Page 6 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Six

M iles stepped into the entryway of Lord Haverley’s London townhouse. While not wholly convinced that inviting the Jenkinses was advisable, his brother had relented and persuaded the good earl to extend an invitation on Miles’ behalf.

It was the first ball of the Season and, by all accounts, was quite the crush. If Grace were to be a success this Season—which he was uncertain he hoped she would be—Lord Haverly’s was where it would begin.

Normally, Miles cared not for balls and sought the card room early to spend the evening at the tables. However, tonight he thought to dance at least a set or two. And he needed to introduce Grace to at least Lord Dunsmore, Lord Marcrum, and Lord Wetherby. He would also introduce Fin—if he graced society with his presence that evening.

Philip said they had accepted the invitation. Which meant Grace should be among the crush. Unless they had not yet arrived.

Miles’ heart picked up as he scanned the ballroom. It took him aback when he did not immediately spot the glow that she would surely emanate beneath the glitter of the chandeliers and candlelight. It must mean they were not there.

Miles breathed in deeply. He could relax for a moment. It would be an interesting evening. Or he hoped it would. Although, the gentlemen on his list presented a bit of an unknown to his plans. How would they respond to Grace? She was handsome enough for any of the gentlemen to take notice of her. But once the introductions were made, how would they speak to her? Would word of her upbringing already have reached the gossip mills?

Miles looked around the room. Freddie was there somewhere—probably already at the tables—judiciously avoiding the ladies searching for a husband in the ballroom.

Miles withdrew his pocket watch.

“Mr. Yardley?” The female voice brought Miles’ head around. Lady Mary stood at her mother’s arm, fluttering her lashes at him. She was the second oldest of Haverly’s daughters. And it seemed she was content with a third—Miles swallowed—or rather a second son. It likely did not hurt that he was a second son with a large estate.

He moved to the receiving line, trying to hurry through it as quickly as Lady Haverly would allow him. Lord Haverly had two daughters out this Season. Lady Mary and her older sister, Lady Beatrice.

Lady Haverly was determined to have both girls married by Season’s end. Which left every eligible bachelor in attendance…vulnerable.

“Lady Mary still has a few sets open, Mr. Yardley. I’m certain you would not object to claiming one,” Lady Haverly would brook no opposition. Were Lady Beatrice’s sets all taken? Or was she only accepting offers from those of title? Not that Miles cared. He would prefer not to ask either lady to dance.

Lady Mary smiled up at him, her lashes fluttering wildly.

Good heavens. The girl knew how to flirt. He took a step back. “I would be honored, my lady. Which set do you have available?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, Mr. Brockbank just spoke for my supper dance.” She pushed her lips out in a pout. “But the set after supper is still available.”

Miles nodded. “It is available no longer, my lady. Please, save that set for me.”

She giggled. “I’ll count the sets until it’s our turn, sir.”

Miles offered her a strained smile. “I can hardly wait, my lady.” He dipped his head and made his escape before she trapped him into a second set.

He grunted as he stood in the doorway to the ballroom, the card room holding more appeal than it had moments ago.

“I see you made it, Mr. Yardley.”

Miles grinned at the sound of Grace’s voice. “My attendance was never in question, Miss Jenkins. I told Philip just this morning that I was coming.” He turned around and sucked in a breath when he saw her.

He’d been right. She radiated beneath the glow of the candles. He hardly noticed Mrs. Jenkins and Philip standing just behind her. His gaze barely flicked to them as Grace had captured his complete attention.

He’d always known Grace was handsome. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the beginning. And he knew he was not the only one who thought it. Men watched her wherever she went.

As lovely as he found her every day, he had never seen her look as she did that evening. Tiny pink rose buds—the exact shade of her pink gown—dotted the braids wrapped around her crown and knot. Her hair shone brightly. Just a hint of freckles danced across her nose and cheeks. She was truly beautiful.

She moved up next to him and sucked in a quiet breath. “I thought I was ready for all this.” She stared out at the people dancing and milling about the ballroom. “But I find my preparation was woefully inadequate. It’s all so overwhelming,” she whispered, then put her thumb to her lips.

Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat, and Grace glanced over, dropping her hand to her side.

Miles recovered his senses and dipped his head at Mrs. Jenkins. “You both look very fine this evening.” He bowed. “Mrs. Jenkins, might I claim a set?” He could not bring himself to ask Grace. At least, not yet. He did not wish to appear too eager to be with her. How would that look?

Mrs. Jenkins smiled and nodded. “None are taken yet.”

“Then perhaps I may claim your first?”

She nodded.

Grace opened her mouth to speak but quickly clamped it shut.

“Did you wish to say something, Grace?” Philip asked his sister.

“It is nothing,” but the frown on her face said otherwise.

“Do have your say, Gracie,” Philip said.

Grace opened her mouth again but stopped. “At the risk of sounding petulant, I wonder how I’m to meet gentlemen if Mr. Yardley is out on the dance floor?” She looked down at the floor. “But I suppose it’s unfair of me to deny him his entertainment.” She smiled at Mrs. Jenkins. “I’m certain Elle wishes to dance also. I shall wait my turn as everyone else must.”

Mrs. Jenkins twitched her lips to the side. But Miles did not know her well enough to know if this was a show of irritation or just thought.

“I suppose Grace is correct.” She looked at Miles and smiled politely. “Might we postpone our dance until later in the evening?”

“Of course, madam,” Miles would be hard pressed to cry off early with the after supper dance he’d committed to already.

Jenkins grinned at his wife. “Then I shall take this set.”

Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes widened. “A husband rarely dances with his wife, sir.”

Philip shrugged. “Then I shall make certain to enjoy every moment of it.”

Miles had a thought. “Perhaps I should take Grace’s first set. Then I may point out the gentlemen. After the set is over, we can make our way over to them without it appearing that Grace is over-eager to make their acquaintance.”

“Oh, that sounds like a fine idea.” Grace smiled, and her body relaxed a fraction. “Thank you, Mr. Yardley.” She turned and hugged Mrs. Jenkins. “And thank you for understanding, Elle.”

“It looks as though this set is ending.” Miles led her out onto the dance floor. They took their places in the large circle forming. As the music started, Miles took his chance to talk with her before she moved down the line and his opportunity was lost. “My brother and his friend, Lord Stanhope, are standing over there with Lord Finsbury. We will start with them.”

Grace glanced over in the direction he’d motioned to with his head. “Thank you, again, Mr. Yardley. I’m certain this is not what you wished to do with your Season.”

Lud, she had no idea just how much he loathed the notion. But he smiled to set her at ease. “We are friends, are we not? And do not friends help each other?”

A flicker of something passed through her eyes, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

They placed their backs to each other as she moved away from him down the line.

“Good evening, Mr. Yardley,” Lady Mary smiled widely at him.

“Lady Mary. How are you enjoying the dance?”

“Very much, thank you.” And then, thankfully, she was on to the next partner.

Finally, Grace came to a stop in front of Miles. She had made her way around the whole circle, and the dance was at an end.

The crowd clapped as everyone took their places for the next dance. Miles was pleased that they would stay together on this dance. Perhaps he should have waited to present his plan to her. He flicked his glance at the other people in their grouping. No, it was better they had done it earlier. Lady Anne and Mrs. Peabody were in their set. And neither lady was known for their discretion.

Still, he tipped his head this way and that. Speaking the gentleman’s name in hushed tones whenever one came into view that was on his list.

Grace, for her part, was good about waiting a beat or two before glancing over her shoulder. Miles could not be certain she had identified any of the gentlemen correctly. But it was no matter. He would introduce her to them soon enough. And then the games would begin. He cringed at the thought. There was nothing enjoyable about what he must do.

Miles followed the dance by rote, scarcely aware of his movements, until the final strains of the music faded.

He bowed to Grace, as was customary, before he led her over to a group of men standing along the far wall. “Gentleman,” Miles announced as they approached. “I wish to introduce you all to Miss Grace Jenkins.” He motioned to the man at his right. “Lord Stanhope.” Stan tipped his head, giving her only a slightly more attentive look than was his usual.

