He smiled back at the word she’d oft used to describe him when he’d teased her in the past. They made their way down to the study together.
Their father was pacing the confines of the room Helen had begun to redecorate in sea-sick green and gold. Smears of paint samples blotted the walls and swathes of sample fabrics were draped about.
“Here you are at last!” their father said sharply. “I sent Will up to fetch you an hour past.”
“It took this long for Bennet to fall asleep,” Will explained.
Helen fanned herself with her handkerchief. “No wonder, after the day we had!” Her gown was crumpled, tendrils of blonde hair curling about her cheeks.
“This is what comes of interactions with the Harcourts,” Father growled, pouring himself a glass of port. “It will be a miracle if the whole county doesn’t learn of this debacle with the swords before the week is out.”
Grace felt a surge of defensiveness. “The guard came off of the blade. It could have happened to anyone.”
“The Harcourts aren’t ‘anyone.’ What if he’d been killed right on our front lawn? The Viscount Everdene—by his own sister! The scandal would have destroyed us in good society!”
Grace frowned. “Society’s reaction is what concerns you? Not the fact that a man was injured and his poor sister was obviously distraught?”
“She belongs in a madhouse!”
Grace choked back a gasp, stunned at her father’s harsh reply. “Cassandra was overwrought! Surely you think a little compassion is called for?”
“What iscalled foris a solid boundary walling off this family from any contact with the Harcourts. Viscount Everdene is just like his father! Showing off his skills, not caring who gets hurt.”
“Lord Everdene was pressed to take up the sword by Lord Arkwright,” Grace exclaimed. “When Will and the boys insisted he do so, he had little choice but to comply. Didn’t you see how careful he was? He could have divested Will of that sword in a heartbeat.”
“Let’s not give the man too much credit,” Will said in a huff.
“You are ascribing traits to Everdene that don’t exist,” her father replied. “You’ve seen him—what? Thrice in the past twenty years?”
That much was true. And yet, the way he’d reacted at the lake, the way he’d accepted her little brothers’ apologies, the moments alone, in the kitchen at Everdene Hall, and in the morning room…she’d seen glimpses of a man she wished to know better.
Her father lifted his glass of port. “I understand the fascination women feel toward the viscount. Lucien Harcourt is rich, powerful, and fine looking enough to turn women’s heads. But so are snakes.”
“Papa!”
“You must accept that I know best,” he bit out.
Hurt and anger flared inside her. She stared at her father as if he’d suddenly transformed into a stranger.
At her reaction, he seemed to check himself, speaking to her in measured tones that irritated her. “My dearest girl, you don’t know Viscount Everdene. My judgement should be enough for you.”
Her chin bumped up a notch. “Considering the changes around here of late, I prefer to trust my own,” she said.
Her father’s face flushed brick red, while Helen stifled a sob.
“I can’t think why you would invite the Harcourts to The Willows to begin with,” he blustered. “There was bound to be trouble! The only reason I allowed you to attend the dinner at Everdene Hall was because of Captain Harcourt’s work on thevillage, and because the earl himself was never in residence there. I prefer you not pursue old friendships.”
“Whatever ill happened between you and the earl all those years ago has no bearing on us now,” Grace said. “I’m not a child in need of protection.”
“No, you are in a far more precarious position as an unmarried gentlewomen, yet you would insist on dealing with his wound.” He glared over the rims of his spectacles. “You were gone a very long time.”
Grace thought of the kiss, the way the taut skin of Lucien’s chest felt against her palm. Her cheeks burned. “Someonehad to perform a hostess’s duty here at The Willows. You could have attended our guest yourself, Papa, but you were too occupied with a wife who was carrying on more than the man who was actually bleeding!” The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them.
Too late. Helen looked at her, aghast. “I’m sure the first Lady Elliot would have handled things flawlessly.” She dabbed at her tears with the lace-edged handkerchief. “Barbara was everything I am not!”
A strange mixture of grief, defensiveness, and torn loyalties warred in Grace’s father’s eyes as he patted her shoulder. “It is no wonder you were overset. Any woman of proper feeling would be. But I will make certain you will not be put in such a position again.” He turned to Grace, his expression darkening. “Helen informed me that you and she have been invited to for tea by Captain Harcourt’s wife. You will send your regrets and do the same for any other invitations that come from Everdene Hall.”
Grace’s temper flared. “Why should I do so? They are my friends.”
