Page 14 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Fourteen

G race sucked in a breath when they entered the gallery. Marble busts, vases, and statues lined the walls of the room, with several life-sized carvings dotting the center floor. “This is an amazing collection. How did he find it all?”

Mr. Yardley looked down at his book. “It seems he made a handful of visits to Italy. And what he did not find while on his trips, he had a friend make purchases for him and send them over by ship.”

They moved from one statue to the next. Mr. Yardley would read whatever information was in his pamphlet. His sisters had moved several exhibits in front of them. They glanced behind them every so often, as any dutiful chaperone would.

Grace’s cheeks warmed when they stopped in front of the statue named Discobolus . It was silly of her to react in such a way to the carving. It was, after all, art. The male body should not embarrass her. Yet, she could not seem to cool her skin. She tried to keep her gaze only on the man’s face, but they kept dropping to his chiseled shoulders and chest. Was that really what a man’s chest looked like beneath his coats? She looked over at Mr. Yardley from the corners of her eyes. Did Mr. Yardley look like that beneath his coats?

Her face blazed, and she looked away.

Swallowing hard, she glanced over at Mr. Yardley and caught him watching her. Another bout of heat rippled through her. Lawks, what he must think of her! She was acting like a doe-eyed child. She had not come to the museum with him only to end up looking like a ninny. First, she had nearly cried when they could not find the plants and now she was blushing uncontrollably over statues and what might be beneath Mr. Yardley’s coats. What was wrong with her?

Someone cleared their throat, and Grace looked over her shoulder to see a man sitting on a rickety-looking chair with a sketch pad on his lap. “You are blocking my view.” He motioned them to the side with his charcoal stick.

Mr. Yardley raised his brows at her as they moved to the next piece. A bust of a young woman carved from white marble swept the heat from Grace’s cheeks. That was better. “Look how lovely she is,” Grace said. If for no other reason than the silence was driving her to bedlam.

Lady Evangeline looked up at the statue, her head tilted to the side. “I believe she is the water nymph, Clytie. She was the daughter of the Titan Oceanus, and she was in love with Helios.”

Grace’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you learn of this?”

Lady Evangeline smiled and lifted her chin. “My governess fancied the Greeks.”

“And we have many books on the subject in the library.” Lady Arabella stated.

“Hmmm, then you know of them too?” Grace looked at Lady Arabella.

She wrinkled her nose. “Thankfully, the woman married before I was out of the nursery. And Miss Humphries, my governess, believed the Greeks to be vulgar.” At the last word, Lady Arabella’s lips ticked up. “Which is why I read every one of the books and told her all about them. It vexed her to no end, and she left before Christmastide. I don’t suspect I’ll have another governess until autumn at the earliest.” She looked pleased with herself.

Mr. Yardley shook his head in mock disgust. “It is no wonder Father is at his wit’s end.”

Grace grinned but turned back to Mr. Yardley. “I have little knowledge of the Greeks.” She twisted at her fingertips, again feeling inferior to those with her.

Mr. Yardley shrugged. “Nor do I. What else can you tell us about her, Evie?”

Lady Evangeline straightened her back and shoulders, pride obvious in her looks. “When Helios turned his love to someone else, Clytie laid herself…” she blushed, “naked on the rocks, hoping to draw his attention as she watched him fly the sun across the sky. She did not eat for nine days, drinking only her tears and the morning dew until one day her limbs became rooted to the soil and she became a heliotrope—always gazing at the sun.”

Grace stared at her. “She became a flower?” She shook her head. “How did I not know of that?”

“I’m certain you would have if she had turned into a fern or a liverwort.” Mr. Yardley smiled.

Lady Arabella shook her head and tsked. “How could they believe such things? They were quite uneducated in their thinking. Common sense makes it quite impossible for it to have happened that way.”

Mr. Yardley frowned down at her. “They formed their beliefs based on the knowledge they had, Ari. They did not know the workings of the sun as we do now. We cannot mock or judge them for not using the knowledge we have today. We are learning new things about the world every day. I’m certain there will come a time when people will look at what we believe, and they will think us dim and daft.”

