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

Chapter Two

S omerset, November 1816

Never before had knocking at a door felt so…daunting? Serious? Exciting? Perhaps it was all three at once. Which would explain why Miles’ nerves were on edge and his stomach twisted rather painfully.

But such a reaction was silly. He had no reason to feel awkward or out of sorts.

Miles shook his head and readjusted his stance in front of Graystone Manor’s entryway door. It had been more than a year since last he was there, and things had changed. Certainly, he was not the same person he’d been last year. And Grace was surely changed as well. Thankfully, not changed in her marital status as far as he knew—but he should not dwell on that point.

“Are you going to knock, or are we to stand on the portico for the whole of the evening?” Miles’ brother, Frederick, nudged him forward.

“If you are so anxious, why do you not knock?” Miles glared at his brother. But he quickly softened his features. Freddie did not know what had transpired the last time Miles had visited Graystone. Indeed, no one but Grace and her parents knew. Or Miles hoped that was still the case. Although, what had transpired in the year since he fled to Berkshire, he could not say. Perhaps the whole of the neighborhood had been told. But if that were the case, Freddie would know the whole of it, and his brother would not let such an opportunity pass him by. He would have teased Miles to no end about it.

Indeed, Miles did not know how he should feel about his visit. Should he expect awkwardness, at least at first? Surely, the pain in his chest and his knotted stomach would subside. It had been a year, after all. Grace had surely moved past whatever feelings had come from his misguided proposal.

Miles lifted his hand to his chest, the slight crinkle of paper sounding. It was likely unwise to carry her letter with him wherever he went. But he could not seem to stop himself. He told himself it was a reminder. Although, what exactly he was reminding himself of, he wasn’t certain. His ill-spoken proposal? Or that he was unlovable?

Perhaps I could be persuaded to accept your offer if love were involved, but without it, I cannot be prevailed upon.

Lud, those words she had so neatly written still haunted his dreams. But could he be angry with her for stating the truth? She did not love him. If she had, she would have accepted him. Was that not what the letter said?

He swallowed, but it lodged in his throat. Would his feelings cease once he was inside chatting with Philip as he’d done in the past? Or would it only increase when he caught sight of Miss Jenkins?

Miss Jenkins? Gads, who was he kidding? He had thought of her as Grace—quite improperly and unrepentantly—for some time now. He had thought she was to be his wife, after all. And once he started thinking of her in that way, it seemed too difficult to stop.

Not that he was ready to call her by her Christian name aloud. No, he reserved such familiarity for his thoughts and dreams only.

Ah, his dreams. They’d become almost a distraction of late. Which was quite the opposite of what he’d hoped would happen during his time away. It was why he’d squirreled himself away to Berkshire.

Indeed, the average sane gentleman would have taken the rejection and looked elsewhere. But not Miles. He, it seemed, could not resist a losing battle. Or perhaps he was just forever hopeful that she might change her mind. That one day she would awaken and realize she did, in point of fact, love him. Until she married someone else, there was always hope, was there not?

“Lud, Miles. If I wait for you, we will be standing here all night while you wool gather.” Freddie lifted his hand and rapped several times on the door. He took a step back, his head shaking in irritation.

Miles clasped his hands behind him as he waited. A year. He’d thought—perhaps hoped?—that a year away from Somerset would cool his feelings for Grace. But his dreams had eliminated those hopes. Indeed, his feelings for her had only multiplied—like bindweed.

The door opened, and Miles pushed the thoughts from his head. He needed to focus…concentrate. Else he would display his affections all over his face. And he could not allow that to happen. Thankfully, his time at his father’s neighboring estate would be short-lived. They’d celebrate Christmastide, and then Miles could set off for London, where he would see to matters at the bar.

“Good evening, Lord Weymouth. Mr. Yardley,” the housekeeper said as she motioned them inside. “The family is expecting you.”

“And a good evening to you, Mrs. Heaton.” Miles dipped his head.

She smiled ever so slightly at him. Mrs. Heaton was ever one to maintain the proper decorum. She was the best housekeeper for one rising in the gentry.

She led him out of the two-story entry and down the corridor to the parlor, where she opened the door and stepped inside, announcing them.

The whole family stood, and Philip hurried around the settee to greet him. “Weymouth.” He dipped his head to Freddie. Philip and Freddie were on amiable terms. But the men did not have a friendship like Miles and Philip did. “Yardley, welcome. It’s good to see you again.” He clapped Miles on the back with a large grin.

Miles consciously did not search for Grace. It would be too obvious if he did. The awkwardness in the room was already palpable. He needed to keep his head about him if he was to get through the evening unscathed.

“Jenkins, it’s good to see you, too.” Miles looked at the walls near him. Where there had once been peeling paint and paper, it was smooth and clean with fresh paint and paper, the wainscot paneling gleaming.

Miles mentally raised his brows. Jenkins must be doing well for himself. It had taken him years to get his horse breeding business going. And the fact that Graystone had been given to him in near ruin said much for the Jenkins family. But it looked as if they had finally arrived. They were finally living the life of the gentry. “The place looks marvelous. I didn’t think the old girl had it in her.”

