Chapter 6
Six
Grant adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as he stepped into the grand dining room at Sinbrough House.
The soft murmur of conversation mingled with the clinking of fine dishes and the delicate strains of a harp from the corner of the room.
The flickering candlelight cast gilded reflections along the crystal and silver, and Grant felt a rare thrill, anticipation more than nervousness, at what the evening might hold.
He had been invited, as had a few other choice guests, to the dinner hosted by the Duchess of Sinbrough.
He was not certain he was looking forward to the dinner itself, but he did hope to spend a good part of the evening in Lady Cocwood’s company.
Their walk in the garden had been enlightening even as it had also been a little too intense at times.
He enjoyed being with her and wanted to be with her if she would allow it. He prayed she would…
He shifted his gaze to immediately seek her out and he found her immediately.
She sat poised near the window with a glass in her hand.
Her expression held a perfect balance of wit and cool elegance.
He could not deny the tug of intrigue he felt toward her.
She had an air of command that drew attention without even trying, and she seemed all too aware of her effect.
Grant, of course, intended to test the limits of that composure.
Before he could approach her, the door opened, and the Duke of Sinbrough entered with his usual air of composed authority.
He was followed closely by the Marquess of Caufield and the Earl of Chaswick.
Grant’s attention, however, remained fixed on Clara.
He noted how her eyes flicked with mild curiosity at each new arrival, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She seemed interested in the new arrivals, and he wasn’t certain how he felt about that.
Surely, she did not have an interest in the earl or marquess…
That would not do at all. It was a challenge he could not resist though.
If he wanted her, he would have to ensure he was the only man she saw or wanted. He could do that.
Lady Lucy Walsh, tall and striking with white blond hair and pale green eyes, was already conversing quietly with Lady Cocwood, her laugh a soft bell against the murmur of the room.
Grant had taken note of the lady’s reputation for being steadfast in her principles, unyielding in her refusal to marry for anything less than love.
A kindred spirit, perhaps, though not a challenge he would pursue.
Yet he knew that having the two women in conversation offered him a prime opportunity to join and assert himself into their circle of conversation.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said as he strolled up to join them.
“Hello Lord Oakwood,” Lady Lucy greeted him. “It’s been an age since you last graced us with your presence. I had not been aware you had returned to England.” He last saw her at her debut ball nearly ten years earlier.
“Did you miss me, Lucy?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Do not be ridiculous,” she chastised him. “You barely crossed my mind all these years. Please tell me you did not believe I carried some ill-conceived notion that I was in love with you.”
“You do not?” He held his hand to his chest. “Lucy, dear, you would me.”
She laughed. “Do not play your games with me Lord Oakwood. No woman holds that sort of power over you. You are far too much of a rogue to have those sorts of feelings.”
Lady Cocwood laughed, and it sent chills through him. The chills of anticipation. He loved that sound. Though he could think of a few other sounds she might make he would like a lot more. Like her moans of pleasure… “I do think we are going to be great friends,” she told Lucy.
“I thought I was your friend,” another lady said as she joined them.
“I can have more than one friend,” Lady Cocwood told the woman.
She turned to Lucy and said, “This is Lady Winslow. He is recently out of mourning and reluctantly agreed to join us tonight.” Lady Cocwood wrinkled her nose.
“She thought I would allow her to become a recluse. A woman as beautiful as she is should not keep herself hidden away.” She turned toward Grant and said, “You agree with me, don’t you? ”
Grant flicked his gaze over the woman. She was indeed a beauty even if it wasn’t in the traditional sense.
She had hair so black it was the color of a midnight sky with no moonlight to illuminate it, and her eyes were so blue they almost appeared violet in the candlelight.
He turned his attention back to Lady Cocwood.
“Who am I to say what the lady should or should not do…” He smiled.
“It is her beauty to share as she pleases.”
“Well said, Lord Oakwood,” Lucy said. “I see you have not lost that legendary charm of yours.”
“You do know me well,” he agreed. They had grown up together as their mothers had been close friends.
It had not escaped him that their mothers had hoped they would make a match.
Perhaps under different circumstances they might have.
They were the same age though and were more friends than would be lovers. He had just never seen her that way…
Lady Cocwood narrowed her gaze and studied them both.
There was something in her eyes he could not quite identify.
Was she jealous of his easy repertoire with Sarah?
Could he use that to his advantage? Perhaps he should not push her into a fit of anything resembling jealousy, but he wanted to know he mattered to her in some way.
Grant allowed himself a quiet thrill, anticipating the subtle war of wits and the delicate dance of proximity he would have with Lady Cocwood.
He had no illusions about her. She would challenge him at every turn, but that made the evening all the more tantalizing.
Beneath his calm exterior, a certain warmth kindled, and a dangerous awareness settled inside of him.
She was a temptation, and Grant knew that even a single slip of her gaze could undo him entirely.
He had to know if she could feel it too and with that a decision was made.
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “I do know you.” Her gaze flicked between Lady Cocwood and him. “But I won’t spill all of your secrets tonight.”
