Some of Grace’s dark mood lifted at Sarah’s comment, which was no doubt what her lady’s maid had intended.
The house Grace was renting in Portman Square was well-appointed, but there was little within its walls to keep her occupied. The small library was empty of books, she had no one to whom she could write letters, and even if she had been a passable artist, there were no art supplies. She was wandering around the almost emptyrooms for the fourth time, almost regretting her impulse to remain without company for the day, when Parker found her.
‘I know you said you were not at home, but…’ Her butler’s eyes were tight, strained almost. ‘I am not sure if I am allowed to refuse…’ He cleared his throat, a tinge of pink crossing his cheeks, possibly because his normally stoic butler persona had crumbled slightly. Grace was inordinately fond of the man, who was taking his first post as a butler very seriously. He would no doubt be horrified by her affection and so she kept it deeply hidden, treating him with the same formal dignity he afforded her. He straightened his shoulders. ‘His Grace, the Duke of Glanmore, is enquiring as to whether you are available for a ride in the park. He is currently outside, walking his horses.’
‘Oh.’ Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she was frozen, her hand half raised. This was unexpected. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Parker’s brow furrowed. ‘I mean, you are right. I am not sure I can refuse.’
Grace hadn’t been in English Society for long, but she knew that dukes were afforded almost a royal-like status. A lot of them were related to the royal family. Surely it could not be illegal to refuse a duke your company, but it was probably very bad form. Although that was not what had her bounding up her stairs to check her reflection. Whether it was bad form or not was entirely irrelevant in the circumstances. As much as she might try and deny it to herself, she was almost desperate to know why he was calling for her. Obviously, it would have something to do with Charlotte, or her parents, or Sebastian. He wouldn’t be visiting to see her and of course she didn’t want him to be.
In their dealings, they had crossed swords as many times as they had been in accord. She had to admit that both were enjoyable.Arguing with a man, especially one as powerful as him, should be something she avoided at all costs. Her marriage had been full of her husband’s never-ending stream of diatribes towards her; he had picked at her, constantly trying to drain her of spirit. Yet, fighting with the duke was nothing like that. She felt that he did not want her to back down, that he liked it when she stood up to him, even when his dark eyes burned with frustration. There were layers to him, layers that she wanted to peel away, to find what lay beneath his stern façade, though perhaps she should leave it well enough alone. Involving herself deeper with any man, albeit as a friend, was something she had sworn to avoid.
By the time she was walking down her front steps to greet him, her heart was fluttering wildly.
Standing next to a handsome phaeton, drawn by two exquisite greys, the duke was dressed in a sharply tailored jacket, his dark hair hidden by a hat and the expression on his face unreadable.
‘Mrs Wilmott,’ he murmured, bowing in response to her curtsy.
‘Your Grace,’ she replied as brightly as she could manage. ‘I am looking forward to this very much. I do enjoy riding through the park, but I do not have a carriage of my own yet.’
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he said, no hint from his face that he found pleasure in anything at all, let alone her company. The duke was a hard man to read, which was surely why her knees were trembling. Grace was used to her late husband’s every emotion exploding out of him: anger, frustration. Not that her relationship with His Grace was anything like the same, but for some reason, she could not help but compare them. Calm when she expected emotion, Tobias was the opposite of Ichabod.
‘Your Grace,’ she began, not sure what she was about to say, only realising that she had been staring up at him for longer than was socially acceptable.
He tilted his head slightly. ‘I was wondering whether you would do me the honour of calling me Tobias when we are alone. It feels…’ he raised one large shoulder ‘…rather ridiculous for you to address me with my title given the circumstances.’
Grace wasn’t sure what the circumstances were that were ridiculous and she wasn’t entirely convinced she could be informal to the imposing man in front of her. ‘Of course,’ she said, because she could hardly voice what was on her mind. ‘I should be honoured. You must call me Grace.’
The slight crinkle around his eyes was the only sign he was pleased with her words.
His Grace, or rather Tobias, turned to help her into the carriage. Something strange was happening in her midriff; a strange fluttering feeling swirled about her stomach. It was hard to believe the sensation could be in response to this stern-faced man, but there was no other explanation. He was not giving any indication that her presence similarly affected him.
