Chapter 8
Alan readjusted himself quickly, not because he disliked the contact, but because he enjoyed Grace’s warmth far too much, and that simply would not do.
Thoughts of his father served as an excellent reminder of how ill-suited he was for her.
For any lady, actually. What woman would want to be shackled to such an impetuous, reckless man?
A man with blood on his hands and a whole lifetime of regrets in his heart.
Grace remained far too quiet, her gaze bouncing about the landscape. Her pink cheeks attested to the nip in the air, and he wondered if he’d kept her out too long. Or perhaps his admission of selfishness had made her leery of his company.
He adjusted his grip on the reins. “I’m sorry,” he blurted at the same time she said, “It’s hard to—”
“Pardon me,” he said. “I’d not meant to interrupt you.”
“No, it is I who interrupted you, but I’m confused as to why you feel you need to apologize again.”
“I fear I have made your excursion exceedingly morose.”
“Not at all. We both know what it is to lose a father, and I am honored that you would trust me with your regrets. I too harbor many in my own interactions with my father. It is hard to lose someone when you still have so much to say.”
He scoffed inwardly. How could someone as perfect as Grace have any regrets in her behavior?
She was full of forgiveness and understanding.
Even now, instead of castigating him for his obviously self-absorbed actions toward his father, she was connecting with him.
Then again, she did not know the whole of things and hopefully he could keep it that way.
“Even so,” he said, “I’d not meant to burden you with my own regrets.”
Her hand pulled free of the robe across her lap, and she placed it on his forearm. “It is no burden, Lord Gladsby. We are friends, are we not? Friends share their burdens with one another. It makes the load so much lighter to bear.”
A warm tingle started at the spot where her hand lay upon his arm and feathered out until it engulfed his whole body. With it came a sense of rightness to her words. He wanted to linger in the sensation, but at the sight of his home, logic again took over.
He was not worthy to have his burden lifted. It was his fault, after all.
The moment they entered Engalworth, Grace was swept away by the other ladies.
It should have been a relief, and for the rest of the day Alan tried to convince himself that it was, but the moment she entered the drawing room that evening he knew he was lying to himself.
When she was with him, he truly felt his burden lifted, and it terrified him.
Could he really watch her go on and marry someone else?
Just the thought made him grimace. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to wipe the unwanted thought from his mind.
“Are you well?” Emma asked.
He turned to face his sister. She gazed up at him, concern written across her face, her completely grown-up face.
How had his baby sister grown into such a beautiful and capable woman, but at the same time, an aggravating one?
If it was not for her interference, Grace would not be going to London to find a husband.
Of course, it was only a matter of time until some local gentleman took notice of her. At least he’d have had more time before he had to step aside.
“Why did you—” He stopped himself. Asking Emma her motives with Grace in such close proximity would not be the best course of action.
She might overhear them and all outcomes of that would spell disaster.
At best, she would think he did not want her here.
At worst, she’d think he was jealous and upset with his sister…
which he was, but Grace was the last person who needed to know that.
“Why did I what, Alan?” Emma’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle as if she’d read him like her favorite book.
“Nothing.”
“I do not believe you.”
He ignored her comment. “What do you have planned for our after-dinner activity?”
She grinned. “Buffy Gruffy.”
A groan escaped him, and she chuckled. Alan had never really seen the appeal in a game where the blindfolded person had to guess a person’s identity by only the sound of their voice.
It was too easy. No matter how much others disguised their voices, he always guessed right.
It was excessively dull compared to more active games like Toilette.
Emma leaned in. “Come now, you can humor me just this once. Anthony loves the game. If you will indulge my husband tonight, we will choose whichever game you would like to play tomorrow.”
“Very well,” he said, just as Gibbons announced dinner.
Grace was tempted to rub her full belly to ease the tension but managed to resist the impulse.
Whoever Lord Gladsby hired as cook was extremely talented, as the fare had been just as delicious tonight as it had last night.
It made her all the more grateful that fashion had moved away from the corseted gowns of her mother’s era and into the looser ones of the current day.
Now no one could tell she’d indulged herself far too much.
Thankfully, by the time the men entered the drawing room after their port, her stomach had mostly settled.
“Bradley. Move this settee, won’t you?” Anthony said, referring to the place where Grace now sat. “We need to push it out of the way so we can circle the chairs. Do excuse us, won’t you, Grace?”
She wanted to ask why it could not be the other settee, when Lord Gladsby took hold of the other end.
Rising, she asked, “what is this all for?”
“We’re going to play Buffy Gruffy,” Anthony said with a grin.
She clasped her hands behind her back and stepped out of their way. They’d played the game several times growing up, and she remembered how wily he could be. “I’ll keep my toes tucked under my chair then.”
He and Bradley chuckled. Perhaps she should warn the other ladies of their underhanded ways. She could not count the times they’d trod on her foot to get her to make a noise in her normal voice.
Once the chairs had been placed in a circle, they all sat except Lord Gladsby who’d offered to be blindfolded first. Grace expected him to wander about the circle after they’d all quickly changed places, but he calmly walked to the chair directly in front of him.
With three quick questions, he correctly guessed Diana.
After the blindfold was securely fasted about Diana’s head, everyone quickly and quietly switched seats. Slowly she walked to the edge of the circle until her knee bumped her husband’s.
Grace smiled at the way Bradley pitched his voice to sound like a little girl. It was a terrible imitation that caused multiple people to laugh. She was sure their laughter would give away who the voice was not, but it must not have been clear to Diana, for she guessed Prudence.