Mrs. Jenkins, Philip’s wife, joined her husband. She slipped her hands around his arm. “Oh, she has it in her. It just took determination and hard work to bring it out.” She smiled at Miles. “We are glad you are back, Mr. Yardley. Are you to stay for good?” She directed her question to Freddie also.

Miles shook his head. “No, I’m only here for Christmastide. Then I’m off to London for the Season. I’ve been away from my profession for too long. I have much to catch up.”

Jenkins’ eyes lit. “Ah, it is just as I hoped.”

Miles quirked a brow. “You were hoping I’d quit the country so soon? Really, Jenkins, I thought us better friends than that.”

Philip led Miles and Freddie over to the sofa where Grace—Miss Jenkins, he really should get used to that again—sat next to her mother.

Miles leaned forward and took the older Mrs. Jenkins’ hand in his. “Mrs. Jenkins, I’m pleased to see you again. You are looking very well.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank ye,” she said in her courser tongue. The older Mrs. Jenkins had not adapted to the life of a country estate owner as easily as the rest of the family. “As are you, son.”

He grinned. Both of Jenkins' parents came from the serving class. Mr. Jenkins had been a stable master and Mrs. Jenkins had been an above-stairs maid. But they had both quit the life when Philip took ownership of Graystone.

Miles had liked the elder Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins since their introduction. They both had called him “son,” nearly from the first day. Freddie and Jules, his older brothers, had not thought the familiarity entirely proper. But Miles loved it. It made him feel like one of the family. And since losing his mother and then Jules, Miles had decided one could never have too much family around.

He sat down on the couch and looked over at Gra—Miss Jenkins. “Miss Jenkins. You are also looking well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yardley,” she demurred. She watched him for a moment from beneath her lashes. Was she feeling as awkward about their first meeting as he was? She seemed quieter than when last he’d seen her. But then he’d only been with her for a short time. Perhaps she just had little to say where it regarded him. That thought hurt more than he cared to admit.

He stared at her. Was it possible she had only grown more handsome since last he saw her? He chided himself. Of course, it was. With Grace, anything was possible.

Miles settled into the couch and sucked in a discreet breath. That went as well as he could have hoped. She had not thrown herself into his arms, which was disappointing, albeit not wholly unexpected. But she seemed happy enough to see him. He frowned. Perhaps not happy, per se, but sufficiently diverted? She didn’t look unhappy, in any case.

He looked over at Philip. “You were just telling me how you were happy I was quitting Somerset after the holiday?”

Philip grinned widely. “It is not your leaving that I am happy for but rather that you are going to London. You see,” he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, “I’m to take a dozen horses to sell at Tattersalls. Thanks to Elle’s connections, we are to rent a house in Bloomsbury Square for a very reasonable sum. We,” he looked at his wife, “thought perhaps Grace could have a chance at a Season.”

Miles blinked several times. Grace would be in London for the Season? And in Bloomsbury? It was nearly within shouting distance of his own London residence in Red Lion Square. Indeed, Miles would walk through Bloomsbury if he ever wished to visit the British Museum. He’d walk past her residence several times a week, at least.

He hardly knew what to think. How was the plan to rid his mind of her to be any success if she was in such proximity?

He licked his lips. Or could this prove to be to his advantage? Could it be that under the lights and glitter of the London Season, she might actually see him as a potential suitor? He sat up a little straighter.

Grace—he shook his head, abandoning the effort to call her Miss Jenkins . It seemed that was not to be, at least not in his thoughts.

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “It will not be as grand as most,” she sucked in her bottom lip. “But my dowry is adequate, I think. And with the proper introductions, I hope to secure a fortuitous match.” She glanced over at her mother and father. “One that will benefit us all.”

Miles’ shoulders dropped. Then she was still determined to marry a viscount or a baron. That was what she had said in her letter.

Grace was not so different than every other young woman entering the marriage mart. While most had better family connections, Grace was correct that her dowry would aid her significantly. If Miles recalled correctly, it was six thousand pounds—which was not a small sum. But what Grace had that most of the other young ladies lacked was beauty and charm. No one could match her there.

She would need to be careful of fortune hunters. But if she could secure an advantageous match, it would put her firmly in the path of those who could do the whole family good.

He just wished he was the man to put her on that path. But alas, she had made her wishes quite clear.

He smiled on a sigh. If only he could forego London and return to his estate in Berkshire. It was always in need of his attention, and it would put him far enough away that he would not have to watch Grace with every eligible bachelor in London. But it seemed the fates were not on his side. Again.

* * *

Dinner had been simple but delicious. And the conversation was nothing short of enjoyable, even if Miles’ heart pinched with every glance in Grace’s direction. It would go away soon enough, would it not? He would grow accustomed to seeing her again, and the aches and longing would subside. Perhaps he’d had the wrong of it when he left last year. Perhaps it was overexposure to her that was the cure.

Freddie, Miles, Philip, and the elder Mr. Jenkins walked toward the drawing room. Unlike at other society dinners, the men did not stay back to smoke and drink port. Whether it was because Jenkins was not yet flush enough in the pockets to afford a good port or because theirs was a rather informal affair, Miles didn’t know. And, frankly, he did not care. He didn’t smoke and thought port had far too high an opinion of itself.

