Page 18 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Eighteen

L ady Evangeline and Lady Arabella stood with Grace on the pavement outside the theater. The Kentwood carriage had been called for, and they need only wait for it to make its way from where it parked down the street.

“I think it best that Lord Wetherby did not act his part as a gentleman,” Lady Evangeline said.

Grace’s brows rose slightly. “Oh?”

Lady Evangeline nodded and looped her arm around Grace’s. “Yes. We shall return to Eaton House and have tea, biscuits, and lively conversation.”

Grace grinned. While Lady Evangeline was younger than herself, she could not help but like her. She was kind and intelligent. And could see the best in people and situations. “As I will need to change my gown, why do we not have our conversation and tea at Bloomsbury Square?”

Both girls lifted their shoulders. “I cannot find the error in that.” Lady Arabella said. “As long as there are biscuits, I do not care in which square I eat them.”

Grace laughed, which had seemed an unlikely occurrence only moments ago. She looked at both girls. “Thank you for seeing me home. I will pay for you both to come again and see the end of the performance.” Grace had no notion how much such a thing would cost. But she would save all her pin money until she had satisfied the debt.

Lady Evangeline waved her words away. “Do not trouble yourself. I was in earnest when I said I was uninterested. Had I not thought Miles and Freddie would tease me about being a child, I would have cried off as soon as the interval began.”

Grace’s brow furrowed. “But you told Lord Wetherby that you thought Miss Chambers’ performance was one of the best you’ve seen.”

Lady Arabella snort-laughed. “That was a complete bouncer. Evie was only trying to put the gentleman in his place.” She looked from side to side and leaned forward. “Indeed, this is the first time either of us has been to the theater.”

Grace could not help but laugh. “But you were so convincing.”

Lady Evangeline shrugged but then lifted her chin regally. “Perhaps I belong on the stage, rather than Miss Chambers.”

The three of them laughed until the carriage came to a stop in front of them. It felt good to laugh. Indeed, since coming to London, Grace had not felt the desire to laugh much.

“I believe that our evening is bound to be far more diverting than if we’d stayed to watch the end of the performance. Do you not agree, Miss Jenkins?” Lady Evangeline asked.

Grace wanted to ask them to call her by her Christian name, but something held her back. Perhaps it was because the last time she’d suggested it, the offer had not been reciprocated, and the friendship had not lasted. Although she was less certain she could call what she had with Lady Haversham a friendship.

She clasped her hands in her lap, and the wetness brought back the evening’s mishap. Grace shook her head. What was wrong with her? How could so many mishaps happen to a single person?

She watched out the window as London passed by and sighed. London at night was her favorite time. The city looked ethereal all lit up with candlelight. The carriage came to a stop outside her Bloomsbury townhouse, and she’d never been so grateful. As the theaters had not yet ended, the traffic had been relatively sparse. And if there was ever a time when she wished for a hasty journey, it was then.

The door opened, and a footman stood on the pavement to hand them out.

They moved to the front door and were greeted by a surprised Lansing. “Miss Jenkins, you’re home ear—” His words cut off when his gaze fell to her gown. “Goodness, Miss. What happened?” He threw the door open wide and motioned them inside.

“It was an accident. But it made it impossible to stay and watch the rest of the production.”

He nodded. “Yes, I should think so.” He looked at Lady Evangeline and Lady Arabella. “Thank you for seeing her home.”

“Lansing, please show Lady Evangeline and Lady Arabella into the Yew parlor. We are to console ourselves for missing the end of the performance with tea and biscuits.”

Lansing smiled, as much as a proper butler did, and dipped his head. “Of course, Miss Jenkins.” He turned to Lady Arabella and Lady Evangeline. “Please, follow me, my ladies.”

Grace walked as far as the second floor with them, where she offered a little wave when they moved away from the staircase. “I’ll quickly change my gown and join you momentarily.” Then she continued up to her bedchambers.

“Mary,” she called as she entered the room.

The girl appeared in the doorway of the dressing room. “Miss, what are you—” Her lips flattened when she saw the stain. “Oh, not again.”

Grace frowned. “I’m terribly sorry, Mary. I can’t explain why this is happening to me. I’m normally not of the clumsy sort.”

