Page 23 of The Marquess's Imperfect Brid
“Darling sisters, the two of you are the lights of this room,” he said, kissing them both on the cheek before bowing to Millicent. “And you are so closely matched to them that the room seems that it could never be dark again.”
Millicent giggled, and Grace thought she detected a touch of flirtation in his charm. “Would you beautiful ladies care to join Lord Hayewood and me in a game of whist?”
Grace hesitated, glancing at the marquess once more. She wanted to accept, but after the encounter with Lady Cecilia, she was reluctant to give her, and women like her, more reason to taunt her. The marquess studied her, seeming to read her uncertainty. His smile widened and he gave her a nod of silent encouragement. And when the other two women nodded with eagerness and a sparkle in Millicent’s eye, Grace braced herself and smiled.
“That would be wonderful,” she said, determined to prove that she was so much more than the abnormalities which set her apart from everyone else.
Anne smiled, giving the other two women a knowing wink.
“I will excuse myself now,” she said. “My friend Donnya is here, and I have been dying to speak with her all evening.”
Grace nodded, kissing her sister’s cheek before she turnedand walked away. The rest of the group made their way to a table which had already been selected by Neil. The cards were lain as they should be for the players, and everyone took their seat at the table.
Grace was seated by Lord Hayewood, while Millicent sat beside Neil. The game began, and soon enough, Grace found herself exchanging cards with the marquess. As she withdrew her hand, his fingers brushed against it. Her heart leapt into her throat, racing like a wild horse and leaving her feeling lightheaded. The marquess also seemed a little discomposed by the touch, and it took him a moment to clear his throat and speak.
“Lady Grace, it seems that you have a fair sense for this game,” he said, gesturing to the trick she had played before their exchange. “I would believe you had been playing since birth, if you told me that.”
Grace smiled shyly. She was not accustomed to the praise she kept receiving from the marquess. It gave her courage and raised her spirits, something which she would not have thought possible after the mean attempt by Lady Cecilia to humiliate her. She smiled at her game partner sweetly, feeling confident enough to jest with him.
“Well, of course I have,” she said with a giggle. “Do you mean to tell me that you have not?”
To her delight, the marquess laughed. Then, he caught himself, putting on a mask of exaggerated shame and horror.
“Oh, heavens, how I have been caught unaware,” he said. “I shall lock myself away in my chambers until I have rectified my terrible lack of preparedness.”
Grace laughed, as did Lord Hayewood. It was as if it were the funniest moment of their lives, and Grace relished it.
Across from them, Millicent and Neil were whispering to one another, casting conspiratorial glances at Grace and themarquess and sharing meaningful glances. Grace reveled in the sense of fellowship and belonging. It was a joy in which she could have basked forever.
Chapter Thirteen
For the first time in as long as she could remember during a social event, Grace lost track of time. Even when her sister and her dear friend managed to distract her from the stares and whispers around her with delightful conversations about charity work and animals, Grace always found herself watching the clock and waiting for the time when she could rush away to the security of her chambers. Even Neil’s warmth and doting protection of her feelings during parties did little to keep her from counting the minutes until each event ended.
That evening, however, her father announced the end of the evening’s festivities far too soon for Grace’s liking. The time she had spent with Lord Hayewood had been a wonderful treat the likes of which she had not ever experienced. Even before her disfiguring accident, she could not recall a time when she had enjoyed herself so much outside the company of those she loved most dearly. Yet hours with him had passed like mere moments. And her heart was still flitting about in her chest as if carried by clouds from the brief contact with the marquess, even as she joined her family in bidding all their guests a good night and safe journeys home.
When at last she was alone in her chambers, waiting for Juliet to help her dress for bed, her mind swirled with thoughts of the handsome, gentle marquess. She had carefully exhibited fortitude with her thoughts, determined not to let her imagination run away with her as the evening and her time with Lord Hayewood had progressed. But in the silence of his absence and the solitude of her chambers, she could not deny that she was hopelessly attracted to him.
He had proven to be just as warm and compassionate as shehad first found him to be. There was nothing about him that seemed forced or false, which was as intriguing as his exquisitely handsome features. And the way his gaze and gentle touch made her feel warm from scalp to toes was all too evident to her. Even Millicent seemed to believe that he was showing a special interest in her, beyond that of a gentleman who encountered her at a party that was being hosted by her own family. She was not sure if she could allow herself to hope there was truth to Millicent’s claims. But she could not deny the delight that such a prospect stirred within her.
But what about Lady Cecilia? She thought with a falling heart. Lady Cecilia was indisputably beautiful, and even Millicent had remarked on how she seemed to have taken an interest in Lord Hayewood. Grace understood very well why, as it was likely the same reasons that her own heart skipped when she was near the marquess. What she could not understand was the strange, ambitious glint in the young lady’s eyes when she looked at the marquess.
She sighed, shaking her head as she selected a white nightgown. The odd lights in the eyes of any young lady were immaterial to her. As were her indulgent fantasies of a world in which an attractive, gracious marquess could ever truly enjoy her company. And besides, it was not her place to judge who looked at whom, or in what way. The people of the ton judged her, and unfairly at that. Who was she to pass judgment on anyone else? And what gave her the right to worry about the company that someone else kept? She might have taken an interest in Lord Hayewood. But he would never be interested in her. That was all she needed to know.
***
The ride home from the dinner party was a silent one. The duke seemed pleased with himself, staring out the window ofthe carriage with a smug smile on his face. The duchess seemed lost in dreamy thoughts, and Gareth could only imagine the conversation that his mother would have with her good friend, the countess. He envisioned his mother assuring Lady Birington that Gareth would come to his senses and see that Lady Cecilia was the perfect match for him. The countess would likely preen, just as her husband had, smiling knowingly and repeating the same tired qualities that she wanted everyone to believe that her daughter possessed.
Then, they would discuss the wedding plans as though the betrothal were already a certainty. Lady Cecilia might even chime in with her own ideas for her wedding dress and sighing happily at the thought of becoming a marchioness and later, after the current reigning duke passed on, the new duchess of Darendale.
Perhaps, I should have simply stayed away, Gareth thought, lamenting his return to London. I could have returned when I found a bride that pleased me, perhaps already married so that Mother and Father would be forced to accept my decisions for my own life.
But as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his aunt’s manor, it was not a foreign bride of whom Gareth thought. It was Lady Grace, and the radiant smile she had had earlier that day when speaking about her love for music and the orphanage. He did not understand why a woman such as Lady Cecilia could ever be viewed as a better candidate for a future duchess over a young lady who was as kind and passionate about serving others as Lady Grace was. Part of being a duchess was notable charity work, after all.
Most nobility saw such endeavors as necessary evils. But Lady Grace truly loved her work with the less fortunate, and she clearly doted on children, despite them not being her own. He could only imagine what kind of mother she would be to theoffspring she herself bore. But then, why would Lady Cecilia ever need to worry herself about being a loving mother when society made it so that mothers hardly ever had to interact with their children? There were nursemaids, nannies and governesses for such tasks. As long as the children were raised to be proper and conforming, any woman could be viewed as a spectacular mother. The thought sickened Gareth, and he absently rubbed his temple with his fingertips.
The flames flickering in the fireplace of the library should have been comforting. But they only showed him a brilliant light, the likes of which he felt would never brighten his world. As long as his parents ruled over what his future would be, there could be nothing but empty darkness. He should be joyful, since he had found a woman worthy of the growing feelings within him. But he felt nothing other than torn and burdened. Would there truly never be any comfort for him?
“Brother,” Thomas said from the doorway.
