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Instead, she turned back to Lord Brown, wishing she was not so completely aware of Lord Weston moving to a very different place in the room.
“I did find some wonderful poems to entertain myself this afternoon. But what of you? What did you do for enjoyment?”
“Lord Andrews and his father, Lord Clark, joined me in the billiards room with Lord Honeyfield. We were trying to convince Lord Clark that a cue can strike the ball with far more accuracy than a mace. But as they say, it is hard for an old dog to learn new tricks.”
“Have you a set of cues as well as a set of maces, then?” Grace asked. What her father would have given to have a billiards table at home.
“Indeed I do, and a fresh pair of new ivory balls to go with them.”
“You should ask my father to play next time you would like a game.”
“Does he enjoy the activity?”
“Most certainly. Only, he doesn’t get to play as often as he wishes.”
Someone moved up behind her; Grace felt certain she knew who it was as she’d not truly lost track of where in the room he stood since he’d walked in.
Lord Brown’s gaze moved up and landed on the individual standing behind Grace. “And what of you, Lord Weston? Do you enjoy billiards as much as myself and Mr. Stewart?”
“I cannot claim to be a proficient.” Lord Weston’s deep voice rolled over her. “But I do enjoy the activity.”
As the two gentlemen continued their talk about cues compared to maces, Grace momentarily closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. Why was it that Lord Weston never failed to upend her? Though, now that she thought on it, it wasn’t an unpleasant sort of upending. There was nothing about him that put her on her guard or made her wish he would leave her be. His attentions were...constant. Kind. He agreed with her on several topics and seemed to share many of her same interests. Perhaps that was why he seemed to seek her out so frequently? She could think of no other reason. She was far too below him in station for either of them to ever consider being more than acquaintances; just the thought brought heat to her cheeks, and she had to duck her head to avoid drawing unwanted attention to herself.
“And what of you, Miss Stewart?” Lord Weston’s deep voice brought her back into the conversation. “Do you prefer cues or maces?”
“Come now,” Lord Brown said with a scoff. “A lady doesn’t often play at billiards.”
Grace turned toward Lord Brown, her eyebrow lifting slightly. Though he hadn’t said the words aloud, his tone seemed to express that her opinion was inconsequential. “I played a few times with my father when visiting a neighborhood friend in my youth.” She sat up straighter, turning toward Lord Weston once again. “I find I much prefer cues.” Lord Brown could call her a bluestocking if he must, but in that moment, Grace felt no guilt in voicing a decided opinion. “I feel they shoot far straighter and give the player more control.”
“I agree.” Lord Weston’s soft, sincere smile, which she’d only seen for the first time yesterday, reappeared. “Perhaps we might...” His gaze dropped as did his smile. Lord Weston shifted his weight, and yet he still did not finish his sentence.
“Are you asking a lady to a game of billiards?” Lord Brown said, disbelief in his tone as he glanced between Lord Weston and Grace.
Lord Weston looked toward the fire in the hearth, then back at her, his hand opening and closing a few times. “I...well...”
Lord Brown stood abruptly. “You’ll never get the thing done that way. Let me show you how it’s done.” He offered his hand to Grace. “Would you accompany me to the billiards room, dear lady?”
Grace slipped her hand into his. “Sounds quite exciting.”
Lord Brown helped her to her feet and tucked her hand beneath his elbow. “I would like for you to stand by me as my good luck charm while I show the Earl of Weston exactly how one wins with cues.”
Oh...then she wouldn’t be playing after all.
“I would be delighted,” she managed to say while trying her best to hide her disappointment.
Lord Brown lifted his head. “Excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention?”
The room stilled, and all eyes went to him. In the sudden attention, Lord Weston’s smile completely vanished. There was a look about his eyes that Grace first believed was disinterest, perhaps even superiority. But the more she looked, the more it appeared to be discomfort she saw. Lord Weston did not appear to appreciate so many eyes on him.
She’d assumed he thought himself rather above all. But to look at him now, Grace couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t misjudged him.
“I declare,” Lord Brown said loudly, “a competition between myself and Lord Weston, to be settled in the billiards room.”
There were manyoohsand some clapping at the announcement.
“More still,” Lord Brown continued, “Miss Stewart has consented to be my lucky charm and will no doubt bring me much good luck.”
“You’re going to need it,” Lord Clark called across the room.
