The next morning, after much talking at the door, Lady Barlow had sent them on their way.
To her delight, Grace was not handled so delicately in the carriage as they made their way toward London. George pulled the curtains closed on either side and…well… she was beginning to get the idea that marriage would suit her very nicely.
They had made a stop at Eltham to retrieve George’s horse, the plan being he would ride Mercury alongside the carriage. However, when the time came they decided George really ought to stay in the carriage with the curtains closed and a fellow was hired to do the duty.
Now, the curtains were opened and her hair had been straightened and they approached Berkeley Square. They were to inform Lady Heathway of recent developments and Grace quaked at the thought of it. It was not at all unknown that a well-placed person would deign to assist a lady not as fortunate but be outraged if that lady thought to connect herself forevermore to the family. More than one ward had discovered the truth of it. Gratefulness was expected, but having the audacity to put oneself on equal footing might not be.
She must just remember she was a viscount’s daughter. And remember her composure.
George squeezed her hand, and she realized her trepidation had been writ large on her features. “She is not a Viking bent on destruction, you know,” he said.
“Of course she is not,” Grace said, “she told me herself that she is a Visigoth.”
The carriage came to a halt and seeing as there was no footman on the lookout, George opened the carriage door and helped Grace to the pavement. He took her arm and led her up the steps.
Gregory opened the doors just as George reached for the handle.
“Do tell my aunt we will see her in the drawing room at her earliest convenience,” George said to the very surprised-looking Benny.
“Lady Heathway is already in the drawing room, my lord,” he said.
“Excellent.”
Grace was pulled along toward the doors, though she would not have minded to pause in the great hall and…do what? Delay. She would like to delay.
“Lord Gresham and Miss Yardley, my lady,” Benny said.
Lady Heathway appeared delighted, though Grace did not know if that attitude would hold.
“Grace, there you are, safe again. George, I was most relieved to get your note last night, else I would not have slept a wink. I knew you would bring her back.”
“I did wonder, Lady Heathway,” Grace said, “if you would want me back.”
“Why ever would you think it” Lady Heathway asked. “Now, I will admit, you were very, very wrong to not come to me last evening and I am certain I could have saved you a world of trouble. But then, you were the victim of an elaborate scheme and youarea loyal and dutiful daughter. One cannot fault you for that.”
“If only we could get Jacobs to admit to the whole thing,” George said.
Lady Heathway laughed and said, “You do remember you left him in the clutches of myself and the duchess? Well, we had him hauled into Lady Tredwell’s library and browbeat the truth out of him. Then, we made him write out a confession in case anybody wondered about the veracity of the tale. He is packing up and will be out of Town before the sun sets today. We have told him he will stay away for two years and then when he returns there is to be a more sober and dignified Mr. Jacobs or there is to be none at all.”
“That is probably for the best,” George said. “Hanging the idea in front of him that he might someday be able to redeem himself and rejoin society is probably the only thing that will keep him from making trouble. A man with nothing to lose can become dangerous.”
“As we have seen, I’m afraid,” Lady Heathway said. “In any case, how many seasons could the duchess and I keep writing those letters about him? Eventually, people would begin to let him back in. Heisvery rich and peopledoenjoy his wit, scathing as it may be.”
Grace was rather stupefied, though she supposed she should not be. If anybody could overpower the likes Mr. Jacobs, she supposed it would be those two ladies.
Mr. Ranston had come in with a tea tray and almost stumbled on seeing her. He recovered himself and set the tray down with a clatter.
“Aunt,” George said, “we are engaged.”
“Who is engaged?” Lady Heathway asked quizzically.
“I, to Miss Yardley,” George said.
Before Lady Heathway could express joy or rage, happiness or sadness, Mr. Ranston hit the carpet with a thud.
All three of them, and Gregory who had just come in, stared at the fainted butler.
“Gregory,” Lady Heathway said with the faintest of sighs, “you’d best get a pillow and a blanket. I fear the last two days’ events have been entirely too much for Mr. Ranston. Then, take the tea tray into the breakfast room.”