Grace curtsied. “My lord.”

Miles motioned to Fin. “I don’t remember if you ever met Lord Finsbury on one of his visits to Briarcliff Hall over the last several years.”

Grace’s brow crinkled in thought. “I don’t believe we’ve met, my lord.”

Fin bowed over her hand. “Indeed, I believe I would remember someone so lovely, Miss Jenkins.”

Miles glared at the back of Fin’s bowed head. He would nudge him firmly in the arm if he were in a better position. They had decided not to have Fin throw his lot in with her, had they not?

“And you know my brother,” Miles added a bit too tersely. He looked over his shoulder. “It looks as though the other gentlemen are still dancing.”

She smiled at the men, but it was not her genuine smile. Miles could not help the relief that flooded through him. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” She dipped her head to Freddie. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Weymouth.”

The corners of Freddie’s mouth flicked up. “Yes, it’s been too long. One would not realize we were virtually neighbors with how little we see each other.”

Miles glanced sideways at Grace. Had she noticed his rather dismissive tone? He would have to speak with Freddie. After all, his role was not to be one of Grace’s dissolute suitors. She would surely need all the friends she could find while in London.

Stanhope shifted toward the doors. “I’m for the card room this evening. There are too many eyes looking for a title.”

Grace laughed, albeit a little stilted. “Just tonight, my lord? Do you think the ladies will give up after only one ball?”

Stan quirked a brow in interest. That was most decidedly unexpected. “Do you believe my hope is in vain, Miss Jenkins?”

She lifted a delicate shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, those with eyes toward titles don’t quit until they have secured what they came for.” Was she speaking about those ladies around her? Or of herself? Was it her way of telling Miles she had not given up on her goals?

Fin coughed and flicked a glance at Miles. Perhaps he should not have mentioned Grace’s desire to secure someone of title.

Stanhope grumbled. “It is why I spend the whole of the Season in the card room, Miss Jenkins.”

“But what of those who are not looking for a title? Are you to punish them for the title seeker’s mistakes?” Grace looked around the room. “Surely there are many lovely young ladies who would think nothing of your title.” She looked as though she were holding back a grin. “They will be happy enough with your money.”

Stanhope let out a chuckle and looked at Miles. “Yardley, you never mentioned that your neighbor was clever.” But that was all the compliment he had time for, it seemed, as he turned on his heel to leave. “I’m for the card room, gents. Who will join me?”

Freddie slapped him on the back. “I’m right behind you.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Fin said.

“Run along and hide in your cardroom, gentlemen. The rest of us shall only speak of your cowardice for a few moments, I am certain. Then we shall move on to other topics.” Her eyes widened, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Miles looked at her. It had been some time since he’d heard her talk with such confidence. Who would have thought it would be to Stanhope and Freddie?

Fin laughed. “I believe she just called us cowards, Stan.”

Stanhope smirked at her. “I am not a coward, Miss Jenkins. I simply do not wish to be caught in some meddlesome mother’s trap.”

Freddie nudged Stan. “Hounds and tares. We are too late.” He cast Grace a dark look, as if it were her fault they were not yet in the cardroom.

An older woman approached, dragging a young woman along behind her. “My lords,” she called out, waving her fan in the air. “I’m glad I caught you. It seems so many of the eligible gentlemen are crying off this evening.” She spoke loudly, carrying on the conversation as though she were standing next to them rather than several rods away. “I do not know why they bother to come if they are not to dance with the eligible young ladies.”

“Now look what you have done, Miss Jenkins. If not for your challenge, I should already be a hand into faro.” Stanhope growled out the side of his mouth.

Miles stepped in front of Grace as if he had to protect her. “You would not even be through this crush of people. Don’t cast your bad luck at her feet.”

The woman approached, blocking the only escape from the ballroom, and curtsied. She reached behind her and pushed down on the girl’s shoulder, forcing her into an awkward curtsy. “And Mr. Yardley, I had hoped we would see you this evening.”

