Page 33 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Thirty-Three

G race stepped into the entryway of Lady Fleetwood’s townhouse in St. James Square. It was a lovely home. Perhaps older than those of Grosvenor or Berkeley, but it showed of old money. The furnishings were of the latest fashion and style, as if it had only recently been redone.

Elle and Philip stepped up behind her. “It’s a lovely home, is it not?” Elle asked.

Grace nodded, her gaze still taking in every arch and brushstroke on the muralled ceiling.

“Follow me to the parlor,” a footman said.

Walking quietly down the corridor, he led them into a large room filled with tables and chairs. Several games were already underway.

Without realizing it, Grace swept the room with her eyes, searching for—she paused. Miles. He was there. She smiled before she thought better of it.

“Oh, Dearest. Did you know Mr. Yardley would be in attendance?” Elle asked her husband in a bit too innocent a voice.

Philip tapped his lips with his finger. “I don’t recall discussing it with him.” He looked down at Grace. “Would you prefer to leave?”

Grace shook her head. “No. It’s not as if I hate him.” Indeed, she was so conflicted about him, she could hardly think of anything else.

He must have sensed her gaze on him because he turned, and their eyes locked. He smiled tentatively.

She returned his smile. It all felt so foreign. When had they ever not been at ease with one another?

He said something to the men he was with, Lord Weymouth, Lord Finsbury, and another man. Grace felt certain she’d met him before, but it was at the beginning of the Season, and she could not remember his name. She shrugged it off. Or she did until Miles and the gentleman moved in their direction.

Her heart thudded harder with every step they took. But she wasn’t certain if it was for Miles or the men with him and the ominous feeling she got from them.

They stopped in front of her, and Miles dipped his head. “Jenkins, Mrs. Jenkins. It’s a pleasure to see you this evening.”

Philip smiled as he always did. Nothing seemed to fluster him. Although that might be because he did not have the same conflicted feeling toward Miles that she did.

“Miss Jenkins?”

Grace jerked to attention when she felt the nudge in her side. Elle gave her a pointed look.

Grace turned to Miles. “I beg your pardon?”

He smiled, but it did not reflect in his brown eyes as it usually did. “I wished to introduce you to my friends, Edmund Langford, the Earl of Stanhope. And Nicolas Finsbury, Baron Finsbury.”

Grace dipped a curtsy. An earl? Why was Miles introducing her to an earl? Why was he introducing her to anyone at all?

“I believe they are just what you’re looking for, Miss Jenkins.” He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear.

It stabbed at her heart that he had reverted to calling her Miss Jenkins again.

“Both men are everything you want. They’re titled, have fine reputations, and above all, they’re kind.” He emphasized the last word.

Her throat tightened painfully, causing her to only smile as she curtsied. The proper greeting was stuck for the time.

“I promised you I would introduce you to respectable men. And I intend to do just that. Stanhope and Fin are the finest of men. But if they are not to your liking, there are others to fit the bill.”

She looked up at Miles, her brow creasing. What was he doing? She might have wished for him to do this early on but something had changed. She could not pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but she did not want just any reputable man with a title. Indeed, she did not even want a title anymore. She wanted Miles. She released a regretful sigh. But Miles was not to be hers. No matter what her heart was telling her. Tears blurred her vision, but she pushed them back. Lawks. How had things become so complicated?

She finally found her voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, my lord.” She looked to Lord Stanhope. “I believe we met once before, did we not? At the Haverly’s ball in March?”

Lord Stanhope smiled, and under different circumstances, she might have found him handsome and charming. “Indeed, I believe we did. I’d hoped to become better acquainted,” his gaze flicked to Miles, “but I believed someone else had earned your affections. I’m pleased to learn that is not the case.”

The tightness in her throat nearly undid her. She looked at Miles. “And this is what you want?” She whispered.

He shrugged. “It’s not about what I want, Miss Jenkins. It’s about what you want.”

