladsby company had been far too contrived.
“My apologies, Grace,” Anthony said when his feet hit the landing, “but George is a little under the weather and I believe it would be best for me to stay to soothe him. It is hard, you see, for little ones to adjust to new sleeping environments.”
Her left eyebrow went up. The Hamdons employed a nurse to care for their son. If George didn’t want her, wouldn’t the lad be more comfortable with his mother?
Anthony’s smile was too innocent. Was he an accomplice to Bradley’s meddling?
Dropping her stare, she set to taking off her glove. “Perhaps I should stay then.”
“No, no.” He reached a hand out to stop her. “Please do not stay on my account.”
His half smiling insistence was too obvious.
Lord Gladsby glanced at Anthony from the corner of his eye, his brow lowering as if he were starting to suspect something as well. That would not do. She supposed she’d have to play along, if only to keep him from what would be a terrible revelation.
“All right.” She slipped her left glove back on and proceeded to do the same with the right. “Should I see if Prudence would like to come with us?”
“Is she up?” Lord Gladsby asked. “I am quite eager to get this basket delivered straight away.”
Grace shook her head. When she’d left her room, Prudence was still fast asleep in her bed. She’d not realized how a switch of sleeping location would affect Pru. She’d been restless most of the night, only seeming to settle once Grace had left the bed.
“It will not take long, Miss Lenning. The vicarage is a short ride away, and I promise we will hurry.”
Anthony placed a hand on her back and pushed her toward the door. “Yes, you must go quickly. Some of the goods packed in the basket are meant to be consumed warm. We would not want Mr. Clayton’s housekeeper to have to work more than she already does.”
She gave a minute shake of her head and smiled. “That keen on being rid of me, Anthony?” She swatted his hand away. “All right, I’m going. No need to push me around.”
He chuckled.
Lord Gladsby offered his arm as they traversed the few steps to reach the sleigh awaiting them.
Once she was settled, he tucked a thick robe about her lap.
She held her arms aloft, the care so intimate that she was uncertain where to place them.
He focused on his task. She unabashedly focused on him, his nearness fighting the cold in more ways than one.
When he sat beside her, one thing became exceedingly clear.
There would not have been room for three people on the seat with all the blankets he had to keep her warm.
Indeed, he was sitting quite close in the small space, his own lap robe tucked up next to hers.
She had no complaints about the arrangement.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Quite.” She relaxed into the seat allowing her arm to rest slightly against his.
He tapped the rump of the bay mare with the ribbons, and the animal lumbered forward.
Undisturbed snow lay all about them, glistening in the sunlight.
It was so bright she had to squint to look at it.
A plopping sound resonated to her right as a clump of snow fell from a tree limb.
Despite the cold, birds chirped in the trees.
A brilliant red cardinal swooped by and landed on an evergreen to their left.
It was a tight fit for the sleigh every time they passed through a grouping of trees, but the view was magnificent.
“This path is usually used for walking and the occasional horse,” Lord Gladsby said. “We could have taken the main road, but I thought this less traveled route might be a prettier ride today.”
In other words, he did not want to pass anyone on their way, which could be understood in two ways.
Either he was worried about being alone with her and what others might say, or he wanted to be alone with her and this was the most convenient way.
Was it possible he was in league with Anthony and Bradley?
She dismissed the thought as soon as it entered. If Lord Gladsby wanted something, he’d get it. From all she’d seen of him, he was firm and decisive. He did not need his friends to play matchmaker.
She glanced up as the sun shined through the ice drippings, creating scattered bits of rainbow. “It is a beautiful path. I especially enjoy the icicles on the trees. They remind me of my father.”
“How so?”