The rest of the children arrived and were given glasses of lemonade, while he and Grace had wine. They were remarkably well behaved. More so than his younger sisters. Even little Mary seemed to know how to go on.
She came to sit next to him on the sofa Grace had led him to. “We’re glad you’re here.”
His heart tugged, and he gently pulled one of her braids. “I’m glad to be here too.”
Bringing a chair closer to the sofa, Walter sat. “Sir, will you teach me more about boxing?”
Matt glanced at Grace, who gave what appeared to be a resigned shrug. He might have to go a little slowly when it came to teaching the boys the masculine arts. “If Grace doesn’t mind.”
“I am sure she doesn’t. Do you, Grace?”
She’d been taking a sip of wine and lowered her glass. “Not at all. I suppose if Papa would have lived, he would have instructed you as he did Charlie.”
Walter went off to tell Philip, and Matt glanced at his love. “If you don’t want me to . . .”
Shaking her head, Grace sighed. “No, you were right. They need a gentleman to teach them how to go on. Though I don’t approve of fisticuffs, I do realize it is one of those sports which gentlemen enjoy.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your faith in me.”
She pulled her full bottom lip between her teeth. Ah, maybe not so much trust yet, and possibly a reluctance to give up full control of her brothers and sisters. After all, they had been her entire life for the last few years.
Royston announced dinner, and Matt escorted Grace to the dining room, taking his place on her left. As he finished each course, he couldn’t remember when he’d had such a tasty meal. They dined onsoupe à l’oignon,followed by poached salmon, lobster en croûte, and roasted guinea-fowl. He did justice to all the dishes. The removes included French beans and peas tossed with a butter-thyme sauce, escalloped carrots and leeks, and pureed potatoes. He wondered if his cook could do half as well and gave up the thought. Not that he’d ever faulted Patience for it, but she was not the housewife Grace was. Various creams, jam tarts, grapes, and cheeses made up the last course.
Matt leaned toward Grace. “The chef is staying with us.”
Until then, Grace had been very quiet, responding only when addressed. Now she smiled. “Jacques is very good. He is a cousin of Phoebe’s chef. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Phoebe and Marcus are joining us for tea.”
“Excellent. We’ll be able to tell them our plans.” With any luck, Matt would be able to enlist their support for an earlier wedding.
Straight after dinner, other than Charlotte, the children were sent up to the nursery. Tallerton and Winters went with them. Worthington raised a brow to Grace.
“Charlotte is not a little girl anymore. She will be at all the entertainments and, if our story is to be believed, she’ll need to know it and know how to respond to the questions she is sure to receive.”
He groaned. “Louisa as well?”
“Yes, of course.” Grace gave him a slightly exasperated look. “Your sister will be in the same position as mine. I do wish she was present as well. I’ll ask Charlotte to tell her whatever plan we come up with.”
Not wanting to drink port in solitary splendor, he accompanied the ladies into the drawing room. Jane and Charlotte took chairs next to the fireplace. Grace strolled over to the long French windows at the other end of the room.
He stood behind her. His body crackled in anticipation, and he wondered what would happen if he touched her. Lifting a hand, he twisted one of her curls around his finger. A quiver ran down her back. He whispered, “Grace?”
She leaned back a little and her chin rose, giving him a perfect view of her slender neck. He traced her jawline with the pad of his thumb. She swallowed and the pulse at the base of her neck jumped.
A brief glance over his shoulder assured him Jane and Charlotte were deep in discussion. He lightly drew his thumb down her neck over the gold chain she wore and caressed the creamy mounds of her breasts. Her nipples were already hard when he touched them.
Bending his head, Matt blew on her ear. “Grace?”
“Matt, you promised.”
“I promised not to make love to you. I didn’t promise not to try to encourage you to make love to me.”
Grace turned suddenly, her breasts brushed his chest. When her eyes lifted to his, instead of glowing with the desire he expected to see, they pleaded with him.
“Please don’t do this. You know I’ve agreed to marry you.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
What a dolt he was. He’d wanted to ease her burdens, and, instead, he was adding to them. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, please?”
“This isn’t easy for me either.”
