Chapter Twenty Three #2
“Ought to take your wife to task, then,” Uncle Chris suggested mildly. “She’s the one what’s been takin’ bets upon them.”
“Emma?”
“Now, Rafe, it was all in good fun—”
Grace chuckled over the rim of her glass.
These were the moments she loved best; everyone together with reason to celebrate some new milestone.
There had been so many over the years, and no doubt there would be many more.
And how lovely it was, to be a part of so many lives, to be a part of something that felt greater than only herself.
So many stories forming an intricate tapestry of lives and love and happiness.
Her own threads were woven there too, deftly tucked within the fabric of the family she had been lucky enough to call her own. Someday her own love story would bloom within it—and everyone would be just as delighted for her as they were now for Danny and Hannah.
“Budge up,” Uncle Chris said to Felicity, who occupied the seat next to Grace. “Got some business with Gracie.”
“Oh?” Felicity asked, though, obligingly, she scooted herself to the side, producing a wedge of couch hardly large enough to accommodate him. “What business is that?”
“Personal,” he said. “Some time ago, Gracie asked a favor of me.”
Oh, no. “Uncle Chris, can it not wait?”
“’Fraid not,” he said, slinging himself into the seat that had been made for him. “You knew you’d have to pay the piper sometime. Don’t do nothin’ for free.”
Grace sighed and drained the last of her champagne. “How much?” She had got quite a bit of pin money left still, but she was hardly in the mood to go in search of it.
“Five minutes,” he said, with a nod of his head toward the drawing room door. “Fer him.”
Grace turned her head to see Henry standing there just inside, his hands flexing at his sides uncertainly, wincing at the aggravation of the bruised and bloodied knuckles of his right hand.
He had the look of a man who knew he’d entered enemy territory, uncomfortably aware that he had been in mortal peril from the moment he’d entered the house.
Tansy wound about his legs as he stood stock-still there beside the door, leaving a swatch of grey fur upon his dark trousers as she pleaded for his attention in sweet, plaintive mews.
No one had paid him any mind at first, owing to the sheer number of people present, moving from room to room, laughing and chatting. There had been no reason to take note of him; not when there was champagne to be drunk, merriment to be had, and well-intended teasing to be done.
But now he was noticed, and the volume dropped steadily until, person by person, all eyes turned toward him. Some with curiosity, some with dismay. Some with open dislike.
Felicity coughed into the cup of her hand, muttering, “Pigeon-livered arse-licker,” a touch too loudly as she did.
Henry had heard, of course, his dark brows drawing. And still he risked another few steps into the crowd of people who plainly resented his presence. Said, “I understand congratulations are in order,” and extended his hand to Danny.
Pleasant to the last. Clinging to those polite rituals to which he had long been accustomed, despite the fact that he must be painfully aware by now that they would gain him nothing here.
Still, Grace supposed, there was a sort of courage in it.
To have set foot again within her home after having been ejected from it once already.
Danny must’ve thought so, too. “Hell,” he said, as he lifted himself from his position beside Hannah.
“You’re an odd one, Lockhart,” he said as he shook the hand Henry had extended to him.
“But damned if I can’t respect the audacity of it.
Someone get the bloke a glass of champagne; he looks in dire need of it. ”
Yes, he did, rather, though Grace suspected he was more than a little suspicious of the glass that found its way into his hand.
He stared down at the liquid within for a moment or two as though it might well contain some sort of poison—and then she supposed he must have decided he didn’t care if it did, for he gave a little shrug of his shoulders and drank it down.
Conversation resumed in fits and starts, the volume gradually rising. Henry, to his credit, seemed to sense he was meant to stay where he was until he had been granted permission to approach, and so he stood awkwardly near the center of the room, alone.
“Five minutes, you said,” Grace said to Uncle Chris, beneath her breath.
“Only that,” he replied. “What he does with them is his concern.” A cheeky grin played about his mouth. “I didn’t promise privacy. I didn’t even promise ye’d listen.”
Grace sipped her champagne slowly. “Why?” she asked.
“If ye must know, I felt sorry for ‘im,” Uncle Chris sighed. “He’s ‘ad a time just lately, yes? And not a good one. Bound to make a man go a bit mad, the prospect of losin’ everything what ought to be ‘is.” He nudged her shoulder. “Though I suspect ye got somethin’ up yer sleeve there, since ye didn’t ask more assistance o’ me. ”
“Your assistance comes with conditions,” she said lightly. “I would have, though, if it had come to it.” It was just that Uncle Chris’ assistance occasionally lacked subtlety, and it was always best to manage certain matters with as much delicacy as possible.
“Thought so.” He cast one arm over the back of the couch. “’E impressed me tonight,” he said, “and that’s not easily done.”
“What,” Grace asked, with a roll of her eyes, “because he plowed his fist into Lord Latimer’s face until he had to be pulled off of him?”
“No,” Uncle Chris said, “though I do admit it was satisfying as ‘ell to watch.” He offered her a wry grin. “’E impressed me,” he said, “because I offered him a choice. Told ‘im I’d help with one of ‘is problems—just one. And ‘e chose you. No hesitation at all.”
Grace felt her brow furrow. “Probably he’s spoken with his mother,” she said. “She knows everything.”