“What is it? It looks too light to be wine.”

“No, it’s lemonade.” Grace stared down at the stain. It had dried, leaving it stiff and uncomfortable.

Mary perked up. “Oh, lemonade will be much easier to remove than wine.” She moved over and unfastened the buttons down the back. “Let’s get it off, and I will set to work on it immediately.” Once the gown was off, Mary moved toward the closet. “Shall I prepare your night clothes, Miss?”

Grace shook her head. “No, another gown, please. Mr. Yardley’s sisters escorted me home, and we are to take tea in the Yew Parlor.”

Mary poked her head out. “I’ve asked for a wet towel to wash off your stomach. I’m certain it’s sticky from the spill.”

Grace tugged her chemise from her skin with a grimace. To call it merely sticky was an understatement.

Mary appeared with a gown and clean underclothing. A knock sounded at the door, and a maid appeared with a wet cloth.

“Thank you,” Grace said as she wiped at her skin. It was cold to the touch, but it was worth the chill to remove the lemonade.

“Now, let’s get you dressed so you can visit with your friends,” Mary said as she set about dressing Grace.

* * *

Grace finally entered the Yew Parlor and moved over to the couch where Lady Arabella and Lady Evangeline sat. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Lady Evangeline looked up. “You need not apologize. Indeed, you readied much quicker than I expected.”

Just as Grace sat down, a maid entered with the tea tray. She set it on the low table and curtsied before leaving the room.

Grace poured out. “Lady Evangeline?—”

“Please, call me Evie. I believe we are intimate enough friends that it is acceptable.”

“Yes, I agree,” Lady Arabella said.

Grace grinned widely. “I would like that. And you should call me Grace.” It seemed not all who held a title shared Lady Haversham’s inflated opinion of themselves.

Grace took her teacup and settled back into the couch. She pulled her legs up underneath her skirt and sipped at her tea. “I believe you had the right of it, Evie. This is far more desirable than the theater.”

Ari nodded. “Indeed.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, but Grace did not miss the hooded looks from both Evie and Ari. She was about to mention it when Evie set her cup down. “As I see it, Grace, you’ve quite mistaken your course.”

Grace lowered her cup. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lord Wetherby is not the sort of gentleman you should pursue. If he behaves so poorly while making his addresses, how do you suppose he will treat you once you are wed?” Evie tilted her head to the side. “You deserve a better sort of man.”

Grace rested her saucer and cup on her lap. “But what am I to do? I’ve yet to meet a gentleman of title who is any different from Lord Wetherby,”

Ari leaned forward. “I do not understand why you are so determined to marry a title. There are gentlemen, like Miles,” she flicked a glance at her sister, a smile playing on her lips, “who would treat you as you deserve. Is a title so important?”

Grace bit her lip. Evie and Ari came from the aristocracy. They could never understand why Grace must stay her course. Their father was an earl. They had never struggled for acceptance or even for basic needs such as food and clothing, as Grace’s family had. How could they understand why Grace must marry for status? How could they understand her need for security? They would likely marry for love, while Grace did not have such luxuries.

She lifted a shoulder. “It is not as if I have a choice in the matter. It is simply something I must do, whether or not I wish to.”

Evie stared at her. “Then it does not matter if a gentleman of good standing seeks your hand? You will dismiss him out of turn if he has no title?”

They made it sound so harsh and uncaring. Although she supposed that was the way of it, was it not? Society was harsh and uncaring, and it had taken Grace far too long to realize it. Perhaps she would do the girls a kindness if she enlightened them on that fact while they were still young.

“I’m certain there are those of title who are true gentlemen. I only need to find one of them. That should not be such a difficult task, should it?” She was not trying to challenge them but rather seek their opinion. Was it a fool’s errand she was on?

Evie looked at her, her smile gone, but not replaced by a frown. She looked to be more pensive. “I’m certain there are. But I also know there are true gentlemen without a title with whom you might find a love match. Would that not be more desirable?”

Grace closed her eyes. If only she could consider such an arrangement. She shook her head. “That may be so for others, but love is a luxury I cannot afford.”