Page 22 of The Spinster's Resolve
A s the ladies readied themselves for dinner, Lady Elizabeth knocked on Grace’s chamber door just as she was selecting her dress for the evening.
‘My dear, one of your dresses has arrived,’ she said, directing the maid to place it on the bed. But as Grace turned to thank her, she noticed something odd—Lady Elizabeth seemed agitated, a rare departure from her usual composure.
‘Are you feeling well, Lady Elizabeth? What is the matter?’ Grace asked, watching her closely.
‘Oh, there is nothing wrong with me. I am just disturbed by some news.’ She hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed, and Grace realised at once—this had to be about Lord Armitage’s broken engagement.
Her suspicion was confirmed when Lady Elizabeth sighed and said, ‘You might as well hear it from me before it is all over the newspapers tomorrow. Jane has cried off the engagement to Gabriel. He must be heartbroken.’
Grace raised a sceptical brow. ‘How so? He did not seem particularly attached to her. I believe it was an arrangement made by their parents. Perhaps his heart was never truly in it. I am sure he will recover from any embarrassment caused.’
Having witnessed the entire affair herself, she spoke with confidence. But Lady Elizabeth’s response unsettled her.
‘That is what I thought too... but then Gabriel went riding and returned with an injured wrist. He said Shadow nearly threw him, but he is an expert horseman. I have never known him to be so careless as to startle his own stallion. The only explanation is that he was distracted. And it would not be the first time he has been so affected by rejection from a lady.’
Grace’s stomach twisted with unease. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, unable to resist.
Lady Elizabeth sighed. ‘Of course, you would not know. When Gabriel was in his early twenties, he fell deeply in love. He was eager to marry, utterly devoted to his fiancée. But a week before the wedding, the lady cried off and married a titled gentleman instead.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘The irony is that today Gabriel is a Duke, and the woman who rejected him is now in dire straits.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Grace murmured, wondering how on earth he had not been snapped up by someone before now.
‘Yes...’ Lady Elizabeth’s expression was tinged with sadness. ‘After that, he became bitter and swore off both women and marriage. He defied our father’s wishes and joined the army instead. Their relationship was strained for years, though they eventually mended it.’
Grace’s brow furrowed. ‘Then why did he agree to marry Lady Jane if he had sworn off marriage?’
‘After Gareth died, Father was devastated. I suppose Jane was a way for him to hold onto Gareth’s memory. Gabriel did not have the heart to deny his wishes. I feel so sorry for him—he deserves a loving wife. He would make a wonderful husband, a wonderful father.’ She let out a sigh of frustration. ‘I only hope this has not driven him back to his former aversion to marriage. Since his return from Skye, I had thought him changed. He seemed lighter, happier, more engaged with society. He spent more time at home, began organising entertainments again... I truly believed he was ready to settle down. And now...’
She shook her head, her voice thick with irritation. ‘I am so very angry with Lady Jane. She has no idea what she has lost.’
With this last remark, Lady Elizabeth departed, leaving Grace staring at the dress on her bed, her mind whirling.
She baulked at the notion that the Duke was genuinely affected by the broken engagement. Surely not? He had seemed almost amused when he discovered Jane’s betrayal.
And yet... she had seen his skill on horseback in Skye. For him to lose control of Shadow? No, Lady Elizabeth was right—he must have been deeply distracted.
This revelation put a damper on the hope Grace had scarcely allowed herself to feel. Was he now averse to marriage once more?
No one would blame him, given how the two women he had once affianced had treated him.
Tonight, she would watch him closely. If he was truly heartbroken, she needed to know.
Mrs Merriweather entered Grace’s chamber later that evening just as Betty was putting the finishing touches to Grace’s hair. Grace had taken particular care with her appearance tonight, though now she wondered if it had been a mistake.