Grace’s lips quivered, but she tried to smile past it. She looked at Lord Finsbury. “My lord, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Indeed, Miss Jenkins. I feel the same way.”

“Might we partner together for a few hands, Miss Jenkins?” Lord Stanhope lifted his arm to her.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She allowed him to lead her toward a table in the center of the room, but she could not help taking a quick look over her shoulder at Miles.

The look of pain and disappointment on his face must surely mirror her own.

* * *

Grace sat in the morning room, staring out at the garden. While the arrangement of the plants was not as she’d have done, it had given her several ideas to take back to the garden at Graystone. She sighed. If only they could return sooner, rather than later. London and the Season had lost its appeal.

Elle entered and sat down next to her. “Good morning, Grace.”

She smiled at her sister-in-law. “Good morning, Elle. I trust you slept well?”

Elle lifted an indifferent shoulder. “Well, enough, I suppose. Although I find I have some concerns which are affecting my sleep.”

Grace turned concerned eyes to her sister-in-law. “Oh? I hope it is nothing too serious. Is there anything I might do to help?”

“Perhaps,” Elle nodded.

Grace scooted closer, placing a hand on Elle’s arm. “I will help in any way I can.”

Elle patted Grace’s hand. “You are my concern, Grace. You do not seem happy.” She paused. “Especially of late.”

Grace sat back. That was not what she had expected. “I’m not unhappy,” she said, even though it was a complete bouncer. She’d never been more unhappy in her life. It would please her to no end to feel as dull as ditchwater again.

“Are you not?” Elle studied her. “I know things with Mr. Yardley did not turn out as you’d hoped initially, but I thought with his introduction to Lord Stanhope and Lord Finsbury, that perhaps your thoughts might have changed.”

“I only wish I understood why Miles—Mr. Yardley did what he did. I cannot think him as unkind as his actions make him out to be.” Grace frowned. As much as she wanted to think him a villain, in her heart, she could not make it happen.

“Do you not know?” Elle asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

Grace frowned and shook her head. “I’m afraid I did not give him the chance to explain. Although I’m uncertain that any explanation can excuse what he did.”

Elle smiled patiently. “I believe in a small way you are partially to blame.”

Grace opened her mouth to disagree, but Elle lifted a hand to stop her.

“Can you not see he did it for you? While I’ll admit, it was a rather backward attempt, I believe he did it all to win your heart.”

“How could introducing me to unkind gentlemen win my heart?” Grace did not hide her exasperation. It seemed to her the most unlikely of suggestions.

“Grace, Mr. Yardley is in love with you. You seem to be the only one not to have noticed. He introduced you to those men, hoping you might see him…see the kind of man he is—or is not, as the case may be.”

Grace shook her head. “He does not love me.”

Elle tapped her lips with her fingers. “Why did you never tell us he proposed to you last year?”

Grace shrugged. “He only asked because he could see the advantages of the alliance. And I knew I had to choose better. It is my responsibility to raise our family’s standing in society. I could not do that with marriage to a mere barrister.”

Elle scowled at her before turning her gaze to the ceiling, as if she were trying to harness all of her patience. “That sounds like Miss Martindale’s words, not yours.” That seemed rather unkind, if Grace were being honest.

“Where did you get that silly notion?” Elle asked.

Grace sat back. Silly? That was a harsh assessment of her selflessness. “Exactly which notion is so silly?” She asked with a touch of offense in her tone.

“Indeed, all of it.” Elle said, and she sounded angry. Or perhaps annoyed. “But let’s start with the idea that it’s your responsibility to raise the family’s station.”

Grace folded her arms across her chest. “Lady Haversham pointed out—” she pressed on when Elle opened her mouth to protest any comments about her former acquaintance. “While I know much of what she told me came to naught, in this case, I agree with her. If I am fortunate enough to marry a baron or a viscount, it will bring respectability to the rest of the family. Mama and Papa will be taken care of. And it will be a boon to Philip’s stables. You cannot discount that as silly, Elle.”

