Page 9 of The Misfortunate Miss Farthington
“Is he known for his lively wit?” Tessa’s aunt asked. “I’d heard he was rather sardonic and droll.”
“Yes, well, he can be both, I suppose,” Tessa’s mother relented. “But he provides entertainment, all the same. Not to mention…” She cast a look toward Tessa. “It would have been nice for them to get to know one another before the ball, don’t you think?”
Tessa opened her mouth, ready to remind her mother that she was, in fact, there in the room, and could participate in the conversation regarding a man they hoped for her to marry. And that she would, in fact, very much like a voice in said conversation.
But Daphne stepped into the conversation with the same soothing tone her mother had been using. “It’s all the better then that tonight you’ll be hosting Mr. Grant, isn’t it? Surely his presence will provide the dinner with colorful conversation and amusing discourse.”
Tessa held her breath and stared at her cousin, unsure whether this feeling was awe or horror as she watched Daphne at work.
“What…I…” Tessa’s mother frowned. “Who?”
Daphne’s wide-eyed gaze was all innocence. “Oh, I just assumed…that is…oh, dear me.” She fretted so prettily that Tessa’s father came over and wrapped an arm about her shoulders in comfort.
Tessa swallowed the urge to laugh.
“What is it, dear?” Tessa’s father asked.
“Well, I know how in demand Mr. Grant is with the most popular ladies of thetonat the moment. What with his being a particular favorite of The Duchess of Dabney, I mean. And I thought I’d heard you say he was coming to join us…”
“I never said any such thing,” her mother said.
“Who is Mr. Grant?” her father interrupted.
“We never invited him to dine,” her mother said again.
Daphne glanced at Tessa, and Tessa knew her part as if Daphne had handed her a script. “And what a pity we didn’t think to invite him,” Tessa murmured. “Lady Pickington was just telling me the other day how all of society wishes to have the honor of having Mr. Grant to dine.”
“Do they?” Her mother shared an anxious look with her sister.
“And I just assumed…” Daphne’s voice was high with feigned anxiety. “So, I brought it up to him at the symposium and…ohdear.” She dropped her clasped hands and smiled sweetly. “I do hope I haven’t caused any trouble.”
There was a brief silence during which Tessa resisted the urge to burst into applause at her cousin’s marvelous performance.
“Of course, you didn’t do wrong,” Tessa’s mother said. “We are just as keen to dine with a gentleman of Mr. Grant’s esteem as anyone else in society. Of course, we are.”
“Yes, yes,” her father added hurriedly. “I’d heard his name bandied about, of course. Just didn’t place it at first.”
“But if I’d known I would have made other accommodations, that’s all,” her mother added. “We’d have added more guests to the list.”
Daphne’s mother worried her handkerchief. “He’s not some upstart, is he? What all do we know of this man?”
“Not an upstart,” Tessa said quickly. “He’s the son of Sir Brinewold.”
“Ah, he’s a good man. Getting on in years now, eh?” her father said.
“Oh yes, and Mr. Grant is no young dandy either,” Daphne said in that same soothing tone. “Why he’s an old man himself, I’d say.”
Tessa turned to her cousin with a scowl. “He is not old.”
He wasn’tyoungeither. But the hint of gray at his temples and the faint lines near his eyes made him that much more distinguished. But once again Daphne gave her a quelling look.
Not the time for this battle, dear, that look said.
Tessa sighed. Very well. Her parents would be much more amenable if they thought him a harmless old man and not a handsome man of marriageable age.
Marriage. Was he pondering such a thing? Would he ask to court her?
Nerves made her belly flip flop.