Having guessed wrong, Diana moved on. Everyone silently shuffled as she moved in search of the next person. This time, she touched Grace.
Diana reached down and patted Grace’s knee, then grinned. “Are you fond of painting?”
Grace spoke slowly, trying to add a crackle to her voice, hoping she sounded like an old woman. “Not so much, deary.”
Diana cocked her head to the side. “How about harp playing?”
Grace knew she’d been caught, but she tried to confuse her anyway.
“What’s a harp?” she rasped.
“I knew it,” Diana exclaimed. “This is Grace.”
Everyone chuckled as Grace let out a sigh of defeat. “It is.”
Standing still so Diana could place the blindfold on her, Grace took stock of the occupants of each chair. She knew everyone would move the moment she started searching, but if she knew where they were now, she could follow the sound of at least one set of feet when she was blindfolded.
With the cloth securely in place, Grace counted to ten while they all shifted.
Prudence had been to her direct left near the doors.
Her light step was easy to follow since it sounded different from the men’s boots.
Grace heard her pass in front of her before someone signaled the beginning of the game with a clap.
Turning to her right, she slowly walked to the edge of the circle, but the seat she bumped into was empty.
Had Prudence gone to the left or right? She opted for the right, that chair being placed closer to the fire.
With how cold Pru had been of late, she’d want the warmer seat.
Her knee brushed someone else’s, but she could tell by the sound that it was not Prudence. Her sister’s gown would sound different brushing against hers. She decided to move on and not question the person, hoping Pru would be the next in line.
She continued right, then thought better of it. That would take her further from the fire. Perhaps left. She took a step back preparing to turn, but her foot caught on someone else’s and she tumbled backwards right into the chair she’d bumped into earlier. Only now it was occupied.
Arms wrapped around her, and a familiar scent filled her nose.
It was the same smell she remembered from so many interactions with Lord Gladsby, a mixture of polished leather and something citrusy.
Her good sense must have fled because instead of quickly removing herself from his lap, she reached out and grasped his jacket.
She could give the excuse that she was just steadying herself, but she knew it was a lie.
The last thing she wanted was for him to push her back to her feet just now.
He pitched his voice comically low. “Are you alright, miss?”
“A gentleman, then?” she countered.
“Hardly,” Anthony said from across the room. “A gentleman wouldn’t hold a woman so securely on his lap.”
Several people chuckled, and Grace’s face heated. She pushed at his chest, remembering they had an audience. It really was scandalous the way she was situated. Thank goodness everyone in the room was family, or close to it.
Unfortunately, her feet tangled in her gown and with the blindfold on she could not find her balance.
Large hands grasped her waist to steady her.
She stood on one foot trying to shake her other free, but to no avail.
One hand dropped from her waist as the other slipped around to her belly.
She held her breath, the heat of his arm soaking into her middle.
In her mind, she understood that Lord Gladsby was simply trying to prop her up while he tugged at her skirt to free her foot, but the touch was so intimate she was surprised her brother wasn’t demanding Lord Gladsby marry her this instant.
The tension about her foot abruptly released, and it slipped free. When it hit the floor, she stumbled to the side. Two more hands reached up and grabbed her arm.
“Whoa there,” Bradley said in his regular voice, “I don’t need you accosting me in the same manner you did—oof!”
Grace gave into the irresistible urge to laugh.
Others in the room laughed as well. The whole situation was completely ridiculous.
Not only was she falling all over the place, but somehow Lord Gladsby had managed to smack her brother while still holding onto her with one hand.
He must really be competitive if he was willing to go to such lengths to keep from being revealed.
Through her giggles, she finally managed to call him out. “You need not abuse my brother, Lord Gladsby. I already know it is you.”
His slow, velvety tones met her ears. “Who said I was silencing him? Perhaps I was defending your honor, since he is the gentleman who tripped you.”
That brought more laughter to the room. Grace reached up and removed the blindfold to find both men smiling at her.
In the middle of the commotion a light knock came at the drawing room door.
“Enter,” Lord Gladsby called.
A young woman not much older than Grace stepped through, a whimpering little George in her arms.
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady. But you said to come fetch you when he got this way.”
Lady Hamdon rose from her seat and quickly scooped her son out of the nurse’s hands.
“Oh, Georgie.” She snuggled the boy to her shoulder. Barely beyond a baby, the little man child tucked into his mother and calmed.
Anthony rose and began rubbing the little one’s back. Even though she’d seen him in the role several times since George’s birth, it still seemed odd that her brother’s friend was a father. Grace’s eyes strayed to Bradley. What would it be like when he was a father?
Then her gaze shifted to Lord Gladsby, and she took an involuntary step back.
He was glaring at the couple in the center of the room.
Did he dislike his nephew interrupting the game so much?
He was a child. These sorts of things could not be planned.
Perhaps, like many, he felt that children ought not to be brought out of the nursery.
Or even worse, maybe he did not care for children at all.
Come to think of it, the last time she’d seen him interact with his nephew was when the babe was a tiny newborn. Lord Gladsby had seemed comfortable then. Why the callousness now?
“Please excuse us,” Lady Hamdon said, turning slightly toward the others. “We need to help George get back to sleep, but please continue on without us.”
Something about the way George’s legs hung down Lady Hamdon’s very tiny torso made her dress seem like it was faintly bulging at the middle. It was not much, but the realization of what it might mean both thrilled and scared Grace.