‘Miss Heather has already gone down... my goodness, Miss Grace, you look lovely ,’ Mrs Merriweather exclaimed, blinking several times as though she thought she was dreaming. She approached Grace’s dressing table, admiring the reflection in the mirror.
Grace wore an emerald-green empire-waist gown with delicate pearl detailing around the bodice. Betty, seizing the rare opportunity to dress her mistress to the height of fashion, had styled her hair into an intricate arrangement of twists and curls. Looking at the full-length mirror, Grace barely recognised herself—she appeared elegant, almost regal.
A soft glow seemed to radiate from her as she descended the staircase, her heart pounding when the first person she encountered was the Duke himself. He simply stared .
Grace offered him a shy smile.
Without a word, he opened the door to the drawing room for her, then whispered in her ear as she passed, ‘You look beautiful.’
Before she could reply, he was swept away by a swarm of eager debutantes and their ever-watchful mothers. For the rest of the evening, she had no opportunity to speak to him.
However, she observed him as much as possible.
Despite his bandaged wrist, he appeared to be in good spirits, showing no sign of melancholy or distraction. The broken engagement had, naturally, spread like wildfire through every corner of London, resulting in a much larger gathering than usual. No doubt, many were there because hopeful mamas were keen to snare a duke for their daughters.
Under normal circumstances, a broken engagement would be a scandal, but being a duke had its privileges—immunity from malicious gossip appeared to be one of them. If anything, Lord Armitage was more popular than ever.
Grace shook her head as she watched young debutantes flutter their lashes and fan themselves the moment he so much as glanced in their direction. Some even went so far as to deliberately trip over in front of him, forcing him to help them up.
She might have found it amusing if she were not preoccupied with her own predicament.
To her dismay, more than one gentleman had cast appreciative glances in her direction. Worse still, Lord Edward monopolised her attention as soon as she entered the room, lavishing her with excessive praise. His enthusiasm bordered on the insufferable, and she quickly found herself wishing she had not put so much effort into her appearance. Worse still, he rudely prevented other gentlemen from being introduced to her, as though staking his claim .
In a rare moment when she managed to escape his attentions, she seized the opportunity to approach Lord Harry.
‘Ah, my Lord, you always seem to know the best places in town. Might I trouble you for some advice? I am looking for a reliable watchmaker. You see, my late father’s pocket watch holds great sentimental value, but it has stopped working. I was hoping to find someone who could repair it. There is little talent for such things in my part of the country, so I thought I might take advantage while I am in London. Could you recommend a good place?’
Lord Harry paused, sipping his tea thoughtfully before replying, ‘Our family has always used Harrow’s on Bow Street. They are a very talented family establishment. You might have luck there, Miss Skye. I would be happy to accompany you, if you wish.’
His unexpected offer caught her off guard, but she quickly composed herself and made a plausible excuse.
‘Oh, I would not presume to impose on your time, my lord. I shall manage on my own.’
Before he could respond, she swiftly changed the subject, hoping to learn more about Lord Edward.
‘You seem remarkably close to your family members. I must admit, I feel somewhat envious—I have always longed for a brother or cousins.’
Lord Harry gave a wry smile and, after a brief pause, replied, ‘Yes, quite. Edward was a wonderful elder brother when we were younger. He took great care of me. We have drifted apart somewhat these days... you know, with all his duties and responsibilities.’
His tone carried a hint of finality, and Grace noted how carefully he avoided saying too much about his relationship with Edward. Lord Gerrard had claimed they did not get along, yet Lord Harry’s explanation painted a more benign picture, suggesting their estrangement was simply due to life’s demands.
Grace, ignoring his subtle attempt to change the subject, feigned innocence and continued, ‘Oh no, that must be terrible—to not have the time to see one another. I cannot imagine what I would do if I could not see Heather.’
Lord Harry’s smile remained, though it grew slightly strained. ‘You must prepare for this inevitable change. After all, she is here to find a husband, is she not? Perhaps you will soon have to endure what we have.’