He held out a gloved hand for her to take. For a moment, she could only stare at it. They had touched before, of course. Her fingers had brushed his arm before he had plunged into the Serpentine, and they had danced a waltz, and yet somehow this felt momentous, as if reaching out to take his hand would change something fundamental between them. She shook her head; she was being a ninny. The duke was only offering to help her onto the carriage, just like he would do with any lady he took out for a ride. She’d been out of sorts since she’d woken up this morning, and all these weird physical reactions had to be a result of that.
‘No?’ Tobias said softly, a faint smile teasing his lips.
‘I do apologise,’ she said, heat creeping up her neck. ‘I was woolgathering.’ She reached out and took his proffered hand, curling her fingers around his. A shock ran through her at the contact, but she ignored it. She was not a debutante, nor a woman in want of a new husband or a widow in want of a dalliance with a handsome man. She was a woman who had been under extreme emotional pressure over the last few days and who needed to relax and enjoy herself.
Despite her little talk to herself, Grace was very aware of the duke’s presence as he placed himself on the bench next to her. Although it was muted by the coat he was wearing, she could still smell the scent he wore, an intoxicating mix of bergamot and something rich she could not identify. If they had been better acquainted, she might have been able to ask him, but then again, probably not.
Settling back into the seat, she allowed herself to enjoy the rush of wind against her cheeks as the horses began to pull the carriage along. Next to her, the duke was silent. As they turned out of the road she lived on, she thought he might say something, but he did not. By the time they had reached Hyde Park, Grace was none the wiser as to why the duke had asked her to come for a ride. As they entered the green space, where other riders were moving slowly along the paths, Grace studied his profile. Like his brothers, he had dark hair which was almost completely black. Sebastian’s had often been wild. He’d always run his hands through it as each new idea occurred to him and he’d often forgotten to hide it under a hat because he was too busy with whatever project was on his mind.
Although she could see little of it right now, she had no doubt Tobias’ was as perfect as ever. It was as if not even a strand would dare to defy him by falling out of place. Having witnessed people almost dive out of his way as he left a room, without him having to utter aword to get them to move, she could well imagine his hair cowering from one glare out of those commanding eyes.
All the brothers had similar features, but one could easily tell the difference. They were all strikingly handsome with their wide shoulders and tapered waists, but it was Tobias who demanded attention by his presence alone. While that might be in part because he was a duke, it wasn’t the sole reason. There was something about his person that drew one’s awareness. If he were present, even if he made no noise, one knew he was there. Given that he rarely spoke, it was quite the achievement.
If she didn’t know better, Grace would have believed that he didn’t want to deign to talk to people he believed to be his inferior. But the more time she spent with him, the more she didn’t think that was the case. At the ball, the other evening, before she had taken offence at his matchmaking statement, she had been forming a theory. In light of what he had said to her and her own revelations the following day, she had not given it any further thought, but now that they were riding along in silence, it came back to her.
Tobias did not like speaking when certain people were around. Or rather, it was as if something somehow stopped him from doing so. Growing up, Clare had stuttered now and then. It had not been a problem for Grace, she had been content to wait until her darling sister had formed the words, but it had driven their parents to the edge of distraction. While it had never gone away, her sister spoke far more easily when her parents were not around than when they were, and though the duke appeared to speak with no problem, Grace couldn’t help but wonder if something similar was going on here.
She glanced to the tiger at the back of the carriage, before turning back to Tobias. If her theory was right, she could put it to the test right now.
‘Your Grace,’ she murmured. He turned to her, one eloquent eyebrow raised. ‘Tobias,’ she corrected herself, ignoring the heat that swept over her at this new intimacy. ‘I wonder if we may walk for a bit instead. Would that be acceptable to you?’
He held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. ‘As you wish.’
Before long, he was pulling the greys to a stop and helping her to climb down from the carriage. His tiger took control of the horses, while Tobias and Grace walked along a footpath, alone, which was exactly what she had been hoping for. Now she just had to get the conversation going. She racked her brain for a suitable topic, but when none came to mind she chose an improper one.
‘Why were you in the water when we first met? It does not look overly hygienic,’ she said, gesturing towards the swans paddling in the Serpentine’s depths.
