Her groom helped her into her carriage and a few moments later they were on their way. “We’ll be at the Hall well before daylight, my lady.”
Pulling her cloak around her, Grace turned to Neep. “Thank you. Did any of you eat?”
“Some bread and ham. Good enough ’til we get back.”
Grace nodded and snuggled back against the soft, but cold, squabs, grateful for her cloak and the warm bricks under her feet.
As the coach lurched forward, she gazed out to the window of the inn’s first-floor bedchamber where Worthington slept. The only man she’d ever wanted to love her did, and it was too late. Wishing he still held her in his strong arms, she tried to hold back her tears, yet they slid silently down her cheeks as she cried for what might have been and for what could never be.
A little more than an hour later, they turned into the drive of Stanwood Hall. She wiped away all traces of her sorrow and assumed a bright smile that would hide her misery.
Entering the large, airy Georgian hall, Grace was greeted by her concerned butler, Royston, who took her cloak. A moment later, an explosion of noise as six children, ranging in age from eighteen to five, ran to her. Pandemonium reigned as they poured their concern and fear into her ears.
She should have known they’d panic when she was delayed. “What are you all doing up so early? Here, I haven’t had my breakfast yet. Let me eat and, if you will all quiet down, I can tell you what occurred to delay me.”
They escorted her to the breakfast room.
Eighteen-year-old Charlotte handed her a cup of tea while Walter, age fourteen, piled food on a plate and brought it to her. Alice and Eleanor, twins, age twelve, and Philip, eight, sat around the table staring at her, waiting. Mary, the youngest at five years of age, climbed into Grace’s lap. The only one missing was Charlie, now the Earl of Stanwood, who was at Eton.
“I thought you had gone away like Mama did,” Mary said, her bottom lip trembling.
Grace hugged her sister tightly. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I’m here now.”
After taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea, Grace steeled herself to remain calm as she answered their questions. No one could know anything about Worthington or suspect there was anything wrong. “I was on my way home from Cousin Anne’s when a storm hit. Fortunately, I was close to an inn and able to take refuge. Nothing more exciting than that occurred. Quite a dull trip all in all.” Nothing at all except meeting Worthington and spending the most wonderful night of her life in his arms. “Now, we have three weeks before we leave for London. I expect all of you to behave so that we may get off in good time. Royston”—she turned to her butler—“do I have anything in the post?”
“Yes, my lady. I put it in the study.”
Grace glanced around the table. “Charlotte, I shall meet you there in an hour. If you’ve finished eating, please practice either your singing or the piano until I send for you. The rest of you have lessons.”
They left the table as one and the room became suddenly quiet. Only her cousin Jane, who’d acted as Grace’s companion for the last four years, remained.
Jane gave Grace a concerned frown. “Grace, you look tired. Didn’t you sleep well?”
“Well enough, considering the storm. I suspect when I’ve bathed and re-dressed I’ll look more the thing.”
Her cousin smiled softly. “Of course. That must be it. Have you given any consideration to reentering society yourself? It would be a shame for you to miss all the fun.”
Grace pressed her lips together. She’d not been in London for the Season since her mother died in childbirth along with the baby. “What would be the point? I am not free to marry until Charlie is one and twenty and able to take over the guardianship of the children. That is still five years away. Even then, he will require me to raise them.” She shook her head. “When Mary is ready to come out, if some gentleman is looking for an ape-leader then, I’ll consider it. Until that time, I shall go to teas and entertainments of that sort, but not to balls. You and Aunt Herndon can be gadabouts. She is sponsoring Charlotte and must attend in any event.”
Jane scoffed. “Surely, you will go to Lady Thornhill’s drawing rooms.”
Lady Thornhill had the most interesting gatherings in theton,drawing from artists, writers, and philosophers for her guests. Grace picked up the pot and poured more tea. “Yes, I may do that and perhaps some of the political parties.”
Her cousin rose. “I shall leave you now. I know you have much to do.”
Jane was as kind as she was undemanding. In her late thirties, her blond hair was beginning to show some silver. She’d lost her love at sea and had never been tempted to marry another. Perhaps she would find someone this Season, though that would leave Grace seeking another companion.
A deep bark came from the hall, and a one-year-old Great Dane, towing a footman, bounded into the breakfast room. Finding her mistress, the dog went to Grace and placed its huge head on her arm.
“Good morning, Daisy, did you miss me?” She glanced up at the footman. “Do I want to know how walking lessons are going?”
He grimaced. “We was doing better, my lady, until she heard you.”
Grace patted the dog, stroking her soft ears. “You’ll have to be left behind if you cannot learn to walk on a lead.”
Daisy gave her a sidelong glance and directed her attention to the beef on Grace’s plate.
Grace grinned. She was probably too lenient with the dog. “No. I will not have you eating from the table.”
