Chapter Eight #3
‘Not all. Not yet. We spent time sorting through it, but it…’ his throat bobbed ‘…it is a lot to take in. There are scraps of letters he started writing with scribbled notes made at a later date that seem to have nothing to do with the writing at the top of the paper. Ledgers and financial documents. We have been trying to put it into an order, but it is difficult when he rarely dated anything. But to be able to read his thoughts, to see that he thought of us enough to at least start penning letters, that is worth more to us than all the gold in England. I owe you a debt of gratitude for keeping it safe and delivering it to us. I am sure that it cannot have been easy and if there is ever anything you want or need, then do not hesitate to ask it of one of us.’ He paused.
‘After you left, it occurred to me that there must be more to your story. Quite a lot more. I should be grateful if you would share it with us.’
Her heart twisted painfully. It was true that there was a great deal more to be said, but it was also true that what else she had to reveal would be painful, especially for her.
But for everyone’s sake, she would have to do so.
‘Yes, there is more I need to tell you, but I would prefer to say it in privacy.’
He nodded again, thoughtful. ‘There is only one pressing thing I need to know. Is Charlotte in danger?’
She liked that his first thought was for their shared niece.
The family’s care of Charlotte was what she had hoped for when she had left the most precious person in the world to her to the Dashworths.
At the time, she would have settled for safe and away from America, but she was glad that they appeared to adore her as much as she did.
‘I believe her to be safe, yes.’
‘But you are not sure.’
‘As sure as I can be with four fearsome uncles looking after her.’ She was certain Sebastian had considered that when he had created the terms of his will. It would take a lot to get past the four towering men, even if one did not count the sheer scale of Glanmore House.
‘Fearsome.’ He raised an eyebrow, a glint of humour shining in his eyes. ‘I do not think a man who was nearly drowned by a woman half his size could be much of a threat to anyone.’
Something in his teasing tone caused her heart to flutter, like the wings of a bird beating against her ribcage.
‘Goodness, are you going to accuse me of this every time we meet? I thought we had both agreed never to speak of it again.’ For her part she was trying not to remember how his wet shirt had clung to his chest after his unexpected dive beneath the surface of the water.
No good could come from thinking about it all the time, even if the image of his muscled chest clearly outlined underneath the wet fabric popped into her mind at random intervals several times a day.
‘Ah yes, we did agree on that.’ He paused, turning to look at the dancers twirling about the floor. ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘Are you safe?’
‘I…’ Since Clare had died, not a single soul had cared for Grace. A lump formed in her throat, the size of a boulder. Ridiculous really, because his question hadn’t been that deep. ‘I…’
But it was no use. The words would not come.
‘I mean it. If there is anything I can do,’ the duke said, when it was clear she could not answer his question, ‘you need only ask.’
She nodded.
‘Perhaps you could speak with Emily or Kate and arrange a time to call on us at your convenience. I should like to find out more about Sebastian’s life abroad and I am sure you must be very keen to see Lotte.’
‘Lotte?’ she croaked.
‘Charlotte. We call her Lotte.’
Grace nodded, her heart hurting for reasons she did not understand. ‘Yes, I want to see Charlotte. I am desperate for it, in fact.’
‘Then I will instruct Emily to make sure it happens as soon as it can be arranged. Is tomorrow agreeable?’
‘If it would not cause an almighty scandal, I would leave now to see her.’
‘Hm.’ Grace could not tell whether his expression was a grimace or a smile.
For a long moment, his fingers tapped his leg.
‘On that note, I feel I should warn you that my family is…’ He paused, straightening the cuffs of his jacket.
‘My brothers are all recently wed and are desirous of me following into, what they see as, the same happy union. For reasons that are unclear to me, they seem to have set their sights on you as a suitable candidate. Having seen their previous attempts at matchmaking, I believe they may be a little heavy-handed. I wanted it to be clear between us that I have no intention of marrying someone my family picks out. If I marry at all, it shall be someone of my choosing. I should be grateful if you could ignore anything they attempt in this regard.’
Goodness, but this man was giving her a headache.
One minute it appeared he needed rescuing.
The next he was showing her care and kindness she had not experienced in years.
Yet, the very next he was insulting her by suggesting she was hankering to become a duchess.
Of all the things she had heard, that had to be the worst. A familiar burst of anger seized her and before she could talk herself into being more polite, she said, ‘It is exceedingly arrogant of you to assume that I would be interested in receiving such a proposal.’ He opened his mouth to respond, but she did not wait for him to speak.
‘I was married once before and being talked into it was the worst mistake I ever made, and I can assure you that I have made many in my lifetime. I will never marry again, not even if the future of the world depended on it. Now, if you will excuse me, I see Lord Thomas is looking for me. We are to dance the quadrille.’ With that, she swept off, and by the time she checked doors to the terrace much later, he was gone.