Page 24 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

L ord Marcrum and his mother sat in the forward-facing seats, looking for all the world as if they were the king and queen themselves. The top was down on their carriage, allowing them to be seen. They must have entered the park from the Hyde Park Corner entrance. The carriage moved along the path toward the Ring, Marcrum looking very pleased as they did.

Miles grunted and backstepped his horse out of view. It would not do for them to see him. They would likely think he was there to spy on them.

He moved out from behind the trees and followed along behind for a few rods. He was not spying, he told himself. He was simply making his way back to the Grosvenor Gate. Yes, that was the way of it. He was on his way out of the park to see his sisters.

“Mr. Yardley? Is that you?” A high-pitched call came from a nearby carriage coming from the opposite direction. Miss Edith stood up and waved. Miles grunted, even as he glanced at Marcrum’s carriage. Had he and Grace heard her call? Blast it! If she did not quit making such a scene, the whole of London would know he was there.

He tipped his hat, but did not reply nor make any attempt to stop and chat with her. Since he’d danced with her at Lord Haverly’s ball, the girl had cast her sights on him. As a second son of an earl, he had apparently passed her qualifications. Miles snorted. Marriage was something that would never happen between them…and not only because he refused to have Mrs. Courser as a mother-in-law.

Turning Rhadamanthus toward a small grouping of trees, he tied him up. He would stay back so Marcrum and Grace could move away. And then Miles could slip out of the park without them seeing him.

He slid out of his saddle and patted Rhadamanthus on the neck. But he could not help but glance over his shoulder. He could still see Marcrum’s carriage. It stopped as they spoke to someone going the opposite way. Who were they speaking to?

Miles moved to a tree farther down the lane, taking care to keep from sight. It looked to be Lord Hastings, with a woman young enough to be his daughter. The gossips claimed he was looking for the next Lady Hastings, perhaps this was the lucky—or unlucky if you knew Lord Hastings well—lady.

Miles strained to hear what was being said, but he was too far away and did not risk coming out from behind the tree to find out. There was a tree next to the lane where Marcrum’s carriage sat, but it would surely put Miles too close. But if he moved to the tree before them, the wind might catch their voices, and he could hear something of their conversation.

Safely hidden, Miles peered around the trunk. The wind was blowing in his direction, but he could only pick up a few scattered words. Country house, ball, card party. None of it made any sense. Not that he cared. He leaned against the tree, still hidden, but within view of the carriage. A movement above him caught his eye.

Miles looked up to see a squirrel running back and forth on the branch of the tree hanging over the open carriage.

He watched it for a moment, his mouth turning up at its antics. How did it keep its footing? Would it not be humorous if it fell on Marcrum’s head? If the fates were playing nice, the little creature would scold Lady Marcrum as she deserved.

He smiled as he shifted slightly, and his foot settled on uneven ground. He looked down at several small pebbles that must have migrated over from the lane.

Bending over, he picked two of them up and rubbed his fingers over the smooth surface to remove the dirt. The pebbles tumbled over each other in his hand.

In thinking about it later, he could not precisely say how the incident came to be. One moment he’d been rubbing them, and the next moment one flew through the air. He could hardly account for it.

The pebble caught the back of the squirrel’s rear foot, setting the poor thing off balance and toppling him from the branch.

Miles’ eyes widened as time slowed to a snail’s pace. The squirrel, with paws working furiously, fell straight down, landing squarely atop Grace’s bonnet.

“Maggots!” He clamped his mouth shut and stepped back behind the tree. Not again. Had he not learned his lesson with the monkey? Animals could not be trusted as allies. His head shook in unbelief. What were the chances such a throw would be successful? If Miles had been trying to knock the squirrel off the branch, he could never have achieved such precision. So why had he then?

Grace let out a scream as the animal scurried down to her shoulder. It ran along her arm. From there, Miles could only guess where it went, as he could not see down into the carriage from where he stood. But her increased screams seemed to indicate the squirrel was nowhere Grace wished it to be.

Marcrum, for his part, made a valiant effort to protect his mother from the savage animal, throwing his body in front of her and flailing his arms. It was not until Lord Hastings’ footman opened the door of Marcrum’s carriage that the scared creature made its escape back into the parklands.

“It was surely your hair that incited the animal’s anger,” Lady Marcrum scolded. “Burty, take us home, immediately.”

“Yes, Mother. Right away.” Marcrum simpered.

Miles hugged his back up to the tree and closed his eyes. What in the name of all that was holy was wrong with him? Why could he not leave well enough alone? Why did it drive him to bedlam to see Grace with another gentleman? Especially the likes of Marcrum?

