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“Maybe?” he said at length, sounding as though he were asking a question.
Grace laughed again. “I am beginning to wonder if your punishment for loosing at billiards isn’t, perhaps, rather too strict.”
“I wouldn’t have lost if it hadn’t been for her.” He took hold of her arm once more and ever so slowly helped them both to stand. Even as he spoke with her, his gaze was on the forest, no doubt watching for his teammates’ dreaded return. “Lady Katherine, in her attempt tosupportme, stood rather too close and more than once bumped my cue.”
Oh dear. Grace hadn’t even noticed—probably because he hadn’t said anything at the time. Lord Brown, on the other hand, had barked at a couple of people during the night for getting too close to him while he was trying to shoot. Lord Weston rose in her estimation, for he’d apparently dealt with the same thing and had chosen not to grow angry.
“You are a very patient man,” Grace said, glad to be standing once more. Her legs had grown tired of crouching low.
“My sister gives me plenty of practice.”
Grace swatted his shoulder. “I thought we already established you are not to speak ill of my dear friend.”
The strangest look passed over Lord Weston’s eyes at her statement. Or was it at her touch? She’d rather forgotten herself, she supposed. Just because he’d asked her not to ‘my lord’ him didn’t mean she was on equal footing with him.
Instead of growing overbearing, his expression turned thoughtful. “May I ask you something?”
The jesting over, Grace clasped her hands before her. “Of course.”
“Why did you continue to write my sister back?”
Her brow creased. “Why wouldn’t I have?” Lady Frances had been a delightful correspondent.
“I mean...” Lord Weston paused. He placed a hand over his mouth, rubbing at his chin for a moment before starting again. “Was it in hopes of a connection with the sister of an earl? With someone who would elevate your own standing among society?”
It was a slap across the face. “Certainly not.” Grace gathered her skirt in a fist. And here she’d started to believe Lord Weston didn’t overly care for titles and place among theton. “If you will excuse me, I believe I must return to my team.”
Lord Weston skipped ahead, placing himself directly in her path. “I said that wrong.”
She stopped but didn’t respond.
“Forgive me. It is only that I have known many people to befriend...my sister...simply for such a reason.” His voice lowered. “I was hoping to find you a better friend than that.”
She supposed the sister of an earlwouldfind it rather difficult to know who cared about her for herself and who wished only for the elevated connection. “I hate to think what Lady Frances has said to you to make you think so ill of me.”
“Oh no, it was nothing in your letters. I only...wondered.”
He seemed to sincerely wish to know. And did he know much of the content of her letters? Heat filled her cheeks. Lady Frances hadn’t ever mentioned speaking of their letters to her brother. Truth was, she never mentioned him at all. Grace wouldn’t have even known Lady Frances had a brother except she’d brought it up several times during their London Season. Lady Frances had seemed quite proud of having an earl for a brother, but perhaps that was simply part of the way she blended in among theton. Her letters hadn’t focused on such things at all.
In a large way,thatwas why Grace had continued the correspondence.
“I guess I found in your sister a soul quite similar to my own.”
His smile returned. “I am pleased to hear it.”
A cry of joy followed by a roll of laughter echoed among the trees. Grace turned toward the sound. It came from the direction Lord Brown had moved toward.
“It seems the perfect yuletide log has been found,” she said. And yet, she felt no disappointment at not having been there for the find.
“Shall we go and see this glorious log for ourselves, then?”
Grace loved that he so quickly moved between that which was serious and that which was lighthearted; he was comfortable with either. At least he was when it was only the two of them. She was growing more and more certain that she was right in assuming Lord Weston did not feel himself superior to others. He was simply quiet and perhaps even a bit shy among large groups.
“I suppose we shall,” Grace said, carefully making her way through the snow. “Although, once we do come upon the others, I’m afraid Lord Brown will make you confess to his superior log-finding abilities.”
Lord Weston chuckled. “Ah yes, since such a skill is so highly sought after among society.”
“Most highly sought after.” A small root, hidden beneath the snow, caught on Grace’s boot. She stumbled only a bit before righting herself. Her conversation with Lord Weston was far too diverting for her own good, apparently. “You shall have to confess to losing yet again. There is nothing else for it.”
He took hold of her hand and gently wove it around his arm. The look he gave her sent warmth not only to her heart this time, but through all of her.
“Oh,” he said, his gaze not leaving her. “I don’t consider today a loss—not in the least.”
