Chapter 10
Grace settled into one of the wooden chairs that had been brought into the drawing room for the express purpose of playing Toilette. The day out of doors had been delightful, but she was grateful for an evening in front of a warm fire.
Not that she’d suffered from the cold. Quite the opposite, as the snowflake competition with Lord Gladsby had heated her in a way nothing else could. Even now, his content smile made any resolve to keep her distance melt like the snowflakes they’d caught.
“Before we start,” Lady Hamdon said, “shall we settle on a forfeit?”
“Yes,” Bradley and Anthony said in unison.
Grace covered her laugh, but Prudence did not bother. They all knew what the favored forfeit would be.
“I can see you two are eager to kiss your sweethearts,” Pru said, “but perhaps we should choose a different forfeit for those of us without a beau.”
“Come now, Pru. It is only a kiss,” Bradley said. “It can even be a brotherly peck on the cheek.”
“It better be brotherly if it’s coming from you. No blowing raspberries on my cheek like when we were children.”
Bradley chuckled but pledged to be on his best behavior.
“Perhaps we should have a forfeit for those not interested in a kiss,” Lord Gladsby said.
Bradley snorted. “What fun is that?”
“Personally, I find it highly entertaining to see people play a contrary spirit.” Diana eyed her husband, a smirk pulling at her lips.
“You are devious, my love. I am not sure I trust you to call an appropriate action for me to play the opposite.”
Diana blushed. “Really, Bradley. I am not the one who makes inappropriate suggestions in this relationship.”
Everyone chuckled but agreed they would have another forfeit.
In lieu of tokens, they agreed that forfeits would be paid as the game progressed.
Several calculating glances passed among the members of the room, and Grace nearly laughed.
Her brother would find a way to trap his wife into a kiss before the night was out, she was sure of it.
“I shall play the lady first,” Lady Hamdon said. “Anthony, you shall be the brush. Miss Prudence, you are the comb. Alan, you are the hairpin, and Miss Lenning, you are the cologne.”
“What about me?” Bradley asked.
“You are the pomade and your wife can be the mirror.”
With everyone set, the game of Toilette began. Lady Hamdon called an “All my toilette” on the first round. Chaos ensued as everyone switched seats and somehow the lady managed to steal a spot and leave her husband as the one without a chair.
Prudence leaned over and whispered, “I think they planned it like that in order to make good on the forfeit.”
Grace snickered.
The couple kissed, and Lord Hamdon took up the seat in the middle. Items were called and people changed seats, multiple kisses were given and a few people chose to play contrary spirit.
When Prudence stole Lord Gladsby’s seat, he chose the contrary spirit. The grin Prudence cast Grace’s way made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was mischief afoot, and she worried she was about to be caught in the middle of it.
“Say Miss Lenning is not lovely.”
Lord Gladsby’s blue eyes shot to hers, making it difficult not to squirm in her chair. She should have known Prudence would do something like this.
The room was silent, waiting for his contradictory statement. He turned to fully face her, his gaze intent. The usual light blue of his eyes appeared dark in the low lighting. Grace’s breath caught as she waited for him to speak.
“Miss Lenning is absolutely beautiful.”
His words sunk deep into her soul and she had to remind herself it was only a game. He was not actually complimenting her, but her racing pulse and shallow breaths said otherwise.
When the game ended, Bradley complained that Grace had never been caught in the middle. “I think you cheated.”
She rose from her seat, ready to follow Prudence upstairs so they could get ready for bed. “How does one cheat at Toilette? I am simply swifter than you. Either that, or you wanted to be caught.”
Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away to hide a smile, but Diana’s rosy cheeks gave him away.
Grace patted him on the back. “I am not na?ve. I remember how competitive you were at this game when we were children. If you had really wanted to best me, you would have found a way.”
“She has you there.” Anthony chuckled as he led his wife from the room.
“Very true.” Bradley leaned down and kissed Grace’s cheek. “Good night, sweet sister, rest well.”
She smiled up at him, then made her way to the door.
“Gladsby, hold up,” Bradley said. “I have something I would speak to you about.”
Lord Gladsby, who had been nearly out of the room himself, turned. Grace bid him goodnight and was about to leave herself when Bradley called to her.
“Oh, Grace.”
“Yes?”
“I win.”