He gestured to Heather, who was laughing at something a young gentleman had said. Then, without another word, he bowed and limped away, leaning heavily on his cane.
Grace pondered his words. Why was he so sensitive about his estrangement from his brother? What was he hiding?
She had observed that when Lord Edward greeted his younger brother, it was always with affection—a warm smile, a friendly clap on the back. Perhaps Lord Harry knew more about Edward’s activities than he was willing to admit. Perhaps their estrangement was not merely due to responsibility but rather disapproval .
Grace was distracted from her thoughts when she nearly bumped into Heather.
‘Grace, you look beautiful,’ her sister gushed. ‘Dearest, you will never guess who I ran into—besides you—on our way home from town.’
Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘Who?’
Heather paused for effect before exclaiming, ‘ Charles! ’
Grace gasped . ‘What did he have to say?’
‘Nothing, I did not speak to him. He was with his friends, but no doubt you will see him at the ball. I heard from Lord Gerrard, he is friends with Lord Edward and Lord Harry—something about them being at Eton together.’
Grace clenched her fists involuntarily. ‘At least we are not beholden to him. After what he did, I have a few things I wish to say to him.’
‘Easy there, Gracy—what are those fists getting ready for?’ Heather teased.
Grace forced herself to relax her hands. ‘If he dares to speak to me, I will give him a piece of my mind.’
Their conversation was interrupted by Lady Elizabeth, announcing the start of the evening’s musical performances.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to ask Lady Jane to begin tonight’s entertainment. Lady Jane, please set the example.’
Each young lady had been persuaded to perform, most eagerly taking the opportunity to showcase their talents. Heather, though nervous, agreed cheerfully.
‘Will you not sing, Grace?’ she asked. ‘You love singing.’
Grace shook her head. Though she enjoyed music, it was too intimately tied to her past—to a time when her parents were alive and would request her to sing. She had long since stopped performing publicly, unwilling to risk an unguarded display of emotion.
When Heather took her turn, Grace smiled encouragingly. Though her performance was slightly off-key—no doubt due to nerves—the audience received her warmly.
As the evening wore on, the performances continued, but by the fourth or fifth song, much of the company had turned to quiet conversation.
Then, quite unexpectedly, Lord Armitage appeared beside her.
‘Are you enjoying the music? Or would you prefer to dance with me?’ he asked, his voice laced with mischief as he glanced at her tapping foot.
She immediately stopped tapping.
‘Would that not raise a few eyebrows?’ she quipped. ‘The other ladies would have a fit. They are all vying for your attention.’
He smiled. ‘Perhaps I am feeling reckless. Or perhaps it is your dress that has caused my lapse in good sense.’
A gasp escaped Grace at his unexpected flirtation. She blushed.
‘I must decline, Your Grace. I have no wish to provoke the evil eye from all these ladies.’
He sighed dramatically. ‘You are very wise.’
With a bow, he left—only to be immediately engulfed by another group of eager young ladies.
Grace could not help but wonder—was he truly unaffected by his broken engagement? Or was he simply very, very good at pretending?
As Miss Hurst finished her performance on the harp, Lord Edward approached Grace once more.
‘Do you play, Miss Skye?’
Caught off guard, Grace hesitated before she could respond. But before she could even open her mouth, Heather—without an ounce of tact—answered for her.
‘Yes! She has the most beautiful voice. We always used to ask her to sing back at the Manor.’
The words struck Grace like a slap. Without thinking, she reached over and pinched her little sister—hard. Heather yelped, glaring at her in reproach before rubbing her arm and swiftly retreating towards the tea stand.
Grace exhaled sharply and tried to salvage the situation.
‘I am only here as a chaperone for my sister, my lord. I have no need to perform, as these young ladies do. And I play very little—especially in company.’
Lord Edward laughed, shaking his head.
