Page 29 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

M iles stood on Grace’s doorstep, a large potted fern in his hands. He could scarcely see through its thick foliage. He balanced it on his hip as he dropped the knocker several times and then stepped back. What was he doing bringing her a fern? Who did such a thing?

The door opened before Miles could change his mind and pretend he’d never come by.

“Mr. Yardley?” There was a question in Lansing’s voice. Not that Miles could blame him. The butler had likely never seen such a ridiculous offering.

“Yes, Lansing. It’s me.” He lowered the pot so he could see over the tops of the fronds. He smiled. “Is Miss Jenkins at home?”

The butler eyed the plant but nodded. “Please follow me, sir.”

Miles stepped inside, regret clawing at his stomach. He followed the butler down the corridor until they stopped at the morning room doors.

Lansing stepped inside. “Mr. Yardley is here to see you, Miss.”

“Oh, please show him in, Lansing.” He smiled at the sound of her voice.

It was short-lived, however, as he remembered he was carrying a fern.

Miles stepped through the doorway and bowed. Taking in a faceful of fronds, he gave a small sputter.

Grace gasped. “Good Heavens, Miles.” She stood, staring at him and his feathery looking friend.

Botheration! How had he thought the fern a good idea? Grace was looking at him as if he were near bedlam. And perhaps he was.

He moved over to the corner and placed the fern on a sideboard. Turning back toward Grace and Mrs. Jenkins—who he only then noticed—he offered a weak smile. “I, uh, saw it while at the Soho Bazaar. I didn’t buy it at first but went back for it later.” Why was he telling her the whole of this?

“Why did you not buy it?” Grace prompted.

Miles frowned. Was it not obvious? “Because one does not buy someone a fern. It simply isn’t done.” He flicked his gaze to the fern again. What had he been thinking? “Although there were also parrots and monkeys, so I supposed it could be worse.”

“No!” Grace nearly shouted with wide eyes. “No monkeys.” But then her face settled into a grin. “I could see your reaction if you had brought the monkey. But a fern?” She walked over to the plant. Gently running the lacey frond through her hand, she turned excited eyes on him. “You may bring me a Maidenhair fern any day. She is lovely, is she not?”

“Yes, I thought so as well—wait, did you just call it a ‘she’?” He stared at her, his brow creasing. Was this a feature of ferns she had not told him about? “How do you know it is—a ‘she’?”

Grace smiled. “Could anything this dainty be a ‘he’?” She shook her head.

“I think not.”

“How did I not think of that?” He grinned.

“I have no notion. It seemed perfectly obvious to me.” She shrugged. “Does she have a name?”

Miles shook his head. “The man I purchased her from did not mention a name.” He’d mentioned very little, in point of fact.

“That’s rather curious, is it not?” Grace smiled pertly at him.

Miles motioned to the plant. “Perhaps you could name it?—”

“Her,” Grace corrected.

He laughed. His earlier reservations about the gift subsided. “I beg your pardon. Perhaps you could name her yourself.”

“I think she looks like a Lady Venetia. Do you not agree?” Grace looked at him as if he should have already guessed the name.

Miles squinted at the plant. “I’ve never actually considered it.” He shrugged and nodded. “But it seems as good a name as any.”

“Of course it is. The Maidenhair is named after Venus, the Greek goddess of love.”

He leaned toward her, looking at her with suspicion. “I thought you knew nothing of the Greeks?” He flicked his brows upwards.

“I know very little. Only that which pertains to ferns.” Grace eyed him with a raised brow. “Miles, if one does not buy someone a potted fern, why do I now have a Maidenhair in my sitting room?”

Yes, why did she? Why had he thought to buy her one? Apart from the fact he knew she would love it—he could not seem to stop buying her things in the hopes it would ease his conscience. Indeed, after the things he’d heard people saying about her at the Trowbridge dinner party, he had vowed he would confess his part in her accidents. But he could not show up and confess empty-handed, could he?

He shrugged. “I simply could not stop thinking about how much you would love it.” Even he did not completely believe his words. “Although now that I am here with it, I can see how absurd that is.” He turned toward the fern. “I shall return it.”

