Chapter 17
Alan checked his cravat in the hallway mirror.
Emma was most definitely playing matchmaker.
He’d begun to suspect as much, but yesterday she’d made it abundantly clear.
To his surprise, he didn’t mind. Daylight had not brought on the change of sentiment he’d expected, and his thoughts still turned to the possibilities.
Perhaps he’d gone completely mad, but after two days spent in Grace’s company, he could not deny the constant desire to make her his wife.
It was completely selfish, he knew. What woman would want to be tied to a man who jumped at his own shadow and apparently screamed in his sleep? Not to mention his penchant for reaching for knives when he thought trouble was anywhere near.
“You’d look particularly handsome this evening, if not for that sour face,” his sister said from behind him.
He spun to face her, his lips pulling into a smirk. “Nonsense. I always look this way. Perhaps you are in need of spectacles.”
She chuckled. “Indeed, your sour expression is a constant, but I do not need any help to see that you have taken special care and shaved for a second time today, nor is it hard to see your extra accessories. Is that Grandfather’s opal ring and stick pin?”
He had added a few more adornments than usual, and perhaps he’d been a little more attentive to his toilette. That she had noticed meant he’d gone overboard. He’d not meant to catch anyone else’s attention. Only Grace’s.
Emma sidled up next to him and lowered her voice. “Is there anyone in particular you are hoping to impress?”
He gave her a flat look. “Really, Emma? We are not children anymore. I can see your conniving from a mile away.”
She grinned. “Is it working?”
Biting back a smile, he said, “A little.”
If his sister had not been such a composed woman, he was certain she would have danced in her place. Instead, her ice-blue eyes twinkled with so much mischief he worried about his immediate future.
“Emma.” He drew out her name as a warning. “Let me handle this.”
She reined in her smile. “Oh, I am.”
He tipped his head to the side, disbelief no doubt evident on his face.
Hopefully, she was serious and not simply biding her time as she manipulated the situation.
Years had fully acquainted him with her powers of persuasion.
He’d not put it past her to tell him they were going for a drive only to show up to the church, marriage contract in hand and Mr. Clayton ready to perform the wedding to whomever she chose.
His continued stare broke through, and she lost control over her smile. “You don’t believe me?”
“No.” He placed a protective arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the drawing room. “It is safer that way.”
Her laughter rang out as they made their way across the court.
Mr. Lenning and his wife were already seated so they took up places near them as they awaited the others.
When all were assembled, including Mr. Clayton who said he could only stay for dinner to round out the numbers, Emma advised them of their partners for the evening.
Since it was Miss Prudence’s birthday, he would lead her in as the guest of honor.
A pang of disappointment filled him, but then Emma announced that Hamdon would lead Grace in to dinner and her seat would be to Alan’s immediate left.
He bit back a smile. Emma gave the tiniest of nods in his direction. It seemed she didn’t miss anything.
The little meddler. But he loved her for it. Never had there been a more devoted sister. He was lucky to have her on his side.
Dinner was full of the usual chatter made livelier by Miss Prudence’s excitement over being the center of attention.
She exclaimed over every course and thanked him about a hundred times throughout dinner for serving her favorites.
The genius of the menu really belonged to Mrs. Gibbons, but he promised to pass on her thanks to her and Mrs. White, their cook.
Near the end of dinner, all the servants paraded in a cake decorated with a fine white frosting and nuts. Miss Prudence’s eyes widened at the sight. She turned to look at him.
“Is this for me?”
He smiled. “It is an old family tradition from my mother’s family. The cake is yours to share as much or as little as you would like.”
To his surprise, she blinked back tears. “I do not believe I have ever had a cake that is just for me.” Then she took in the room full of people. “But I could never eat so much and would not want others to go without.”
Instinctively, he glanced at Grace, Miss Prudence’s statement reminding him of her generosity.
She smiled back at him and he returned his attention to Miss Prudence.
He’d underestimated the girl, thinking her far too frivolous and impulsive to think of others.
Her statement proved her to be more like her sister than he’d realized.
Mrs. Gibbons came forward with a knife. “You may cut as big of a piece as you like, miss.”
Thatcher set the cake in front of her. With careful precision, she cut out a perfect one-inch triangle piece and slid it onto her plate, the long thin piece taking up nearly the whole of the small plate. Then she held up the slice for everyone to see. The room erupted into applause.
“Let us all eat cake,” she said with a laugh, then set her plate down with a thunk.
Unfortunately, it hit the edge of the knife that still sat on the cake plate, sending the utensil flying end over end behind her and toward the assembled servants. The others gasped as footmen and maids scattered to the left and right, allowing the sharp instrument to land harmlessly on the floor.
Miss Prudence stared in horror, her mouth covered with her hand. Alan leaned forward to look at the knife, then realized he’d not overreacted. His lungs expanded and he let out a satisfied breath.
Then Mr. Lenning chuckled, relieving the tension. “Leave it to Pru to make every moment far more exciting than anyone expected. But next time, try not to kill the very messengers that brought your treat.”
Miss Prudence picked up her fork and pointed it at her brother.
“Careful, Bradley. Lord Gladsby said the cake is mine to share with whomever I wish. If you are not on your best behavior, I might eat your slice as well.” Then she jabbed it into the spongy yellow cake, broke off a piece, and popped the bite into her mouth with a smile.
Mr. Lenning laughed, not at all intimidated by his sister’s threat.
“Take it from me, young man,” Mr. Clayton said. “It is safer not to upset the birthday girl. She might smash a piece of cake onto your trousers.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “I was five and you pretended to take my slice.”