Ari looked at the carpet, her face a deep crimson.

Grace put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s easy to think such things, but you need not feel embarrassed. Many people, even older than you, have thought similar things.”

Lady Arabella looked up at her, but the blush did not fully dissipate. Perhaps it was more about the public correction than the correction itself.

“It looks as though our time is up, and the museum is about to close.” Grace turned toward the exit, not expecting Mr. Yardley to offer his arm to her again.

The ladies took one last look at the statue of Clytie, then turned with a unified sigh.

Grace leaned slightly toward them. “Perhaps we may return another day?”

The girls smiled up at her. “Yes, let’s,” said Lady Evangeline.

Mr. Yardley walked beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. While it was a perfectly normal way for a gentleman to walk, after his previous slight, it felt rather pointed that he was doing it only to emphasize that he had not offered it to her.

They left the British Museum behind and walked out to his waiting carriage.

Grace looked down the street. She could see the rooftop of her townhouse. Must they take the carriage?

She glanced up at him. “It will be much faster if we walk.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Is there an urgency that requires your return home? I promised my sisters that we would stop at Gunter’s for some chocolate.”

He handed her up into the carriage. She settled into the seat next to Lady Evangeline.

The carriage tipped to one side as Mr. Yardley climbed in, bringing her thoughts back to chiseled chests and shoulders. She glanced away, focusing on the view outside her window.

He sat across from them, placing his hat on the bench beside him.

Grace turned and looked at his sisters instead. “I’ve never had chocolate.”

Lady Arabella grinned. “Oh, you’re going to love it.”

* * *

Grace sat properly on the squabs next to Lady Evangeline. Mr. Yardley was on the pavement outside, waiting for the waiter from Gunter’s to come and take their order. Grace hardly knew what to think about the whole exercise. She didn’t know why they could not just go inside the shop and eat. But when she’d asked Mr. Yardley the question, he’d merely said that this way they would not become chilled on the walk.

She glanced over at Lady Evangeline and smiled when she caught the girl watching her. “You impressed me with your knowledge of the Greeks.” She flicked her gaze to Lady Arabella to include her also. Even though she had imparted no knowledge, except how to force a governess to leave her employ. She returned her gaze to Lady Evangeline. “Perhaps you could teach me about several of the myths sometime? My education is lacking in that particular subject.”

Lady Evangeline grinned. “Of course. Unlike Ari, I read them because I enjoy them.” She tilted her head to the side. “I believe I might feel the same about them as you do about plants—or rather ferns,” she corrected herself.

Grace nodded. She wasn’t certain Lady Evangeline knew just how much she loved ferns. Could one relate to the Greek myths as she did to ferns? Grace could not see how it could be so. But she sensed that there must be a fair amount of passion involved for Lady Evangeline. “Then I shall await our first lesson.”

The door opened, and Mr. Yardley poked his head in. “Does everyone want chocolate or—” he looked at his sisters and lifted a brow, “do you want ices? They have orange blossom, lavender, rose, cinnamon, and clove.”

“I know Father said it was too cold for ices, but I wish to try the cinnamon,” Lady Arabella said without hesitation.

Mr. Yardley rolled his eyes at her and then looked at Grace and Lady Evangeline. “I believe I will have chocolate,” his sister said, “if you do not mind.”

He smiled at her. “Not in the least, Evie.” His gaze shifted over. “And for you, Miss Jenkins?”

While she’d never had chocolate, she’d never had an ice either. Would this be her only opportunity? Grace licked her lips. “I suppose I’ll try the chocolate also?” It came out as more of a question than a statement.

He dipped his head. “Wise choice, Miss Jenkins.” It almost sounded as if he knew something she did not. But what did he know?

Grace could see him speaking to a short, thin man with only a few hairs covering the crown of his head. Moments later, Mr. Yardley climbed back into the carriage and settled on the seat. “While it is more enjoyable to eat alfresco in the square, the colder weather allows the ice to stay firm longer.” He eyed Lady Arabella. “And the warmth from the chocolate is more welcoming.”