“How kind of you,” he said in a flirtatious tone.
“Are we interrupting,” a man said as the stepped toward them.
“Not at all,” Lady Cocwood said. “Please join us.”
“Hello, Caufield—Chaswick…” Grant greeted the marquess and the earl. “Please meet Lady Winslow and Lady Cocwood.” He motioned toward Lucy. “And you both already know Lady Lucy.”
Chaswick grinned. “I would hope I did know my own sister.”
“Touché,” he said.
The Marquess of Caufield tuned toward Lady Cocwood and smiled. “Sinbrough tells me you his wife’s little sister.”
“The duke doesn’t lie,” Lady Cocwood said as she smiled at him.
“Not anymore at any rate,” the marquess said with a light chuckle. “He’s a changed man.”
“I would hope so,” she replied. “I would hate to have to hurt the duke if he dared to hurt my sister. She only deserves the best. I owe her everything.”
Grant hated that she seemed so enamored with the marquess. She was supposed to be talking to him and exchanging witty barbs. This was not at all going how he had envisioned. He had to do something to turn the conversation back to one between the two of them. How could he make that happen?
Grant’s eyes flicked to Lady Cocwood, noting the subtle tilt of her chin and the sharp glint in her gaze as she conversed with the marquess.
He could feel the pull of her presence, the effortless way she commanded attention, and yet he also knew she was deliberately keeping him at arm’s length.
That defiance—it was like a challenge, and he had never been one to resist a challenge, especially one so exquisitely wrapped in the form of a woman.
Stepping slightly closer, he lowered his voice just enough for her to hear. “I see, Lady Cocwood, that you have quite a talent for monopolizing the conversation.” The words were light, teasing, but beneath them lay a clear intent. He wanted her to notice him again.
Her eyes flicked to him with a quick spark of amusement or was it irritation?
—dancing across her features. “And you, Lord Oakwood, have a talent for stating the obvious,” she shot back, her tone sharp, yet not unkind.
She was testing him, and he smiled inwardly at the familiarity of their verbal fencing.
Grant allowed himself the barest bow, a mock flourish.
“Perhaps. But I assure you, my talents extend far beyond commentary. Though it seems I may need some convincing that you are worth the demonstration.” His gaze lingered on her just long enough for the heat in her cheeks to betray her composure.
He had her attention where he wanted it again—on him.
Now he just needed to separate her from the crowd that had gathered and spend a little time alone with her.
He was not certain how he would achieve that goal yet, but he would.
Lady Cocwood arched a brow, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. “Convince me, Lord Oakwood that it is you that is worth the effort and perhaps we might find some common ground. Though I do believe that would be no small task. Even for a man of your considerable charms…”
A low, quiet thrill coursed through him.
This was the dance he had been anticipating, the careful balance between charm and restraint.
He knew that a misstep could undo everything, yet the danger of her sharp wit only made the engagement more intoxicating.
“I do enjoy a challenge,” he murmured, letting his gaze sweep over her as if appraising her entirely.
Her poise, the way she stood with such quiet authority, the flashes of fire that lit her eyes when she spoke.
..he wanted to revel in it. “Especially when the challenge is as…compelling as this.” He lowered his tone a fraction.
“When it is you, I find it irresistible.”
For a brief instant, her composure faltered, and he saw the subtle flash of curiosity behind her guarded expression. It was enough. It was the opening he needed. “Perhaps, Lady Cocwood, you might allow me the honor of proving that my talents are not merely idle boasts.”
She narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I shall have no choice but to redouble my efforts,” he replied smoothly, his voice low, deliberate, each word weighted with intent.
The subtle promise in his tone did not go unnoticed, and he saw her fingers tighten around the teacup she held, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
“I promise you that it would be a night you would not soon forget.”
He could feel the tension in the air, the subtle tug between them, a magnetic pull neither wanted to admit. Grant knew he had to tread carefully—push too hard and he would risk angering her, pull back too much and the moment would slip.
“Very well, Lord Oakwood. You have piqued my interest,” she said finally, her voice softening just enough to betray the faintest trace of acknowledgment. “I maybe be willing to be convinced to see what your talents are worth… though I expect nothing less than arrogance and irritation.”
He allowed a slow, private smile, savoring the tiny victory. “Then perhaps, Lady Cocwood, we are perfectly matched.”
And in that small, charged exchange, Grant understood that this was only the beginning. He would not be denied—not by society, not by circumstance, and certainly not by her.
A slow smile formed on her lips. “That is yet to be determined, my lord. But I must put this conversation on pause until a later time. We have a dinner to attend.” She winked.
“But rest assured, I am keeping what you have said in mind. I do want to see if you can live up to my weighty expectations.” With that she turned and walked away heading toward the dining room.
The rest of their party had left before their little flirtation had taken a turn to the sinful.
He had not even noticed he had been that enwrapped in her…
She had too much of a pull on him for him to lose all sense like that, but he could not regret it.
He wanted her. He would have her, and he hoped he would also be able to keep her.
Forever had never sounded to right to him before.
All he had to do was convince her of that and he would have everything.