If only Mama were here, Grace could ask what had happened, sure she’d receive a forthright answer instead of her father’s evasions. But Mama was gone.
Grace did her best to play hostess, despite the crackling of tension beneath the overly polite conversation and half-hearted games.
Two hours later, when the last of the Harcourt horses and carriage were brought around, Lucien lingered. He drew her aside as the others traded farewells.
“Thank you,” he said, only the deep lines in his face betraying that he was still in pain.
“Thank you for what? Tending your wound? I was worried you’d been hurt badly.”
“Once again, you managed an uncomfortable situation with grace, humor, and a skill I’ve seldom seen. This is the second time I owe you my thanks.”
Her cheeks burned at his praise. She glanced down at the thickness of the bandage visible beneath the borrowed shirt and a lump formed in her throat. “Youwillkeep the wound clean, won’t you? Have your valet change the dressing often.”
“He will not be such a tender nurse as the one I had today.”
“Lucien…”
He touched her cheek. “You mustn’t fret. I have taken care of myself for a very long time.”
He looked so alone, even with his friend and his family. Solitary in a way that twisted her heart. But there were moments she glimpsed the man behind the mask, the man she’dcome to know in those stolen times when his guard had been stripped away. Rare moments, when he’d seemed more real, more vulnerable, something in his eyes she couldn’t forget. The farthest thing from cold.
What would it be like to be the woman who stepped past those walls, drew out the man she’d glimpsed so briefly when he’d caught her in the kitchen at Everdene Hall, when he’d kissed her in the morning room just hours ago. When his eyes had glowed, bluer than ever, with a spark of longing he couldn’t hide. Not just physical desire, but something deeper.
Her pulse fluttered, as she met his ice-blue gaze. “Penelope has invited me for tea next week,” Grace said. “Perhaps your cook could make more of those pink cakes.”
He looked down, twisting the signet ring on his finger. “I won’t be there,” he said. “It’s best if I return to London as soon as possible.”
“Lucien, I don’t understand…”
“Surely you can see the effect I have on my sisters. I make Jane so nervous she can barely speak when I’m in the room, and Cassandra…well…you saw what happened today.” After a moment he looked at her. “Perhaps the one thing I don’t regret about this interlude at Everdene Hall is my time with you, my Lady Grace.”
His voice turned husky, tender, worlds away from those echoes of boyish mockery. He smiled, a smile that buried itself deep in her chest. He took her hand, bent his dark head to kiss her fingertips. Then he swung up on his golden horse and rode away.
CHAPTER 11
The clock was chiming ten by the time Bennet loosened his grip on Grace’s hand enough that she dared to slip her fingers from his grasp. She froze in the glow of the candle he’d insisted be left burning and watched the slight flutter of his lashes against his cheek, fearing his eyes might pop open again. Thrice she had thought she’d managed to soothe her brothers to sleep. But when she tried to tiptoe away from their bedside, the creak of floorboards had awakened them. This time, thank God, they seemed well and truly asleep.For now, a voice whispered in her head.
She rubbed the back of her neck, weary to her bones from dismantling picnic accoutrements, calming the servants’ rattled nerves over the fencing accident, and answering Nanny’s plea for help with the frightened boys. When she finally stepped out into the corridor, she was surprised to find Will standing like a sentry, blocking the stairway that led to the nursery.
“You look like the very devil, Grace. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever be able to pry Bennet’s fingers off of yours.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, swiping at her burning eyes.
“I assume you received the paternal summons to dissect the happenings of the day.” Will raised his dark brows.
The meeting. Her heart sank. She longed for her bed. A nice cup of tea. Pulling the coverlets over her head…
“Father sent me to see what was keeping you,” Will explained. “I took one look through the door and decided that he and Helen could dashed well wait.” An unaccustomed seriousness shadowed his youthful features. “Poor little fellows. I’ve not seen them so upset since Mother died. I wouldn’t count on getting much sleep tonight, Gracie. I have a feeling you’ll have company.”
In the weeks following their mother’s death, Grace’s room had been haunted by three little night-shirted wanderers seeking answers she couldn’t give them, Avery joining in under the guise of checking on his younger brothers. They’d burrowed into the fourposter bed like puppies, their small, warm bodies smelling of soap and strawberry jam, their silky hair tickling her cheek.
She’d cuddled the boys close in the vast stretch of empty hours that had remained after the long days of caring for Mama. Slowly, oh so slowly, she’d felt the coils of fear and confusion loosen, then melt from their rigid bodies as the jagged grief inside her softened, too.
If theydidcome wandering later tonight, she would welcome them with open arms. After the events of the day, she could use a hug as well.
As if he understood without words, Will looped an arm around her, and she leaned against his shoulder. “You are the best sister who ever lived, you know,” he said in that deep voice that still surprised her. “We’re all blasted lucky to have you.”
His unexpected praise made the corners of her mouth turn up. She nudged him with an elbow. “You’re not so reprehensible yourself.”