Elle nodded. Did that mean she understood? “While I understand your reasoning, I cannot say it’s sound.”

“It’s not sound to wish to raise our family up?” Grace’s anger was rising. Miss Martindale may have been in error in many things but surely that was not one of them.

“What’s not sound is your belief that our family needs raising.” Elle’s voice had an edge to it. “Philip’s stables are doing exceedingly well. Word of them is traveling to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. Indeed, he has been invited by the Prince Regent to race two horses at Royal Ascot in August. You need not raise our standing. Our standing is just fine, I thank you.”

Grace opened her mouth and then shut it. Was that the truth? How had she not heard? “But?—”

Elle sucked in a slow breath and then put a hand on Grace’s arm. “It’s selfless of you to put yourself upon the altar of society and sacrifice your own happiness for the good of us all. But it’s unnecessary.” She pressed on. “You’ve been made to believe that your family is lesser, which makes you lesser, too. But it’s not true.”

Grace swallowed. Had Lady Haversham been correct about anything? Had she led her astray on purpose or had she been mistaken also? A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Could she have wished for Grace’s failure from the beginning? She would not have thought it before, but now? She could not completely discount the notion.

“If you are fortunate to fall in love with a man of title,” Elle cut through Grace’s thoughts, “then all the better. But you need not cast aside someone without a title—a gentleman who might truly make you happy—just for a misguided notion.”

Grace pulled her lips between her teeth. Could it be true? Could she be free from the burden that had been weighing her down?

“And the notion that you could do better than Mr. Yardley is quite the stupidest thing I’ve heard.” Elle looked quite affronted. “However, if I’ve misread your feelings and you do not love him, then I apologize, and I’ll do whatever is in my power to see you happily situated with Lord Stanhope or Lord Finsbury or anyone else you set your sights on.”

Grace paused. “Lord Stanhope seems to be everything agreeable. He is attentive and kind, but he—” Grace sighed.

“He isn’t Mr. Yardley?” Elle asked.

Grace nodded. “Oh, Elle. What am I to do now? I have made Miles feel as though I can never forgive him. How am I to fix that?” It seemed pointless to call him Mr. Yardley when Elle obviously knew how Grace felt. It was silly to pretend there was not an intimacy there. Or pretend that she didn’t want it. She shrank back slightly. “Are you certain about his feelings? When he proposed last year, he mentioned nothing of love. Only of the advantages for both of us.”

Elle reached forward and pulled the comb from Grace’s hair. “Did you not say this was a present from Lady Evangeline and Lady Arabella?”

Grace shrugged. “They are the ones who gave it to me. But I’ve suspected all along that it was really from Miles. Indeed, when I mentioned it to him, he did not deny it.”

Elle ran her fingers over the comb. “You realize this isn’t faux tortoise shell, do you not?”

Grace looked at the comb. “Are you certain? I believe it might be a very fine bone.”

Elle shook her head. “I’m quite certain it’s real.” She looked up. “Only a man in love would spend that sum of money for a gift.” She sighed. “But you need not rely upon that. It’s in his features every time he looks on you.”

Grace pulled the comb back to her reverently. If Elle was correct and the comb was real tortoise shell, did that change things? Did he look on her with the gaze of a man in love? “What am I to do?”

Elle took Grace’s hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. “Gracie, I love you as much as I could a blood sister. And I only want you to be happy. If Mr. Yardley will make you happy, then you should go get him.” She sighed. “The Calderwoods’ ball is tomorrow evening. I think it a perfect time for you to speak with him. Tell him how you feel and see if he does not love you back.”

Grace sucked in a shaky breath. Could she do it? Could she open herself up like that? What if he rejected her? After all, had she not rejected him? Her hands shook, but she realized it was not because she thought he would reject her. She knew he was not the kind of man to seek revenge.

No, the shaking must surely be in anticipation of asking the man she loved to forgive her.