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Did love make all men do such bacon-brained things? If so, how did men ever end up married? Surely the ladies had more sense.

Berating himself, he made his way back to his horse and rode in the opposite direction, choosing to exit the park through the Tyburn Gate.

He rode down Park Lane, turning once he got to Upper Grosvenor Street. He had said he would visit his sisters, had he not?

He could not help but look over his shoulder constantly, making certain Marcrum’s carriage did not appear and discover him. Lud, he’d become a blight on society. Or rather on Grace. How could he claim to be her friend when all he did was malign her in her goals? There was nothing for it. He was simply a terrible person.

* * *

“What did you do?” Lord Marcrum glared at her. “That wild animal nearly attacked Mother.”

Grace blinked. He could not be in earnest. How could he believe that a squirrel falling from a tree could be anything but an accident?

She closed her eyes. Although he may have had a point. Had she not been the subject of accident after accident since arriving in London? Could it be she had some sort of curse hanging over her? Should she offer a warning to every gentleman who asked to escort her anywhere? It seemed the only person unaffected by her curse was Miles. Although even that did not ring true. Had he not been there for the incident with the ink? She reached up and fingered the short hair at her neck.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she pushed them back. She would not cry in front of this man. And especially not in front of his dragon of a mother. They had not earned her trust. And therefore, did not deserve to be a witness to her despair.

“I told you this was not a sound idea, Burty. She is only a Miss after all.”

Grace wished to point out that any daughter of the viscountess or Lord Marcrum would also be a Miss, but she refrained.

“And while I don’t remember the whole of it, I know there was a scandal surrounding the sister-in-law. I would not be surprised if the whole family is tainted in some manner.”

Grace swallowed. “My family is not tainted. And my sister-in-law is one of the best people I know. I beg you not to speak of her again.” She could allow them to disparage her, but not Elle…or her family.

Lady Marcrum’s mouth dropped open. “You think to speak to me in such a manner? Such impertinence is quite beyond my experience.”

That was a notion Grace found difficult to believe. But she kept those opinions to herself and simply smiled and murmured, “Thank you, my lady.”

She kept quiet for the rest of the drive back to Bloomsbury Square, watching others as they seemed to enjoy their afternoon. Never had she been so jealous of complete strangers.

When the carriage pulled to a stop in front of their Bloomsbury townhouse, the footman opened the door. Grace did not wait for Lord Marcrum to step down and hand her out—she knew enough of him already to know he would not—allowing the footman to help her instead. She curtsied toward Lord and Lady Marcrum, only as a matter of expectation rather than respect. “Thank you for the drive, my lord.”

He sniffed, and Lady Marcrum rapped on the side of the carriage with nary a word.

As the carriage disappeared around the corner, Grace’s spine weakened, and she hunched over. What had ever made her think this Season was a sound idea?

When her outing with Lord Dunsmore had gone wrong, she’d allowed herself to think it was a singular event. She’d even brushed aside the accident at the musicale as simply unfortunate. But then there was the lemonade and now a squirrel? How did one justify those away? At what point did she accept that there was something wrong with her?

The tears she’d been holding back let loose, and one slipped down her cheek.

The clip-clop of horse hooves sounded, and she glanced down the street. She swiped at the tear with the back of her hand as the corners of her mouth tipped up. The familiar face was like a reprieve from the storm. “Mr. Yardley?”

He reined in his large brown horse and tipped his hat to her. “Miss Jenkins, what are you doing standing out on the pavement?”

“Lord Marcrum just deposited me after our outing in Hyde Park.” She tried to infuse excitement into her voice. But it came out sounding only slightly despondent.

He squinted. “Have you been crying?”

She swiped at her cheek. “No, no. It is likely just something in my eye.” That something was tears, but she could not admit as much to him.

He swung down from his horse. “Did you not have an enjoyable time?”

She bit her lip. It was not proper to speak despairingly of another person. Especially of a peer. “I do not think Lord Marcrum, or his mother for that matter, approved of me.”

Miles looked flabbergasted. “They disapproved of you? What could they possibly find lacking?” He walked toward the mews, and she fell into step next to him.

“I believe they found fault with nearly everything.” She sighed. “I ignored the flaws they pointed out in me. But when they turned their judgments on Elle, I’m afraid I spoke too frankly. It took Lady Marcrum aback.”

He dropped his head back and laughed. “I should think more people should speak in such a manner. Perhaps the woman would not be so high in the instep.”

Grace shrugged, feeling completely at her ease for the first time since Lord Marcrum blackened her doorstep. It was odd, but Miles was the only person outside her family that she felt comfortable enough to relax around. She felt not the need to put on airs or act in a manner that was more expected than her true nature.

