Page 27 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

E xcitement bubbled up inside Grace as she stepped out of the carriage in front of Lord Trowbridge’s Harley Street townhouse. But the excitement could not diminish the anxiety hovering about her neck and shoulders. This was the first event they’d been invited to on their own merit. Neither Miles nor Lord Weymouth had used their influence to secure the invitation. Indeed, that honor fell solely on Philip. He’d met Lord Trowbridge at Tattersalls, and they had struck up a conversation which led to the invitation.

And, more importantly, it was the first event she’d attend with her short hair. She lifted her thumb to her mouth but nothing came of it. Long gloves protected her nails.

They all exited the carriage, and the twisting of Grace’s stomach increased. Would Miles be there? With all the events and parties London offered, it seemed a dim prospect. Grace sighed. She knew she’d feel better if Miles were close by.

The door opened, and the butler motioned them inside.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. And Miss Jenkins.” Philip said.

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins. You are all on the guest list.”

Philip’s posture relaxed ever so slightly. Grace may not have even noticed had she not been standing behind him.

Once they deposited their wraps with a footman, they followed the butler through a saloon before stopping just inside the door of a parlor.

As she waited for the butler to announce them, she took the chance to look around. The ceiling curved inward as it met the walls. Golden plaster swirls and sunbursts adorned it. Yellow and gold wallpaper covered every wall, broken up by dozens of gilt-framed portraits. The look was not what Grace would choose, but it was tastefully done.

Lord and Lady Trowbridge stood at the door, greeting everyone as they entered.

“Mr. Jenkins,” Lord Trowbridge boomed as they approached.

Philip smiled widely and nudged Elle forward. “My lord, may I introduce my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Jenkins. And this is my sister, Miss Grace Jenkins.”

Grace and Elle curtsied in unison. Lord Trowbridge smiled amiably, but his wife seemed less than pleased with the introduction. Had Philip not done it correctly, or was it the associations the lady was unhappy with? Did she know of Grace’s penchant for unfortunate accidents? Grace bit the side of her cheek. If her misfortunes damaged Philip’s business, she would never find peace with herself.

“Ah, you are very welcome.” Lord Trowbridge seemed to have only one level of volume. Booming. But his bright blue eyes twinkled. His manner was self-assured, yet genial, and he surely had many friends because of it. At first impression, Grace found nothing to dislike about him.

The same, however, could not be said of his wife. She did nothing but look down her nose at them, and she could not seem to take her eyes off Grace’s hair. The lady was much younger than her husband. If Grace had to make a guess, she would say there were at least twenty years between them. The lady was likely not much older than Elle.

“Do come in and sit down. I’m certain there are others of your acquaintance here.” Lord Trowbridge nodded toward the couch. “Did I not see you speaking with Mr. Turnsby at Tattersalls yesterday? And Lord Boxler is here too. I know you have an acquaintance with both men, as they speak highly of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Philip beamed. He had not looked so pleased since he announced his engagement to Elle. He’d worked nearly a decade to gain such a reputation. He should be pleased by it.

Grace looked around the room, hoping to see a familiar face. She was disappointed to recognize Lord Allington. He dipped his head to her, but it was so slight no one else would have noticed. Was he distancing himself from her? She could not say that it bothered her in the least.

Philip escorted them over to a cluster of seats at the far end of the room.

“Ah, Jenkins,” an older man with graying hair stood and patted Philip on the shoulder. “Good to see you. It pleased me greatly when Trowbridge mentioned you’d be among the guests.”

“I’m pleased to see you again also, my lord.” Philip introduced Lord Boxler and then Lord Turnsby.

They found seats among the group. Grace sat on a settee next to Elle, while Philip sat among the gentlemen.

“Mr. Yardley, Lord Weymouth, Lord Finsbury, you are all welcome,” Lord Trowbridge’s booming voice carried across the room, and Grace jerked her gaze toward the door.

He had come. Perhaps the fates were not determined to ruin her. Grace’s stomach fluttered. Already her evening was better.

She caught Miles’ eye, and he held it. He stood staring at her for a moment, neither smiling nor frowning. What was he thinking?

Grace lifted a hand to her hair. She tilted her head to the side, her fingers combing through the short strands. Did he still think it suited her?

A slow smile curved his lips. Gracious, she’d never felt so handsome. What she wouldn’t give to read his thoughts.

He started toward her, his gaze never leaving her face.

Lord Weymouth and Lord Finsbury strolled over and leaned against the fireplace, content to continue a conversation that had obviously begun before they entered the room.

Miles walked past them and took the seat next to her. “Good evening, Grace,” he said quietly so no one else would hear. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

She turned to him, unable to keep the grin from her face. Did he know how glad she was to see him? “I was about to say the same thing, Miles.”

He crossed one knee over the other and interlocked his fingers around it. “Perhaps we should coordinate our schedules so we might arrive together next time.”

“Lord and Lady Haversham, welcome.” Lord Trowbridge greeted.

Grace jerked her gaze to the door. Lord Trowbridge’s voice seemed to have lost a bit of its jovial tone. Could it be that the man did not like Lord or Lady Haversham?

Lady Haversham scanned the room with a haughty expression, and Grace leaned in her direction. She stared at the lady, hoping for some sign of recognition. Lady Haversham’s inspection stopped on Grace, and the smile slipped ever so slightly.