She looked at him quizzically. He pointed up. Above her hung the mistletoe she and Lord Gladsby had found, and next to her, the man himself. In the soft candlelight, the tips of his hair shone like spun gold. The shadows deepened the angles in his face, making them appear more pronounced.
Grace ducked her head, the thought of kissing Lord Gladsby far more pleasing than she could ever admit. But it was only a game. A Christmas lark that people played every year. It would mean nothing, at least to him. To her…
Oh, how she wished mistletoe kisses were real. At least she wished this one was.
Reaching up, Lord Gladsby plucked a white berry from the cluster and held it out to her.
“May I?” His voice was hushed.
He would most likely give her a brotherly kiss on the cheek, or one upon her forehead. Certainly, he would never give her a real kiss.
She tried to speak, but her first attempt came out more like a squeak. Finally, she managed a breathy, “yes” as she took the berry.
He drew near, and she was grateful that only Bradley and Diana remained in the room to witness her first kiss from someone unrelated to her. Prudence would have made things exceedingly embarrassing with calls to rush the thing along.
Lord Gladsby placed a gentle hand on her cheek and then ever so softly brushed his lips over hers. It was light and feathery, like a butterfly’s wings, but the feel of it mixed with the heady scent of his aftershave sent Grace’s heartbeat tripping over itself again.
All too soon he stepped back. “Goodnight, Grace.”
She smiled shyly, her hands trembling, the overwhelming urge to beg for more on the edge of her lips. But good sense won out. “Goodnight.”
It was not until she reached her room that she realized he had called her by her Christian name. She floated about her room, readying for bed, hardly knowing what she did. There was something so intimate in the use of such a personal name. He must have meant something by it.
A rhythmic rapping sounded on the door, and she did not even bother answering. Prudence would let herself in if she answered or not. Sure enough, a dark head of curls popped around the door.
“I saw that.”
“Whatever are you speaking of?”
“Lord Gladsby kissed you.”
“How did you—”
“Every hall in this house looks into the interior court. It is not hard to see the door to the drawing room from the stairs. How was it? Is kissing everything you hoped it would be?”
“Prudence!”
“Come now, Grace. You cannot say you have not thought about it or wondered. From my vantage point, it seemed rather brief. Did he fully touch your lips or just the side on your cheek? Does it have a taste?”
Grace placed her hands on her cheeks and spun away. Prudence was far more forthcoming than she could ever have been. She’d never even wondered if kisses had a flavor.
“Do not hold out, Grace. It may be years before I get to experience my first kiss, and I want to know what to expect.”
Grace giggled nervously. “Did you not kiss James Lisonbee at last year’s Christmas party?”
“It’s not the same. That was just for larks. You got to kiss the man you have been in love with for the past year.”
The giddiness in her chest subsided, her expression sobering “You knew?”
Her whispered question was met with a cheeky grin. “Of course I know, silly. Everyone knows. Why else do you think Bradley and Anthony planned to bring you two together this Christmas?” Prudence’s hands flew to her mouth and her big grey eyes widened. “I was not supposed to say that.”
Grace’s thoughts came to a crashing halt and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. So it was not just a matter of her brother’s matchmaking. Lord and Lady Hamdon were in on this as well. Anthony she could see, but Lord Gladsby’s own sister?
“How do you know?” Grace wrapped her arms about herself to ward off a sudden chill. What would Lord Gladsby say if he found out?
Her sister shook her head, her lips firmly shut.
“Pru.” She growled, her hands coming to rest at her sides. “I need to know. Have you been a party to this?”
“No! I would never. You know how hard it is for me to keep a secret.”
That was true. They all knew better than to tell her anything that they did not want the entire family to know within a matter of minutes. “Then how did you discover it? Or are you simply making assumptions?”
“I overheard Bradley and Diana talking at the breakfast table the morning after we arrived. I asked them about it, and they insisted I not say a word.”
At least she had made it a few days. That was far longer than she’d kept any of Grace’s secrets.
Mindlessly, Grace picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.
Did Lord Gladsby know of this? Would he be angry when he discovered the subterfuge of not only her family, but his?
Or was he a party to it? Maybe he had feelings for her and had been too reticent to admit it. Such a thing was possible, was it not?
But she was the daughter of a poor country gentleman, and he was a baron. While there had been matches of much greater disparity than theirs, Society often frowned upon them.