She blinked a few times. “Yes, my love. Grace, I’ll see you this evening.”
There was much too much to accomplish before dinner for Grace to allow Worthington to disturb her so greatly. She gave herself a shake. Surely their meeting earlier was an aberration.
A half an hour later, she, Bolton, and May took the town coach to Stanwood House. Once they were settled and she had met with the chef, Grace sallied out to Bond Street followed by Harold to exchange the ribbon. She stepped out of the haberdasher’s, then stopped. Worthington was across the street engaged in conversation with another gentleman. For a moment, she stood, frozen to the pavement.
He stopped speaking, and as if he could sense her presence, turned. The next thing she knew he had stepped purposefully into the busy street. A coach driver shouted, bringing his vehicle to a halt, and blocked her view of him.
This could not be happening. She was not prepared to speak to him. Not yet. Possibly not ever. “Harold, oh my, look at the time, we must return home immediately.”
She hurriedly turned down a little-used alley leading to Bruton Street.
The footman trotted to catch up to her. “My lady, why are we going this way?”
Grace faced straight ahead. “This was the shortcut, was it not? Ah, see, here is Bruton Street now, so much quicker than the other way.”
She stared straight ahead, not slowing to see if Worthington was following.
After striding swiftly down the pavement, passing a group of ladies, she slowed her pace and continued on calmly down the street until they came to the crossroad leading back to Berkeley Square.
As soon as she attained her room, Grace took off her hat and fell into a chair. Her heart was pounding, again. She was going to have apoplexy at this rate. How the deuce was she to avoid him for the rest of the Season?
* * *
Matt and his friend Rutherford had emerged from Jackson’s Boxing Salon and stood on Bond Street talking when his neck began to tingle. He turned and saw a lady with a poke bonnet and blue ribbons. The same color ribbon as her eyes, how did he know that? It was also the same blue as the trim on the bonnet he’d seen earlier. He’d wished he’d seen his lady in the daylight. Still the female’s height appeared right. She wouldn’t get away from him this time. “Rutherford, I must go. I’ll see you this evening.”
Rutherford raised his brows. “Yes, of course, see you then.”
Dodging carriages and carts, Matt strode rapidly across the street, but when he’d reached the other side, she was gone.
Where the devil did she go? It was like trying to find a phantom.
Chapter Eight
Grace smiled with pride as Charlotte pirouetted for her sister. “Very pretty indeed.”
Charlotte beamed. “I’m so glad we went to Madame’s. This gown and all the others are so lovely. You look beautiful.”
“This is your evening, my dear. I am merely a chaperone.”
“But . . .”
“No, no.” Grace shook her head. “No arguing.”
This evening was Lady Bellamny’s soirée for the young ladies making their come outs. Charlotte would be one of the most beautiful young ladies of the Season. Her pale yellow muslin evening gown, embroidered with small butterflies in green, blue, and gold, was perfect.
Grace clasped a single strand of matched pearls around her sister’s neck and handed Charlotte a pair of small pearl earrings suspended on gold wire. It was hard to believe she was already making her come out.
If only Mama and Papa were here to see it. They would have been so proud of Charlotte. Tears pricked Grace’s eyes.Silly goose. She was not going to cry.
A spangled shawl, delicate brisé fan, and a reticule completed her sister’s ensemble. “Come, we do not want to be late. We must fetch our aunt before dinner with Lady Evesham.”
A short carriage ride later brought them to Herndon House where they joined Aunt Almeria in the drawing room.
She studied Charlotte, then nodded approvingly. “Well, you two will certainly do me credit.”
Charlotte would. Grace wished her aunt would give up including her in the husband hunt. “Thank you, Aunt. Shall we walk or take my town coach?”
Aunt Almeria’s brows drew together in thought. “It’s always tempting to stroll. Dunwood House is not so very far, but one would not want to walk across the square in evening slippers. They become ruined so easily.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I have decided not to attend with you.”
