Page 21 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter twenty-one

Grace

I had never been one to sleep late, but it was nearly noon before I finally forced my body from my bed to dress for the day. Remaining in my bedchamber would do me no good. I could not sleep, my mind a tangle of chaotic thoughts. And besides, every time I closed my eyes, the ghost of Phillip’s touch caressed my skin—my back, my hands, my lips. Yesterday felt more and more like a dream.

A dream I was all too eager to relive.

What a fool I had become. Matchmakers did not kiss their clients.

Not that Phillip had kissed me. Not really. His lips had touched mine, true, but could I not attest that to our forced proximity? He had held me close in an effort to offer my leg relief. His actions were that of a friend, were they not?

I could not say what he thought on the matter, but my heart and body certainly felt more than a friend should. In that moment, I had wanted him—his kiss, his touch, his warmth. I wanted to be the woman he embraced, the one he whispered quiet words of affection and regard to each night before bed.

Where had such desires and feelings come from?

I knew the answer, at least to an extent. When with Phillip, I felt at ease and never judged. The way he had abandoned all thought of embarrassment to dance with me at the Morrison’s ball had been the start. Then came the flowers I had never expected.

But neither of those things compared to our conversation in his library, where he insisted that I was not broken. Where he looked at me with such tenderness that I could scarcely breathe. Indeed, were any heroines in one of my novels to receive such a look from a handsome gentleman, they would likely swoon.

I had not swooned, and I would not swoon, because Phillip was my client.

Mr. Montfert. Bother. I needed to keep the formality between us; otherwise, my heart might get more ridiculous notions. The reality was that Phillip Montfert needed a wife who would meet his uncle’s requirements, and even though I claimed a connection to a viscount, the man would never approve of me.

After what I had overhead, his approval was not something I even wanted. The conversations on the other side of the wall had left me confused but suspicious. Whatever Mr. Perry was involved in, it sounded…criminal.

The idea did not surprise me, and I wondered if the reason Sabrina and Phillip were spying on him was because they intended to take proper action—whatever that entailed. Would Phillip even need a matchmaker if his uncle was sentenced by the courts?

Once my lady’s maid had helped me dress and finished my hair, I made my way downstairs. I had missed breakfast, but I had never once been unsuccessful at convincing Cook to sneak me something from the kitchens.

She did not disappoint, and I came away with a stomach full of lemon tarts and fresh bread dressed with honey, enough to satisfy me until afternoon tea. Intending to seek company—and a distraction from my thoughts—I ventured toward the yellow parlor located on the ground floor but did not make it past the central stairs.

Lieutenant Paget descended them with quick steps, as always, an image of handsome perfection. His steps slowed when he glanced up and took note of me, and a genial smile flitted over his face. “Good afternoon, Miss Scott. How are you today?”

“Well, I thank you. Have you come to call on Annette?”

He shook his head. “I believe she is out making calls herself with your aunt today.”

My lips pinched together. I should have been with them, but the need for rest had chased any thought of it from my mind. If only staying abed had done me any good, then my conscience might have been clear. As it was, staying in my room had only provided me with more time to think about Phillip.

Mr. Montfert.

Drat it all.

The lieutenant clasped his hands behind his back. “I came to see your uncle. He is looking much better today.”

My uncle’s health had improved over the last few days, and he had finally joined us again for dinner, but I gave the lieutenant a curious look. “How do you know he looks better? Have you been visiting him?”

He smiled. “I have. I’ve taken the time to see him after my outings with your cousin. Lord Paxton and my father have always been particular friends, and I find his political stances intriguing. It has been very informative to gain his perspective on things.”

Ah. So, it would seem Lieutenant Paget did have an interest in politics, and he might even favor abolition. Annette would be pleased to learn of this development, assuming she did not already know. I’d had the opportunity to watch them together the last two weeks, and while Annette still kept walls around her, I could tell she had softened toward the man. It would take time, and a great deal of patience on the lieutenant’s part, but the two of them had potential.

“It is always good to gain a better understanding of others’ perspectives,” I said. “We learn much that way, especially how to have empathy for those around us.”

“Indeed, and I believe empathy is a virtue worth nurturing. It is something I strive for.” He tilted his head, sending a strand of his dark hair onto his forehead. “Might I ask a favor of you, Miss Scott?”

“You may.”

