She only realised they had descended into silence, looking at each other and not doing anything else, when Mrs Jacobs, Sophia’s mother,addressed a comment to the table about a shopping trip to the nearby village.
‘I would love to visit the seamstress there again,’ Mrs Jacobs, a woman of boundless energy and enthusiasm, continued. ‘She created one of my favourite dresses. Do say we can get a party together and go.’
Grace remembered Tobias’ comment about her not being a prisoner and wondered how he would deal with this potential mass outing. It was surely not something he desired, but how was he to put everyone off without coming across as a medieval warlord preparing for a siege? It was not he who responded.
Emily, perhaps without thinking, said, ‘Of course we can go. We can put on some carriages and make a day of it. There are some pretty ruins near the village, which would be delightful to visit in this lovely weather we are having. We could take a picnic and explore.’
There was a general murmur of excited agreement around the table.
Tobias said nothing, his jaw tight. He could hardly keep his family safe if they were scattered across the county. At the same time, it might raise suspicions with the non-family members if none of them left. As far as Grace was aware, the Dashworths had discussed their problem with no one outside of their inner circle.
‘What an excellent idea. A trip sounds wonderful,’ she found herself saying. ‘However, I shall put on some games, for those of us who prefer to remain at home.’ Heat flamed across her skin as everyone turned to look at her and she realised just how far she had overstepped. By suggesting an alternative, she had put herself on a level with Emily, which had not been her intention. Without thinking it through, she turned to Tobias and made the whole thing a lot worseby addressing him directly. ‘That is, if it is acceptable to you, T… Your Grace.’
Her body was now so hot, she was surprised she had not burst into flames. Watching the way his shoulders hitched, the words not forthcoming, she wished fire would consume her. Because she appeared to be on a mission to sabotage herself, she smiled wildly at him, as if this was all completely normal, that it was entirely her responsibility to organise activities in a house that was not her own.
The answering crinkle around his eyes, the softening of his whole demeanour, was not something she focused on, because something else surprised her instead. ‘A day of games sounds just the thing, thank you, Mrs Wilmott.’
It was the most she had ever heard him say in front of a large group of people. Around the room, she could sense people stilling, slowing down to study the moment, and it hit her then how much of a disaster that would be. Focusing on something that made Tobias different from everyone else would only highlight it. ‘Excellent,’ she said quickly, filling the moment before it could become awkward. ‘What games do you English like to play? Pall-mall, perhaps?’
She had seen a course laid out at Glanmore House in London, but she had never seen any of them use it.
Tobias laughed softly. ‘So long as you do not let my brothers play, that sounds like a good option.’
The rest of the room had descended into complete silence. Everyone was watching them converse. Sweat was starting to bead across Grace’s forehead. The last thing she had wanted to do was draw attention to him, not when he loathed it.
‘Are your brothers very bad at it?’ she asked, instantly cursing that she’d asked a question and not made a statement that could be replied to with a shake or nod of the head.
There was another pause, another hitch of his shoulders, before he said, ‘Christopher is diabolical.’
The whole table erupted into laughter amid Christopher’s shouted protests that his brothers all cheated, and that he would prove once and for all that it was pure make-believe that he was bad at the simple game. Tobias’ lips were curved slightly upwards, not a full grin, but a half-smile, as the good-natured insults continued to abound. Grace sank back in her chair, her whole body weak with relief that the moment of crisis had passed.
As the meal progressed, the Dashworth brothers occasionally directed remarks to Tobias. Grace had not been to that many meals with them, but enough to recognise that this was unusual. Tobias normally ate in silence, sometimes addressing those seated near him, but rarely involving himself in the meal as a whole. His guests and family were used to his quiet presence and carried on without him. Now, while no one could call him the most animated of hosts, he was responding when asked questions, and even made everyone laugh again with another jibe at his youngest brother’s pall-mall ability or lack thereof. Grace didn’t know how to explain the ache in her sternum; a cross between pleasure and pain, it was something she had not felt before. It was almost as if she was proud of Tobias, which was ridiculous. He was not hers to be proud of, but there was definitely part of her that wanted to say, ‘See, this is what Tobias is really like, if only you took the time to look.’
The problem was, she was starting to look too much.
When the last of the plates were removed, Emily stood and everyone followed suit. ‘Shall we retire, ladies?’
Under the general noise of the women moving from their seats, Tobias leaned forward and said, ‘First light then, Mrs Wilmott.’
‘First light,’ she agreed, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across her face, or her heart tripping when he smiled back.
Chapter Twenty
Sarah was bleary-eyed as she helped Grace into a riding habit. The sun hadn’t quite made an appearance and neither woman had spoken much, Sarah because she was not keen on an early morning and Grace because she was deep in the grip of fear. In the candlelight and basking in the warmth of Tobias’ smile, Grace had temporarily forgotten how terrifying she found horses. With the prospect of potentially getting on one within the hour, her mind was running through all the possible scenarios that could face her; death at a horse’s hoof being amongst them.
‘Wasn’t it a good idea of mine to insist you bought one of these?’ said Sarah, standing back and admiring Grace in her riding habit. ‘The jacket is beautifully cut and really shows you to an advantage. You said you would never ride, but it was lucky I foresaw this possibility and insisted on it.’
It was completely impossible for Sarah to have guessed at this particular set of circumstances, but Grace was too nervous to point that out. Her stomach was doing elaborate swoops and swirls and she wasn’t sure whether that was because she was going to be in close proximity to a horse or because she would be spending time with Tobias.
‘You were right as always,’ was all she managed, because that was true. Sarah had an excellent eye for fashion, but she was also someone who Grace trusted completely.
‘Look at you, you are trembling.’ Sarah took Grace’s fingers in her hands and rubbed them briskly as if trying to warm Grace up. As Grace was already very warm, the gesture was futile, although she was grateful for the sentiment. ‘Are you frightened of the animals, or…’ Sarah waggled her eyebrows ‘…is it His Grace who has got you all flustered?’
‘Do ladies’ maids generally talk like this?’ Grace asked, mainly to evade the question.
‘I would not know. I have never been one before. What were your previous maids like?’
‘They were spies for my parents and once I was married, my husband. I spoke to them as little as possible because I knew that whatever I said would be reported back.’ She squeezed Sarah’s hands, which were still holding hers. ‘I prefer our relationship, even if you are impertinent.’
