Page 25 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Heart pounding, she turned away and asked “Why?”
“Why am I going, or why do you not need to come along?”
Groping her way around a chair and seating herself, it was a moment before she looked up at him and saw the eagerness in his eyes. Her heart stuttered.
“Both, I suppose.”
It seemed a matter of self-defense for her to go along and see what he would find. He’d been with Diddenton. Perhaps they’d arranged for Graeme to “discover” the missing will.
“I visited the solicitor, Fleming after the meeting with Diddenton and viewed the pertinent documents regarding the will and the property matter. I’d like to speak with the Risley Manor steward and visit Bluebelle Lodge.”
That was a gauntlet thrown down. She needed to be there when he went to Bluebelle Lodge.
He stepped closer, took the chair near hers, and leaned in. “If you did wish to accompany me, you may stay at Bluebelle Lodge. That way, Lady Gravelstone need not come along. Though I shall not cast her out either. Nor your brother. I’ll wager Lynford would like some free time in town to sow some wild oats.”
She nodded, hiding her relief. Will could seek out Archie’s old nurse. Lady Hermione could entertain some of her friends here and be pampered by the Chilcombe servants.
It would be good to check on the safety of everyone at Bluebelle Lodge. Would Graeme be shocked by the presence of the children? A problem to be dealt with later. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll have my maid begin packing.”
At the door she turned back to him. They’d planned to attend another society event that night, a ball in St. James Square. “Shall I send our regrets for tonight?”
“I think we ought to go. I’m curious as to who will attend. Let Will and Lady Gravelston know about our journey tomorrow—but not a word to anyone else.”
She suppressed a shudder and nodded. With his spies lurking around Bluebelle Lodge, Diddenton would know soon enough.
Graeme gripped his glass watching her as she left, all the old desires flaming back to life.
Captain Lynford had barged through the door, defending his sister, ready to fight. They’d been out looking at lodgings, and she’d explained why to her brother. Perhaps she’d told Lynford more than Graeme had been able to glean from Fleming’s partner. Fleming was still out of town, but at least he had been able to see the marriage contract, the purported new will submitted by Diddenton, and the original will—which surely was the valid will.
He hadn’t promised she’d have a home just to mollify her brother. Nor because it was the right thing to do, the honorable thing. Whatever she’d done, or, more likely, whatever had been done to her…
He wanted her near him. He wanted to get past this formality, the prickliness, the walls she’d put up. He wanted to know her.
And then what, Graeme?
He’d learned to shake off impossible feelings years ago, and he did so again now. Whatever happened, he’d see her settled in some property or other.
Whether it would be Bluebelle Lodge was uncertain. He remembered the place; remembered calling there with a friend for a lark.
No—not a lark. He’d wanted to see her. Even then…
There’d been other visits after that. Calf love had struck him with full force. That was all it had been, he a lad just starting to grow whiskers, she a young woman ready to make her come out. Though, as he recalled, her guardian hadn’t had money to provide her with a season in London. She was destined to make her curtsy among country society, and he’d dreamed that she’d still be unmarried by the time he was grown.
Around that time, Archie reached his majority, and the maternal grandfather who’d kept a tight leash on him died. He’d been an absent earl since his childhood, but once his grandfather died, he’d hied himself off to Risley Manor, the ancestral home of the Lords Chilcombe, where he’d hosted a grand ball.
And there Archie had met Blythe and seduced her.
Graeme shut his eyes and remembered. She’d been lovely then, but this older, wiser Blythe was lovelier still.
“And a good thing it is that we heeded your command, my lord, and stopped for the night,” Hermione said cheerfully. “I wonder if the road won’t wash out with this rain.”
Outside, the storm had grown into a gale. Blythe lifted a spoonful of the inn’s excellent trifle, while Graeme looked up from his dish. “I do not command ladies,” he said. “I merely offer strong suggestions that take into account your welfare and that of the servants and horses.”
“And your own,” Blythe said. “We did have room for you in the chaise where you would have been dry.”
“If not warm,” Hermione said. “Oh, I’m not complaining. I am glad to make this journey with both of you. You ought to have joined us inside, my lord. Radley’s stories were quite riveting.”
While Blythe had quietly endured the rattling journey, Hermione and Radley chatted nonstop. Hermione shared stories of her happy marriage, and Radley told tales of her time following the drum. Graeme had ridden along outside, one manly buckskin clad leg distracting her far too often. When the rain began pelting him in earnest, he’d decreed they must stop at this out of the way inn. At least the innkeeper’s wife ran a good kitchen.