“I’d wager my fortune he hasn’t,” Uncle Chris said.
“Said yer little scheme had come to naught. That in short order he wouldn’t have much to offer.
But he still chose you over all. So I thought, where’s the harm in five minutes?
Either ‘e redeems ‘imself, or he don’t.” A shrug, as if it mattered little to him one way or another.
Grace’s champagne had run dry, and she considered her empty glass, wondering if the drink were in any way responsible for the unsettled feeling in her stomach. She lifted her eyes to Henry, still alone there in the center of the room, notably excluded from the conversations taking place around him.
He had earned the general apathy he received from her family, but he bore up beneath it stoically as he stooped to a crouch to give his attention to the only creature in the room that would presently acknowledge him—Tansy.
Her unfaithful cat had taken a liking to him.
Tansy, who liked no one else, purred beneath the gentle scratches of Henry’s fingers beneath her chin.
And he had taken a liking to her, too. The tiniest hint of a smile curled at the corner of his lips as he said something, low and soft, that Grace couldn’t hear.
But which had looked rather like, Good evening, Tansy. I’ve missed you.
“All right,” she sighed. “Five minutes.”
“Oi, Lockhart.” Uncle Chris lifted his hand, made a beckoning gesture with his fingers as he stood. “’Ave my seat, then.” He clapped Henry on the shoulder as he made his approach. “Five minutes,” he said. “Make good use of ‘em. Ye’ll be thrown out on yer arse at the end if Gracie says so.”
Felicity rose to her feet as well, rendering the couch somewhat less crowded than it had been. “Don’t mind me,” she said, with only the slightest sliver of menace in her voice. “I’m going to fetch Ian’s pocket watch.”
As Henry settled onto the couch beside her, there was a curious whistling sound. Henry uttered a low curse as a dried pea struck him in the forehead and tumbled into his lap.
Grace swallowed a snicker. “They’re just children,” she said.
“It wasn’t a child,” he muttered.
“How could you know that?”
“Because the little devils went scampering off minutes ago, and there’s not a child in sight.
And,” he said, with a disconsolate sigh, “it’s not the first time I’ve been struck this evening.
Someone brought one of those damned peashooters to the St. John ball.
” He had a sort of hangdog look about him, as if he had resigned himself to the unhappy role of victim of such pranks, at least for the foreseeable future.
Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he clasped his hands before him and said, “So. Your cousins are getting married.”
“Not for a while yet,” Grace said. “Aunt Emma is insisting upon a midwinter wedding, and a proper engagement. And she usually gets her way.”
“They’re rather young,” Henry said. “And wasn’t it only weeks ago that Danny had to be prodded into asking Hannah to dance?”
“They are young,” Grace acknowledged. “But they’ve known each other half of their lives.
Hannah has loved him for years, and Danny has loved her just the same.
But he was so afraid, I think, to ruin his most treasured friendship with love that he let himself forget something terribly important for a while. ”
“Which is?”
“You can have both.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “The one doesn’t ruin the other; it enhances it. Really, they’re very lucky, to have sorted out their feelings for one another so swiftly.”
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose they are.”
“You’ve four minutes left.”
His head swiveled toward her. “How can you tell?”
“Because half of my family has located their pocket watches, and Mercy’s just held up four fingers to show me. Will you waste the rest in small talk?”
“No,” he said, ducking his head. “It’s…difficult to speak of certain things when one has got an audience. Anyone could be listening.”
“Oh, they are,” she assured him. “My family is unbearably nosy. Everyone’s in everyone else’s business all the time.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You sound as if you enjoy it.”
“I love it. They care. All of them, genuinely.” And Uncle Chris would not have placed her in this position if he hadn’t thought it would be to her benefit, she reminded herself. Those five minutes he’d asked of her—they hadn’t truly been for Henry.
They’d been for her.
Grace folded her hands in her lap. “Attacking Latimer was not well done of you,” she said. “You must’ve known it would reflect poorly upon you.”
“It did,” he said. “I suspect I’ll not be welcome within any number of households for a good long while. Although,” he added, “in the coming days, most likely I’ll be considered unsuitable as a guest anyway.”
So he truly didn’t know, then. “You’ve not spoken with your mother lately, have you?”
His brows pinched into a quizzical frown. “I haven’t much had the time,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” He’d find out soon enough anyway, she supposed. “Why did you attack Latimer?”
He turned his face away, directing his gaze to his knees. “He said…certain things of you,” he offered hesitantly. “Things I’d rather not repeat in your hearing.”
“What is the difference? I’ve heard them all anyway.” But it warmed her heart, just a little, that he’d thought to defend her honor.
“But I don’t want to say them. I don’t want anyone else to say them of you.” His knuckles flexed, as if the very thought made him want to dive straight back into a brawl.
“Two minutes,” she said lightly, and lifted her hand to gesture for another glass of champagne.
“Hell,” Henry muttered. “I can’t say everything I’ve got to say in two minutes.
” A moment passed in utter silence, time ticking away from him as he braced his hands upon his knees and straightened his shoulders.
“I couldn’t have done it in five, even if I hadn’t wasted three.
So instead—instead I will challenge you to a game of cards. ”