“Please, don’t.” Grace reached out a hand to stop him. “You were right. I adore it.” She sighed. “Besides, I’ve already named it. How can you take it back after that has happened?” She looked pertly at him.

Lud, he adored her . He only wished he deserved her.

A cough sounded from the settee, and both Miles and Grace turned to see Elle standing awkwardly near the couch. “Perhaps I should move to the chair in the corner.” She watched both of them, a knowing look in her eye. “I believe the two of you need a bit of privacy.”

Grace laughed nervously.

Miles clasped his hands behind his back to keep his nerves at bay. “Your sister-in-law is correct. There is something I’ve wished to speak to you about.” His throat caught from the dryness of it. He licked his lips and motioned Grace to the couch in front of the fireplace.

She gently pulled one last frond through her fingers and followed him over, sitting in the chair diagonally to him.

Miles leaned forward, bringing him close enough he could smell her perfume. It was a lovely floral scent, but he had no notion which flower.

She looked at him expectantly.

He looked at her, but then lost his nerve and looked away. He needed to confess to her. Was it not good for the soul? Surely a vicar somewhere had said such things. He looked at everything but her.

It was not like them. They were usually perfectly at ease with one another. But it would not be so once she discovered his role in the accidents. And worse, when she discovered what he thought of the gentlemen he’d introduced to her. Perhaps he should focus on one ill-advised mess at a time.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. “Grace, there is something I wish to tell you.”

Grace looked at him with a nervous, albeit kind, smile. Lud, she was too good for the likes of him. He deserved everything she would say to him.

Miles tugged on his earlobe. “I’ve wanted to speak to you about this for several months now, but—” he ran his hand through his hair. He cleared his throat again, and she pulled her gaze back to his face. “I took some ill-advice and, well,” he shook his head. “That is neither here nor there. But I’ve decided I cannot hold my tongue on the matter a moment longer.”

Grace nodded encouragingly.

A bead of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades. Bouncing his leg slightly, his hands jumped up and down between his knees.

“What is it, Miles?” Grace asked, concern etched her face.

Determination filled his chest until he caught her gaze. Then he blinked several times, and a sort of groan-growl sounded in his throat. “You are going to hate me when I tell you what I have done. Indeed, I should secure my beaver now, so as not to delay my departure.” His voice grew so quiet, Grace leaned forward to hear him.

“Miles, I could never hate you.” She shook her head. “You are one of my dearest friends.”

He wished to put his hands over his ears so he need not hear her call him that again. He lifted a hand. “Please, don’t say anymore. I will lose my nerve, and I cannot live any longer with this burden.”

“Miles,” her brow creased deeply. “What is wrong?”

He continued bouncing his legs. “It’s all my fault.” He blurted, and it was as if a weight fell off his shoulders. Zounds, he should have done it months ago.

She frowned. “What is your fault?” She touched her hair instinctively. “The ink was an accident. I already told you I hold no ill will for it.”

He shook his head, and the words tumbled from his mouth. “In truth, they were all accidents. But at my hand.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “Everything that has happened to you this Season? It was my doing.”

Grace stared at him. “What?—”

“The monkey at the Menagerie, the spilled drink at the theater, the tripping at the musicale,” he sucked in a breath. “Even the squirrel in Hyde Park. They were all because of me.” He let out a heavy breath, and his shoulders dropped. He’d done it. He’d confessed—at least to part of it. Slowly, he lifted his eyes and waited for her to order him from the house.

Grace stilled. “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Why would you do all that to me? I thought we were?—”

“Friends.” He nodded fiercely. “We are. I did not mean for them to happen to you, but they were all my doing.” Once he had started, it was as if a dam came loose, and the river flowed freely. “I was the one who kicked the walking stick into the aisle. It was under my seat, and I kicked it to the side in frustration. Not to hurt anyone. By the time I realized my error, it was too late.” He raked a hand over his face. “And I purposely bumped into Wetherby—” He closed his eyes. “But it was my intention that he should wear the lemonade, not you.”

She nodded slowly as the realization seemed to dawn on her. She tipped her head to the side. “But how can you blame yourself for the monkey at the menagerie or the squirrel in Hyde Park? You were not at either of those places.”