He looked down at her and smiled. “Would you care to take a turn with me, Miss Jenkins? Or do you have another engagement?”

She shook her head. “I had thought my outing with Lord Marcrum would take most of the day. But I find my afternoon is now free.”

Miles grinned. “Have you explored Bloomsbury Square, yet?”

She nodded. “Indeed, I like to walk around the park.”

He tapped his chin. “What of Red Lion Square?”

She shook her head. “I have not seen it yet.”

“Why do we not inquire after a chaperone, and then we may be off.” He motioned her to the back entrance. “Unless you are too spent.”

“I should enjoy a turn after the afternoon I’ve had.” She opened the door in the wall—the only place without honeysuckle growing upon it—and they stepped into the back garden.

They walked along the path and entered the house through the morning room. Elle sat in a chair with a book in her lap. She looked up and smiled, but her brow creased when she saw it was Grace. Confusion slid across her features as her gaze landed on Miles. “Grace,” she put her book aside, “what are you doing home so soon? And why are you coming through the back door with Mr. Yardley?”

“Mr. Yardley found me on the pavement where Lord Marcrum deposited me.” She likely should use a different word to describe being returned by Lord Marcrum, but ‘deposited’ seemed to fit what had happened most accurately.

“But why did he return you so early? You could not have had much time in Hyde Park.”

“Indeed, we did not even drive the length of the park before he turned his carriage and brought me home.”

Elle was an intelligent woman, and Grace could see as the pieces fit together in her mind. “He found you undeserving?”

A lump formed in Grace’s throat. It was harder to dismiss when the notion came from someone else. She nodded.

“Was it your hair?” Elle’s gaze turned hard. “It was not the scandal Lady Marcrum believes she remembers about my family, was it?”

“It was likely a culmination of many things, but I believe the squirrel falling into the carriage was the nail in the coffin. He placed that incident squarely at my feet.” She lifted a shoulder. “Although considering all the accidents I’ve had since arriving, I have difficulty defending myself from that accusation.”

Miles was uncharacteristically quiet next to her. Was he embarrassed by his friend’s actions? Knowing Miles, that was likely the cause.

Grace had often wondered at the men Miles had introduced to her. They did not seem to have anything in common with him. None of them were kind. And they all thought themselves far above everyone—and especially her. Neither trait had she ever witnessed in Miles. While she could not say she knew the gentlemen well, she could not find anything in their character that spoke to what he saw in them as friends.

He finally spoke behind her. “He did not like your hair?”

Grace untied her ribbons. Perhaps if he saw it for himself, he would understand better. But she paused before lifting the bonnet off. What if he abhorred it also? She wasn’t certain she had the fortitude to bear Miles’ disapproval.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. But he could not be so unkind, could he? It was not in his nature. She pulled off the bonnet, expecting a gasp from him.

But he uttered not a sound. Indeed, a smile covered the whole of his face. He lifted a hand but dropped it just before he touched her hair. “What is there not to like about it? I think it very becoming. Especially on you, Grace.” His eyes widened, and his smile dropped. “I beg your pardon for my familiarity, Miss Jenkins.”

Grace smiled. Would this not mean she could call him Miles? But he had not given her leave to use his Christian name. “I believe we are well enough acquainted, Mr. Yardley, for you to use my Christian name when we are in private.”

He smiled. “Then I see no reason for you not to call me Miles.” His gaze flicked to Elle, and Grace startled. Lawks, she’d nearly forgotten her sister was in the room.

She looked at Elle. “Mr. Yardley?—”

Miles cleared his throat next to her.

“Miles,” she corrected. She rather enjoyed using his Christian name aloud. She liked it so much that she repeated it a second time. “Miles asked if I might take a turn about Red Lion Square. Do you have any objections?”

Elle shook her head as she stood up. “None at all. I shall fetch my bonnet and come along. Unless you’ve made other arrangements?”

Miles dipped his head. “We would welcome your company, Mrs. Jenkins.”

Grace’s stomach toppled end over end. She would rather go on the walk with Miles alone, but she knew that could never happen. She frowned. They could go alone if she’d accepted his proposal last year. But she could not dwell on that. She’d had her reasons for declining his offer. And she could not second-guess her decision. Nothing had changed since then.

She pulled her lip between her teeth. Perhaps that was not altogether true. She had not felt the pull toward Miles last year that she did now. But that was neither here nor there. She had a responsibility to fulfill, and she could not allow a fluttering heart and jumpy stomach to deter her.