The vicar smiled at her. “As I said, proceed with caution.”
They all chuckled.
Once everyone finished their cake, Alan declared the gentlemen would forgo port for the night so they could stay together with the ladies. Mr. Clayton excused himself, claiming he was too old for late nights and the rest of the party withdrew.
In the drawing room, Mr. Lenning explained their own family tradition of telling stories about the person whose birth they were celebrating and so began a round of stories.
Some were sweet remembrances of Miss Prudence as a little girl, but far more were comical.
Like the time she tried her hand at fishing, only to catch a duck with her hook.
The creature was so frightened it pulled her waist deep into the muddy water before her father jumped in to save her.
Grace leaned over the edge of her seat and whispered, “Poor Pru. Misfortune seems to follow her wherever she goes.”
“I heard that,” Miss Prudence said, eyeing them both and raising a dark brow.
Alan ducked his head to hide his smile and peeked over at Grace.
She bit her lip, her eyes dancing with mirth as she tried to restrain herself. Finally, she said, “Sorry, Pru.”
“No you’re not.”
Grace let out a snort, unable to control her laughter. A snicker escaped Alan.
Miss Prudence battled back a smile as long as she could, then said, “I do get myself into a fair amount of scrapes, don’t I?”
Mrs. Lenning spoke up. “We will never be bored with you around. But there is more to you than your misadventures. You have wit and charm in droves. Why, at fifteen you had more conversational skills than I had at twenty. Enough so that even Mr. Tate complimented your abilities.”
Miss Prudence’s smile faltered, and she took to examining her gloved hands.
He leaned over to Grace and asked, “Who is Mr. Tate?”
Grace glanced at her sister, concern creasing her brow and pulling at her lips.
Mrs. Lenning answered for her. “He is an old suitor of mine. A fine fellow. The only son of Colonel Tate and his second wife.”
With the mention of the gentleman, Miss Prudence seemed to sink further into her seat. He’d never seen her less than exuberant, but Mr. Tate’s name dimmed her spirits considerably. What was the gentleman to her?
Grace cleared her throat. “I have a story I’d like to share.”
Everyone gave her their attention, and Miss Prudence begrudgingly looked up.
Grace hesitated, her gaze flicking to him and for a moment he wondered if she was looking for encouragement. He gave her a gentle smile and nodded his head.
She took a deep breath and began. “This memory is more recent than the rest, but it is still one I treasure. It came about when we were packing our trunks to spend the holiday here at Engalworth.”
Grace fidgeted with the edge of her glove, uncertain why she’d chosen to share the story about Prudence teasing her.
It had just felt right. She tried to play down the parts about Alan, making it seem like Pru was needling her rather than speaking the truth, but somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped that by telling the story he might finally realize he had gained her affection.
It was bold. Far bolder than she’d ever attempted before, but he had said to be brave. So she had been.
“Then I picked up a slipper and tossed it at her. Just as quick she batted it into the trunk then declared it a much more effective way of packing.”
Everyone laughed at the conclusion and Grace finally gained the courage to glance Alan’s way. He did not look away as she thought he might. No. He stared right into her eyes.
He knew. There was no question in her mind. Even omitting the parts that would have made it obvious he still understood that she’d fancied him long before today.
Diana added her part of the story, congratulating Prudence on finding a way to pack the stockings faster. The others chimed in with teasing comments, but Alan still stared at Grace, an intensity in his gaze that warmed her to her toes. Finally, she ducked her head.
More stories followed, but Grace could hardly pay attention. While Alan had turned his attention to the teller of the story, she still sensed every move he made. He sat so close she could reach out and touch him, an urge that had only increased the longer they listened.
Finally, Lady Hamdon rose and the gentlemen followed suit. “I’m afraid I cannot keep my eyes open a moment longer.” Diana moved to stand and Her Ladyship motioned for her to sit. “Do not let me rush you all off.”
Bradley placed a hand on his wife’s back. “You are not. Di has been covering her yawns for a full half hour.”
The others agreed it was late and proceeded to leave. Lady Hamdon stepped through the doorway and stopped, glancing back at the bow that still hung there. Bradley and Diana slipped past her and up the stairs, Prudence close on their heels.
Anthony stopped next to his wife. “What is it?”
She pointed up. “Perhaps it is time to take down the greenery. It seems a bit brown.”
Grace peered up at it from the other side.
Alan stopped halfway through the door and glanced up. “It seems fine to me. I think it should last at least until the new year.”
Silently, Grace agreed and attempted to walk past him.
“Miss Lenning,” Lady Hamdon said in her singsong way.
Instantly, Grace stopped and looked at her in confusion.
Her Ladyship pointed up, a sly smile on her lips.
Grace glanced at Alan. They had been caught… again.
Did she mind? Not in the least.
Giddiness filled her as Alan drew near. His hands clasped her shoulders, but before she could look up, his lips touched her forehead and lingered there. Disappointment filled her, but it did not last.
The way his warm lips reverently pressed against the skin right below her hairline made her feel cherished. He stepped back and his gaze met hers. The same heat she’d seen hours before filled his eyes.
His had not been a thoughtless gesture, but a controlled action.
She smiled.
He sucked in his breath and swiftly turned to his sister.
“Meddler,” he muttered.
“Dolt,” Lady Hamdon tossed back.
Grace covered her laugh, knowing there was no malice behind either of their words. For once, she was grateful for Lady Hamdon’s interference. She was like a good luck charm that kept showing up at just the right times.
What she wouldn’t give to have the woman as a sister-in-law. They would be a force to be reckoned with.