It seemed word of his inheritance had finally reached all the levels of society. Pity.

Fin dipped his head to her. “Mrs. Courser. You came to delight us again this Season.” His brow creased. “Although, I thought I saw in the papers that your daughter married last Season.”

The woman nodded. “Ah, yes, she did. That was my older daughter, Miss Hanora. Although, as you surely heard, she is now Mrs. Pole. You have heard of Mr. Robert Pole, have you not?” She did not wait for anyone to reply. “He is a very influential man. He has the ear of our Prime Minister, Lord Jenkinson, you know.”

Miles could not say that he knew that. Indeed, he’d never heard of one Mr. Pole.

Mrs. Courser pulled the young girl forward. “ This is my daughter, Miss Edith Courser.” She pushed the girl toward them.

The girl curtsied, but she kept her gaze trained on the floor.

“Lord Stanhope, no one has yet claimed Miss Courser’s next set.” The woman stood in front of him.

Miles could see the connivance in the woman’s eyes. She was angling for an earl as a son-in-law. But Stanhope was not one to be manipulated.

His jaw set in a hard line. “And it is still available, Mrs. Courser.” He sidestepped her, moving through the crowd and out the door.

Everyone’s brows slowly rose.

But Mrs. Courser was not to be deterred. “What about you, Lord Weymouth? Surely you appreciate a fine dancing partner.”

Freddie smiled tightly. “Indeed, I do.”

Grace took a small step forward. “Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. Courser,” she put a hand on the woman’s arm. “Lord Weymouth has only just claimed my next set.” The sincerity Grace infused into her tone was quite impressive.

Miles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Any slight Freddie might have felt after the cowardly comment would surely be erased if Grace saved him from Mrs. Courser and her daughter.

But then, as if Grace knew none of this was the girl’s fault, she put a hand on her arm and said, “I wonder if we might have tea together, Miss Courser? Perhaps after dinner, we could find a proper time to schedule it?”

Miss Courser looked up and smiled, nodding timidly.

Mrs. Courser looked at Grace. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure.” There was little pleasure in her tone.

Miles stepped forward. “Mrs. Courser, may I introduce Miss Jenkins? Her brother’s estate is near my father’s in Somerset.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” She put her hands on her ample hips.

“Likely not. We do not come often to London.” Grace said. She smiled and curtsied. “But it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Courser.”

Miles caught sight of Fin as he backed slowly into the crowd and disappeared. The milksop.

“I admit, I am very interested in hearing of Mr. and Mrs. Pole. Perhaps you could accompany your daughter to tea?” Grace looked as if she really desired the woman’s company. Which could be nothing but a ruse. No one desired Mrs. Courser’s company.

“I shall consult my schedule,” Mrs. Courser turned her attention to Miles. “And you, Mr. Yardley? Are you already engaged for the next set?”

Miles shook his head, but it slowly stopped when he realized why the question had been asked. His mouth dropped open. How had he not seen that coming? He was not as desirable as Stanhope as the heir apparent to a marquessate. Miles was only a lowly Mister. But he was a landed Mister, and that seemed to be enough for the likes of Mrs. Courser. He should have expected the sneak attack. Confound it!

He bowed to the young lady, trying to hide his irritation. It was not poor Miss Courser’s fault her mother was a fishwife. “Miss Courser, may I claim your next set?” There was little enthusiasm in his tone.

Miss Courser nodded. She looked no happier than Miles felt. Why was that? Did she not consider Miles a suitable partner? Freddie was going to owe him .

Miles glanced over at Grace. She smiled widely at him, but there was also a look in her eye. He had seen it before when he had saved a cat from being struck by a carriage wheel. Or the time he had helped old Miss Thackery carry her parcels from the sundry shop to her small cottage. It was almost as if she were proud of him. Although, why she should be proud of him, he could not say. He had been caught unawares by a mother most persistent in her designs. What was there to be proud of in that?

However much he disagreed with her reasons, it did not follow that he did not like the result.

He straightened his shoulders and stood taller as he led Miss Courser to the dance floor. He frowned. It was just his luck. The set was an Allemande.