Then, he heard a noise! It came from the back garden and was the distinct whine of the gate. For just a moment, he had a great urge to find a linen closet and repair there until the danger had passed.
He did not do it, though. He picked up his fowling piece and ran out into the night like any hardened soldier. All the while, his footmen chased after him, saying things like, “It was just that cat who comes over the gate every single night.”
Innocent fools! They could not even perceive when danger was upon them!
He had planted himself next to the bank of rose bushes and cried out to the intruders. “I am armed and prepared to blow you to bits!”
There was no sound after that and he was satisfied he’d terrorized them and chased them off.
He spent a pleasant half hour considering his bold actions, until another idea began to form. Yes, the rogues had run away in abject terror in the face of his bravery. But didn’t every gang of thieves have a leader? When those criminals returned to their den or hidey-hole or wherever criminals lived, would not their leader be enraged?
He’d send them back to finish the job.
Of course, he would. He wouldn’t be the leader if he didn’t.
The night was to be a long siege and Wilbert Ranston would be at the ready.
*
George supposed heshould have known there was no telling a young miss anything. He had helpfully spoken to Miss Yardley regarding the dangers of men like Jacobs and Skeffington. He had made her understand that not all attention from a gentleman was to mean anything. He had very sensibly put her on her guard.
One might have imagined that she’d be grateful for the hint. Instead, she’d become very cool.
He could not outright fault her words or behavior. She did not say anything he could point to. But it was there all the same. He supposed she thought she was not like other girls. That if the likes of Jacobs and Skeffington paid her marked attention it would certainly be sincere.
She was naïve if she thought so.
As Miss Yardley’s dinner partner to her left had turned, she was forced to turn back to him. And,forcedshe did look.
“I can see perfectly well that you are unhappy with my hints,” he said. “I am sorry for that, but I did consider it a duty to my aunt. I would have been remiss if I did not point it out.”
Miss Yardley narrowed her eyes just the slightest bit and said, “There was nothing to point out, though. I think that is what you fail to comprehend.”
Ah. So she did think herself special and worldly. It was too ridiculous.
“Perhaps not,” he said, in an attempt to mollify. “But, a warning given and not needed is far preferable to a warning needed and not given. My aunt would be made deeply unhappy if there was any sort of talk.”
“Then perhaps we ought to stop talking,” she said, her smile not matching the coldness of her tone.
He really did not know what was to be done with such a girl. From afar, she was everything a lady should be. More, even. He did not think there was lady in the room who surpassed her looks. But now it was beginning to seem that…
Well…she was rather impossible.
*
Grace had neverhad the experience of being insulted. And then insulted again. And then again. It had verged on the bizarre.
Lord Gresham sought to warn her off him and then continued on with it as if she had declared she would not give him up.
Somehow, he had convinced himself that she was unhappy that he could not return her affections, rather than being unhappy at his various insults.
What an outsized opinion of himself he did have.
Though she had counseled herself toward composure and had kept pretty well to it, she had allowed herself to say they ought to stop talking. She’d meant it, they really ought to stop talking.
And so they had, though she heard the occasional huff from that side. Not speaking gave her the opportunity to gaze round the room and she rather wished she had not. There was a gentleman seated some way down the table and across that persistently attempted to catch her eye. He was older, perhaps late thirties, and there was something in his manner she did not like. Then, there was the boisterous young gentleman who she was certain had winked at her in an off-puttingly sly manner.
She’d had such different ideas of what London would be like. She supposed she’d thought it would be like her own neighborhood, those friendly and kind people just transplanted into the town. But it was not like that. There was a harder edge to these people.