Grace sat up taller. While she knew her hope had been in vain, it still hurt to know there was no reciprocation. She sank back into the couch cushions. Why did she still desire the lady’s approval?

Lady Haversham’s gaze did not linger on Grace for long. She skipped her as if they did not have a long-standing friendship. However, the more Grace thought about it, the more she questioned if there had ever been a real friendship at all.

Lady Haversham glided across the room, nodding and dipping her head to those around her.

Grace did not miss the gentlemen rolling their eyes when Lady Haversham passed Lord Weymouth and Lord Finsbury. Neither man seemed overly pleased with what they saw.

Grace chided herself for the thrill it gave her. She was glad to know not everyone thought the lady above reproach.

“Lord Wetherby,” Lady Haversham cooed. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought Lord Dunsmore said you had accepted another invitation.”

Grace had not noticed that those gentlemen were in attendance. She frowned. How had she missed them? Perhaps in her eagerness to find Miles, she had passed right over them.

Wetherby grinned a lazy smile and Grace wondered how she’d ever thought him handsome. “When I learned Lord Haversham was back in Town and planning to attend, I changed my plans at once.” He dipped his head to her. “And I wished to see you, as well, my lady.”

Grace had to keep herself from releasing an exaggerated sigh. What poppycock. Did either of them believe there was any earnestness in their exchange?

“You are too bad, Wetherby. Your acceptance was on such short notice. I’m surprised Lady Trowbridge could accommodate you.” Lady Haversham’s tone held a superior and rather false tone.

Looking back, Grace could not say she’d missed hearing it over the last year. How had she tolerated it for as long as she had? Had she been so dim as to ignore the lady’s slights?

“It was short notice,” Lady Trowbridge stiffened as she came to stand next to Lady Haversham, “but I can make accommodations. It all worked out for the best, Cordelia.”

Cordelia? Was that Lady Haversham’s Christian name? How did it not sound familiar? Had Grace never heard it before?

Lady Haversham stiffened and lifted her chin higher, which Grace had thought an impossible task. “Not everyone here is so intimately acquainted as to use Christian names, my lady.” She narrowed her eyes at Grace.

Lady Trowbridge lifted a brow. “Oh? I had thought you were intimately acquainted with everyone here.” She motioned to Grace. “I believe you know the Jenkinses, do you not? Lord Trowbridge mentioned you hailed from the same village in Somerset?”

Grace instinctively shrank back into the cushions. Why was the lady singling her out?

Lady Haversham raised a brow. “Oh, do we? I’m afraid I do not recall any Jenkinses.”

Grace’s brows rose high on her head, but she said nothing. Elle glanced over at her but remained silent also. If Lady Haversham wished for no one to know of their association, she would not say anything to dispute it. The very thought of their names being linked in the same breath made her inwardly cringe.

“However, I do know Lord Weymouth…and Mr. Yardley.” Lady Haversham’s nose scrunched up when she mentioned Miles. But then she turned toward Grace. “No one of my acquaintance would wear their hair in such a vulgar style.”

Grace reached up and felt the short hair at the nape of her neck. The words were so harsh it took her off guard.

Several ladies in the room chuckled, as did several men—including Lords Wetherby and Dunsmore.

Elle flinched next to Grace.

But it was Miles who spoke. “How fortunate, then, that elegance is not dictated by the length of one’s hair, else, dear lady, you might be compelled to part with yours entirely.”

Lady Haversham’s eyes widened as many snickers sounded from behind gloved hands. Indeed, Grace found it quite difficult to squelch her own.

“Well said, Yardley,” Lord Trowbridge chuckled. He looked at Lady Haversham. “I believe you’ve found a match for your sharp-witted tongue, my lady.”

“Mr. Yardley does not know of what he speaks. The cut of his coat should show that well enough.” She turned on her heel and moved to the other side of the room, pulling her husband along beside her. “Why did you not defend me, my lord?” she hissed before they moved out of earshot.

“I think the cut of your coat is rather dashing,” Grace whispered to him.

Miles turned toward her and smiled. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Never had she been so staunchly defended, and to the wife of a peer, no less. Her mumbled compliment felt woefully inadequate. But what other options did she have at her disposal? “Thank you.” Why could he not have his father’s title instead of Lord Weymouth?

He quirked his head to the side. “It was truly my pleasure, Grace.”

She swallowed hard, the tightening of her throat making it painful. Lawks, she could not cry. Not in front of all these people. And especially not in front of Miles. “You’re a good friend,” she murmured, because the silence asked for something—anything—to fill it.

His grin faltered, and she wondered what she’d said wrong. But seconds later, he was just as he’d been. Perhaps she’d just imagined it. “Good friends are hard to find, Grace. One should do everything they can to keep them close. Do you not agree?”

She nodded and held his gaze until he looked away.

“Dinner is served.” The butler announced from the doorway.

Miles shot up as if he welcomed the interruption. Had he grown tired of her company? Or had she spoken out of turn by telling him how much he meant to her? In looking back, it had been rather untoward of her. She sighed. Why could nothing go as it should for her this Season? As she walked down the corridor, she wondered what was to happen to her at dinner because, as yet, her gown was unaffected. And that was not the way of it for her this Season.