The four men approached the drawing room when Philip pulled Miles back. Freddie stopped too.

“I wished to ask a favor of you, Yardley,” Philip said.

Miles lifted his brows. “Certainly. If it’s within my power.”

Jenkins released a breath, as if he’d worried Miles would refuse. “You know Grace better than most.”

Miles’ cheek twitched at the inference. Did Jenkins know about the proposal after all?

Philip gave a lopsided grin. “She does not yet fully understand society and is under the misguided notion that invitations will come simply because she is in London.”

Miles nodded. Ah, yes. Why had he not seen this coming?

But Philip’s wife was the daughter of a viscount and must still have connections in society. Could she not provide the help they needed? Why must they enlist Miles’ help also?

Philip glanced at Freddie and then Miles. He grimaced slightly, as if he knew he was abusing their friendship. “I hoped, with your family’s connections and those of your own, that we might prevail upon you to arrange some invitations for Grace?” His brow creased in worry. “I understand it will not be many, but even if it’s only a card party or a musicale? She has a lovely singing voice, and I believe she could show herself to advantage in such a situation.” He paused outside the drawing room door. “I think her goals in marriage are far too lofty by half. But I believe some gentlemen will find her amiable if they are only introduced to her.”

Miles nodded, trying to look thoughtful rather than panicked. Jenkins was asking him to arrange for Grace to meet other gentlemen? How could he possibly do that from Berkshire? He’d become more convinced than ever that he could not stay in London. “Just an invitation or two?” He asked.

Jenkins nodded. “Yes. Grace makes friends easily enough. There will certainly be a few other invitations issued on her own merit and through Elle’s influence.”

Miles looked over Jenkins’ shoulder into the drawing room. What was he to say?

But, as it turned out, he did not have to say anything. “Of course, Miles will help.” Freddie slapped Miles on the back. “He does not have the connections that I do, but he has some fair prospects. And I’m certain he would not mind in the least, would you, Miles?”

His eyes widened, and he felt as if he were caught in a trap. His response caught in his throat.

He met Grace’s gaze, and she smiled at him. Gads, how could he deny her? “You shall have what aid I may offer. I’m certain I can persuade my father to invite her to something, at the very least.”

Jenkins grinned as his body relaxed. “Thank you, Yardley. I knew I could count on you.”

In a bit of a daze, Miles followed Philip and his brother into the drawing room, where he found himself again on the couch next to Grace. Her mother and sister-in-law were deep in quiet conversation. The Jenkins men and Freddie were discussing what sounded like the expansion of the stables. But Miles paid none of it any heed. He had much more pressing things on his mind.

He stared at a nondescript point on the newly papered wall. Unable to stand the silence any longer, he turned to her. “You must be anticipating the Season?”

Grace smiled. “I am. Although, I confess I’m also quite nervous.”

“You need not be. I’m certain you will be quite the talk of London.” He tilted his head to the side. Had that sounded like he was still interested in her? Perhaps he’d been too adamant about how successful she would be. Only a suitor would express such passion on the matter, surely. He changed his course. “However, the Season can be daunting for the most seasoned of ladies.”

She nodded, but her brow dipped low. “I worry I will be a complete failure. And then what will I do?” She whispered. “Philip is putting out a great deal of money on my behalf. I cannot bear the thought of disappointing him.” She sighed.

“I’m certain he only wishes for you to be happy. If you are, I cannot imagine he’ll begrudge a farthing.”

She shook her head. “No. I must make use of every opportunity to make an advantageous marriage.” She looked anything but excited. Indeed, she looked very nearly worried.

Miles raised his brows, and he almost reached out for her hand to comfort her. Lud, he really must try to control his dreams better. They would surely land him in the briars if he did not.

She let out a small breath. “If Miss Martindale, or rather Lady Haversham, had not promised to introduce me to titled men in society, I should be much more concerned.”

Miles’ shoulders relaxed. “Lady Haversham?” Perhaps she did not need him as much as he had assumed. “I did not realize you were still in contact with her.”

Grace ran her fingers over the seam on the couch cushion. “She has not written in several months. But I’m certain she is busy. As a countess, she has many responsibilities.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and Miles saw a hint of uncertainty.

“Miles will help you if Lady Haversham is unable,” Freddie said from behind the couch.

Miles turned around and stared at him. Who invited Freddie to dinner tonight, anyhow? And why must he keep offering up Miles’ services to help Grace find a match? He narrowed his eyes at his brother. Could it be that Freddie knew about the proposal, and this was his way of making Miles suffer for some unknown reason? “You will help her, will you not, Miles?”

Miles turned back to Grace. She looked so hopeful.

He swallowed and nodded resignedly. “Of course.”

Grace smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Yardley, but I’m certain I will not need your assistance. Lady Haversham was very clear on the matter.”

Miles sank into the cushions. He could not completely rid himself of the worry that his participation would not be needed. Indeed, he did not like the thought of relying on Lady Haversham. In his experience, that lady was most unreliable.