Whatever Miss Yardley was or was not, whoever she liked or did not, she had provided his aunt with a memory she would treasure always. And probably talk about forever, too.
Still, whodidMiss Yardley like? He could not tell. Vance, perhaps? Lady Heathway would not particularly favor the match, but George would not be surprised by it. Vance was a genial fellow who seemed particularly good at entertaining ladies. Vance had probably never lectured her and had certainly never put a watchman outside her doors.
Vance was all wrong, though. That was the central problem—they wereall, to a man, completely wrong.
Perhaps Miss Yardley would leave the season with no engagement. Certainly, if she did so, his aunt would bring her back for a second round. She might like him better then. She would have beenseasoned by last seasonand her mother would be in better health and he would have no cause to lecture or hire a watchman.
They might come together on different footing. Of course, that was right.
Right as it might be, there was the difficulty of warding off all these men who fanned themselves round her. It was not just the rogues, like Jacobs and Skeffington, it was all of them! Bertridge, Vance, Blackwood, Ryland—none of them would be put off by Jacobs’ story. Not when she walked into a ballroom and they looked at her.
My God, just now every man in the room seemed to be rapt by her playing. But it was not her playing, as good as it was. It was her!
But what would he do if he succeeded in keeping these men away? Was he thinking seriously of a future with Miss Yardley?
There was no need to consider that just now. Let her come back next year and they would just see how it unfolded. Perhaps his aunt might even invite Miss Yardley to a country party over the summer. And then the Christmas holidays. That way, there would not be all ofthemcircling round.
Certainly that was the right course. Though, if he were to be successful in keeping her unspoken for, he would need his aunt’s help. And, he thought he knew just how to get it.
*
Jacobs paced hislibrary, having drunk far too much brandy and yet not enough to soothe him. His post, which had always been stacks of invitations, had dwindled to almost nothing.
Oh, he was still invited here and there, but not to any event of significance. He would dine with Lord Cahill on the morrow, but that would be what it always was—a collection of old bachelors and widowers who found him amusing.
Certain people had begun avoiding him at White’s, as if he were a sinking ship and they did not want to be dragged under with him. They would not cut him outright, but it was obvious enough. Gresham practically fled through the other door out of the pool room when he’d entered it. Grubbs and Lester had begun attending partieswithouthim. Grubbs said he’d brought it on himself for trying to sound like Brummel. Lester had responded that he did not think their voices similar. Grubbs had tried to explain he meant similar in their habit of composing insults, not the sound of their voices. Lester had been entirely lost and wandered off to Lady Caroline’s card party.
Of course, Gresham and his ridiculous aunt must be at the heart of it somehow. His bon mot about Miss Yardley had somehow set them off. But the lady had been hanging onto a drainpipe! Anybody would have repeated the story for amusement.
He was not amused at the moment.
Ryland’s mystery ball was in a few days and he’d been told not to come. He’d not answered though, and he planned to go and claim he’d never received the note. He’d claim it if he were even asked, which he doubted he would be.
Let society see that he could not be driven out byLady Naysayand they would disregard whatever directive she’d put out in the world. He was amusing, she was irritating. It seemed an easy choice.
The lady was about to discover that rank was not everything.
Chapter Ten
As the carriagehad carried them home from Lady Redfield’s musical evening, Lady Heathway had crowed in every possible manner. What had been the look on Lady Easton’s face upon witnessing Grace’s skill. Lady Featherstone had even fanned herself. Lady Redfield had used her handkerchief extensively, so moved was she. The duchess had taken to nodding vigorously in approval. And Lady Mendleton? She had been rather red in the face, as her own protégé had never yet been seen anywhere in the vicinity of a pianoforte that hadn’t been roped shut.
Grace smiled and nodded. She was very much gratified. Not because of what the other ladies might have thought of her playing, but because she had very much wished to see Lady Heathway pleased. She had caused so much trouble, but this was one thing she could do to assuage some of that.
She had very purposefully chosen that particular sonata, as it had an importance and gravitas that a simpler air could not approach. It was structured and did not go willy-nilly all over the place. She thought it would suit and it seemed that it had.
Upon arrival to the house, Grace waved to the bushes, in case the watchman was still crouching amongst them.
When they entered the hall, they found Ranston on the alert, but happy to report that he had not heard any suspicious sounds out of doors.
Lady Heathway seemed approving of this calmer approach to the family’s absence, but Grace rather thought it was a few good doses of brandy that had done it. At least, that looked to be the case, as he seemed rather red-eyed and unsteady.
A letter from the late post lay on the salver on the side table. Both Grace and Lady Heathway spotted it at the same time, and both recognized the handwriting well enough. It was from her mother.
“Now Grace,” Lady Heathway said, “allow me to read the letter first. If Lady Barlow has written of all her complaints again, I do not want you to be upset by it. Because certainly, we would not wish that you…”
Lady Heathway did not finish her sentence, though Grace understood her well enough. She nodded, as she could see the lady was determined to understand its contents.
Lady Heathway tore open the letter and scanned it.
