Miss Grenville irritated me more often than not. She was barbed, unpredictable, too clever by half. She unnerved me in ways I couldn’t quite name. And still, somehow, she fascinated me. Not with fluttering lashes or polished charm, but with the sharp intelligence in her gaze and the way she made me feel as if I were the one being measured and found lacking.
Her words from earlier echoed in my mind:I suppose you enjoy a challenge?
I did. Always had, whether fencing or rising within the Company.
To heighten the stakes, I had an inheritance on the line. And she—well, she was part of the bargain, whether either of us liked it or not.
I quite prefer Mr. Darcy, I’ll have you know,she had also informed me with that pert nose in the air. Perhaps later tonight I would borrow the book from the library and see what this nonsense was regarding Mr. Darcy.
Then there was the matter of that literary salon. She had dragged me into the lion’s den, and instead of merely enduring it, I’d found myself fascinated. Not by the event or the attendees, but by her. The way she stood firm in her ideals, unflinching under scrutiny. The fire in her voice. The way she challenged me without fear.
A more rational man might step back, see that she had no interest in him, and let Lord Chudley have his day.
As for the colonel’s statement that hung in the air as thick as the cigar smoke, I decided truthfulness would be the best tactic.
“She has not given consent, sir.”
“And you have not asked,” he snapped as he drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair.
True enough. I refused to be cowed. “I would ask that you give Miss Grenville enough time to consider her feelings. I won’t take a bride who feels tepidly about her upcoming matrimony. Surely an announcement can be given by the end of the month. I believe she and I are doing everything we can to get acquainted.”
“A wise decision,” Edward broke in from his seat across from me.“Allow the romance to take its natural course without any of us butting in. Kitty and Mr. Sinclair have several more occasions to enjoy each other’s company. Other balls. Trips to the museum. Everything in good decorum. Aunt is certain she can secure a few invitations to dinners that we can all attend. And while we are planning our social calendars, why not visit the opera?”
Colonel Grenville swirled his port. “Opera? Is there a certain singer who has won you over? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I will, however, want you on your best behavior since I’ve decided to invite Miss Fredericka to stay with us the rest of the season. She is a sensible girl. She’ll have a beneficial effect on Katherine.”
Edward froze for the briefest moment. “Isn’t she to be married to a Mr. Merriweather?”
The colonel waved his free hand as if to dismiss the notion. “I suppose not.”
“Good,” Edward muttered, no longer meeting either of our gazes. “She’s too young to be saddled with another man’s children.”
The conversation wound down after port, and I climbed the grand staircase, the colonel’s voice still carrying faintly from the parlor below.
At the landing, just beyond reach of the main chandelier’s light, I nearly collided with a slim figure moving in haste toward the narrower passage leading to the servants’ stairs.
A bundle slipped from her grasp. Letters fanned across the floor like scattered leaves.
“Miss Grenville,” I said, surprised.
She gave a startled cry but didn’t shrink back, and the way she clutched the remaining letters to her chest betrayed urgency.
“You’re up rather late,” I added as I helped her pick up the fallen missives.
She dipped her chin and looked past me toward the hall below, where the colonel’s voice rumbled faintly.
I stooped to retrieve one remaining missive on the floor, noting the cracked seal and the neat, familiar handwriting. Hyderabad. To the nizam, no less.
“Mr. Sinclair,” she whispered. “If you please... I must have that letter.”
A warbling female voice called out from the drawing room shared between bedrooms. “Katherine, I insist on knowing who you are writing to at this late hour!”
“Fredericka and Lady Ashford, Aunt,” she called as she glanced over her shoulder. When she looked back at me, she spoke softly. “My aunt doesn’t understand my need for privacy, even within my own chambers.”
Kitty’s presence sent a thrill straight through me, tempered by her nervous manner. I handed the letter to her, our fingers grazing. A ripple of heat flooded me at the innocent touch.
“Are you also planning to post correspondence to Hyderabad?”
She frowned as the colonel’s voice drifted up, suggesting he, too, might retire for the night.