“Thunder and turf!” He buried his face in his hands. “I followed you into the menagerie. For reasons I cannot understand or explain, the monkey took to mimicking me. It was a fleeting thought and action, but—” he paused. “That was all it took.” He still had difficulty believing it had happened. Even though he’d thought about it hundreds of times.

Grace fell silent. “Then I’m not cursed?”

His eyes widened. “No, none of it was your fault.”

“Why were you at the menagerie on that day?”

He licked his lips but could not look at her. “I wanted to see you with Dunsmore—see if you enjoyed his company. My intent was to leave as soon as I saw you arrive, but I could not make myself leave.”

Grace sat quietly, staring down at her hands. He was certain dozens of emotions flicked across her face, but he could not see it from his position. “And Hyde Park? How did you know I would be there?”

“I didn’t,” he said emphatically. “That was purely a coincidence. I had no notion you would be there with Marcrum at the precise moment I was exercising my horse.”

“That does not explain the squirrel…” she trailed off, looking rather wary, which he could not say he blamed her. He’d be wary of him too.

“It was a pebble. I knocked the squirrel from the tree.” Gads, it sounded so much worse when he said it aloud. “I would never have thought I could have such an accurate aim.”

At her sharp intake of breath, he grimaced.

“I only wanted to scare it into moving above the carriage so it would distract Marcrum. Perhaps jump into his lap. But,” he released a heavy sigh. He had enjoyed his time with her the last few months. At least he’d have that to remember in the coming years. He shook his head and sighed. “Nothing went according to plan this Season.”

“You had a plan involving monkeys and squirrels?” she asked.

“No. They were all conceived in a moment’s whim.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder. “Then the fern was not simply a gift you knew I would like. It was to ease your conscience?” It sounded slightly accusatory, not that he blamed her. She was not so far off the mark.

He shook his head. “Not exactly,” he stammered.

“The book, the hair comb—” she gave him a knowing look—“the bolts of fabric…they were all just guilt gifts?”

“No. I bought them because I knew you would like them.” It was not a lie. It was just a half-truth. “Please, Grace. I never meant for you to be hurt. The men you were with? Perhaps I wished them injured slightly. Or just subjected to indignity.”

She sat quietly for a moment. “But why? I can see no reason why you would do such things.”

“It was bacon-brained of me, but I wished for you to think ill of them, hoping you might not come to care for them.”

She blinked several times. “It’s rather ironic, really. Those accidents were not what formed my opinion of the men. Indeed, they were all so unpleasant, I’d already decided about them before most of the incidents occurred.”

Miles took in a barely restrained breath. Perhaps if he’d known that before—he shook his head. No, he could not place this at Grace’s doorstep. It was all his doing.

She tilted her head to the side. “I wish you would have told me from the beginning.”

He nodded. “I should have. My only excuse is that I’m a coward. I feared you would end our friendship, and I could not endure the thought of that.” Lud, now she had him referring to them as friends.

She swallowed, then reached forward and squeezed his arm with a smile. “Thank you for telling the truth at last, Miles. I’d nearly convinced myself that I was cursed.”

“Only with my friendship,” he gave her a rueful smile.

She sucked in a slow, thoughtful breath. “Then all is forgiven.”

“I’ll take my leave immed—,” he paused and looked up at her. “What did you say?”

She smiled, and he knew he did not deserve it. “I forgive you. I’m certain you did not mean for any of those things to happen to me. You're too good a friend to wish me ill.”

“Thank you.” He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. While he felt marginally better, he knew there was more to say. But he held back. She’d forgiven him. And that was not likely once she discovered everything. He flicked a glance to the long clock. “I interrupted your tea, which is surely cold. I shall take my leave before you change your mind and decide to hate me forever.”

“I could never hate you, Miles.” Grace whispered. “And I’m sorry at first I thought you meant to hurt me. I know you better than that.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “You need to apologize for nothing,” he closed his eyes for a moment. He did not deserve her. Even if Freddie’s plan worked, he should not have her.

Bowing to her and then over in the corner to Mrs. Jenkins, he swept his arm wide. “Good day, ladies.” He turned on his heel and left the room. Once in the corridor, he stopped and put his hand to his brow. Lud, how had he come to be this sort of man?