He kept his gaze on Grace, and she could not help flicking her gaze to him often, checking to see if he still watched her. What could he mean by it? Finally, he spoke. “How are you liking your Season so far, Miss Jenkins?” He paused before saying her name as if he had to think about what it was. He did that more times than not when speaking to her. It was rather unnerving. If she could be so utterly forgettable to a gentleman she’d known for more than a decade, how would the gentlemen she met at gatherings ever remember her? How would she ever secure an advantageous match?

She cleared her throat. She could think on that conundrum later. He had asked her a question, and it was already bordering on rude for how long she’d kept him waiting for the answer. “I’m liking it well enough. I’ve only attended the ball that first night.” She grimaced. “And then my outing with Lord Dunsmore. But I prefer not to think on that anymore.”

He winced, and she was grateful to him for sharing in her disdain. All Philip did was chuckle over it. And Elle just said that things would get better. Why could they not see it as she and Mr. Yardley did? As a disaster?

“We are to attend a musicale tomorrow next. And I confess, I’m quite nervous.” She lifted her hand but dropped it before it got to her mouth. Instead, she twirled the curl at the side of her cheek.

Mr. Yardley tipped his head. “Why? I’ve heard you sing, and you have a lovely voice.”

Her chest warmed, as did her cheeks. He was the best kind of friend. Even if he was too kind to her. “Your claims are too boastful, I’m certain. But what worries me the most is making a fool of myself. What if I sing the wrong note? Or worse still, what if I should trip? I believe it would mortify me to the tips of my toes.”

Mr. Yardley leaned forward and curled his finger to her, beckoning her closer. Was he to share a great secret? She glanced back at his sisters, who merely shrugged.

Grace leaned in as far as she could while still remaining on the squabs. “Yes?”

He leaned so close to her, his nose nearly touched hers. “It doesn’t matter if you sing the wrong note. Or even if you should fall—which you won’t. As long as you hold yourself with confidence, no one will care much. It is when you fall to pieces over it that the gossips will start in on you.”

“Surely that could not be true of a fall?” Grace sat back slightly, unable to fully concentrate on his words while she could smell his shaving soap. It made her feel altogether too heady.

He nodded, still holding her gaze. “Indeed, I am in earnest. In the unlikely event that you should fall while at the musicale, simply stand up, lift your chin high, and square your shoulders. If you walk to the front as if nothing is amiss, you will confuse the gossips long enough that they will not know what to think. And then, once they hear your voice, the fall will be forgotten.”

Lady Evangeline nodded. “It sounds ridiculous, I agree.”

Mr. Yardley darted a look at his sister.

Lady Evangeline flattened her lips in a look of irritation. “But Miles is correct. If you react, no matter what problems arise, it will be far worse than if you pretend nothing happened at all. It’s just the way society is.”

Grace looked from brother to sister. Could they be correct? And why had she not learned such things from Mrs. Bootle? Surely, that was the sort of information a girl should have before she entered society.

Grace nodded. “If you say that is what I should do, then I shall follow your counsel. It should not be too difficult.”

Lady Evangeline gave a sort of smirk. “It’s harder than you’d think—especially if injury occurs. Can you imagine how difficult it is to feign indifference when there is blood dripping from a wound?” She gave a horrified look. “Yet, it is what you must do.”

Grace frowned but nodded. It seemed a rather terrible thing to ask someone to do.

A knock sounded on the door, and it opened to reveal a tray of ices of different colors and shapes. But there were also several cups, and a large pot with a handle sticking out.

Mr. Yardley grinned. “I could not decide between ices and chocolate, so I got a bit of both.” He winked at his sisters, who giggled.

Grace sucked in a breath—torn between jealousy that he had not winked at her and worry that she would need their advice sooner rather than later.

But as she lifted a spoonful of ice to her lips, her worries seemed to fade away in a glorious orange blossom haze.