“I will be busy attending to business the remainder of the week, and I wondered if you might let Miss Apsley know not to expect me for some time.” His lips quirked up on one side. “I should not wish for her to forget me while hosting her numerous suitors in my absence.”

I chuckled for two reasons. One, Annette had fewer callers now that Lieutenant Paget was making headway. It seemed between his determination to win her over and Annette’s to keep the others at a distance, many of them had given up. It likely helped that Rus was no longer sending bachelors to call upon. Second, I was positively certain my cousin could not forget the lieutenant, even if she wanted to.

“I will inform her, unless you would prefer to write her a note?” I raised my brows. “My stealth for delivering notes of a private nature is well-practiced.”

My sister would agree. Never mind that the notes I had delivered on her behalf were without permission. And stolen from her diary. I might have felt guilty for sneaking behind her back had my efforts not helped her find happiness with a man she loved.

The lieutenant looked pensive. “You know, I think I shall take you up on that offer. Would it inconvenience you if I were to write her a letter before leaving?”

“Not at all.” I gestured toward the parlor. “Please.”

The lieutenant stayed another half hour, writing his note to Annette while I embroidered a cushion, a maid serving as our quiet chaperone. Once he had gone, I gave up the pursuit and settled near the hearth with a book instead. Usually, a novel could sweep me away from all my troubles, but no matter how engrossed I was with the story, my mind inevitably wandered to Phillip.

When would I see him again?

Perhaps if we met and spoke of Miss Rigby, the renewed focus would put an end to my ridiculous musings. I had gone to his house for that very thing, and we had not even spoken of her. Instead, Phillip had spent his time reassuring me.

A chill swept over my arms. I had never told anyone how often I felt broken, and more specifically, alone in that brokenness. It seemed everyone around me was perfect and whole. None of my family had ever understood my struggles. I had not wanted them to, forever keeping most of my pain and sadness hidden.

But Phillip saw through me in ways no one else did, and something in the way he spoke made me feel heard. Understood, even. How could that be when the man was, so far as I could tell, utterly perfect himself? I could find no flaw in him, and each time he went out of his way to make me comfortable or smile, I only added to his list of qualities.

Lady Paxton and Annette returned, the former greeting me before announcing her intention to check on her husband. My parents had possessed a very loving relationship, and I saw the same in my aunt and uncle. While I had never met my paternal grandparents, they had raised their boys to respect and cherish their wives. With such examples in my life, including the relationship my sister had found with her husband, how could I ever settle for something less?

Annette plopped onto the cushion next to me and slumped into an unladylike slouch. “Did I miss anything diverting while I was out?”

“Yes. Did I miss anything diverting while not being out?”

Annette sat up straight. “Visiting the Angstons was a bore. What did I miss?”

I slipped the lieutenant’s folded letter from my pocket and held it up. “Your beau was here. He left you this.”

Annette snatched the paper from my hand. “The lieutenant came? What was he doing here? He knew I would not be home for callers today.”

I shrugged, watching her eyes pour over the note. “He said he came to visit your father. That is all I know. Well, that and he insinuated he found your father’s political stances intriguing.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Annette’s brows furrowed, and she scoffed. “He says he wanted to reassure me of his unwavering adoration and to ease the burden of my pining during his absence.” She crumbled the note into a wad. “What rubbish. I shan’t pine for him even a second. No, I shall be glad for the reprieve.”

“So…you are not happy about courting him? Forgive me, but I thought you were beginning to find him amiable?”

My cousin’s eyes rounded. “I am—I do find him amiable.”

The words came out so forced that I raised a brow. “That is convincing.”

“I like him very much. When he is not vexing me.”

“Which seems to be always.”

“No. It is not—there are…moments. Very rare, glorious moments.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I do not know what is going on between the two of you, but it sounds rather complicated, and I wish you the best.”

Annette reared back. “As a matchmaker, should you not sound more optimistic about my prospects?”

“I would if I believed you wanted such prospects. It saddens me that you feel I cannot be confided in.”

Her expression softened. “Oh, Grace. It is not that at all. I simply”—she heaved a sigh—“you are right. It is complicated, and you already have Mr. Montfert to fill your time. I do not want to burden you with this—not when it will amount to nothing.”

I was not certain what to believe, but it reassured me to know Annette’s secretive behavior did not stem from distrust. “Very well, but know that if you change your mind and need someone to lay those burdens on, I am rather good at listening.”

“You are, Grace.” She smiled and reached for my hands. “And I will keep that in mind.”