‘Ah, being a chaperone is no excuse. And as for playing very little , I do believe that is the standard response for any lady before she dazzles an audience. I suspect you would fare no worse than some of tonight’s performances.’ His gaze flickered with amusement. ‘And if nothing else, it would provide me with a perfectly reasonable excuse to admire you without raising any suspicion.’
Grace’s breath hitched. The audacity!
‘My lord,’ she said sharply, ‘you say the most outrageous things. I must insist that you cease.’
He only winked. ‘I won’t take no for an answer, Miss Skye. If you play, I promise to behave for the rest of the evening. How about that?’
Before she could protest, he quite abruptly took her hand and led her to the pianoforte.
Grace looked around. The room was buzzing with quiet conversations, most of the guests too absorbed in their own affairs to take notice. She prayed her performance would go unnoticed.
Taking a steadying breath, she began to play.
At first, it was merely background music to the evening’s chatter. Her fingers glided over the keys, the notes coming more naturally with each passing moment. Her nerves settled. If Heather could do this, so could she .
Then, without realising it, she closed her eyes and began to sing .
It was an old favourite—one that transported her back to her childhood at the Manor, to evenings when life had been whole , when she had performed for her parents, their adoring faces watching her with pride.
Her voice was not exceptional, but it was sweet , much like Heather’s. However, where Heather’s voice was light and airy, Grace’s had depth —a quiet, wistful quality that made her melody feel almost tangible . The song filled the room like a lingering fragrance.
And then, as always, a single tear escaped.
It was as though she were saying goodbye to something—a beloved friend, a cherished dream.
When she opened her eyes, she was startled to find the entire room had fallen silent.
A breathless pause.
Then, the applause erupted—thunderous and enthusiastic. Compliments rained down upon her, smiles beaming from every corner of the room.
But the Duke—he did not clap.
He stood apart, by the mantelpiece, arms folded. His expression was unreadable, his gaze locked onto hers. Something flickered in his hazel eyes—something she could not quite decipher.
Was it admiration? Pain? Longing?
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Lord Edward approached, and the lingering way his gaze roamed over her caused her skin to prickle as an uncomfortable shiver ran through her. ‘Why, Miss Skye, you have the voice of an angel .’
Grace exhaled, regaining her composure. ‘My lord, you agreed not to say anything further outrageous , at least for this evening.’
Duly chastised, he inclined his head in mock solemnity.
‘Quite right. I shall postpone my remarks until tomorrow .’
Grace let out a soft, uneasy laugh.
And yet, she could not shake the thought—how could a man with such charm and good humour harbour such darkness?
If, indeed, he was the murderer.
EVERY YEAR, THE ton eagerly anticipated the start of the Season. Private balls were always well attended, and this year, the Armitage family was hosting one. Despite a few raised eyebrows about the family being in mourning, the majority overcame their scruples to enjoy a good dance. If Grace and Heather had thought the house was lively before, now it was a veritable storm of activity. Footmen darted back and forth. Maids polished silver and glass with frantic precision, their sleeves dusted with chalk powder. The air was thick with the scent of fresh roses, beeswax, and an undercurrent of nervous tension. The ballroom doors had been thrown open, revealing a dazzling display of crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors while servants flitted about, arranging garlands with meticulous care. Even Holden, ever composed, wore the weary look of a man overseeing a battle.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, appeared invigorated.
‘I love this time of year, but it just won’t be the same without Father and Gareth,’ she sighed. ‘They were the life and soul of the place. I remember the time Gareth brought in a most risqué ice sculpture—it was the scandal of the Season, second only to the Richmond sisters eloping.’ She chuckled to herself.
Grace had offered to finish writing the invitations since Elizabeth’s eyes were strained, but she had not realised what she was letting herself in for. Her hand cramped painfully. She welcomed the interruption. ‘An ice sculpture? How unusual.’ Stretching her fingers and walking over to the tea tray, she poured her third cup. ‘What was he like?’
Elizabeth relaxed into her armchair. ‘Oh, he was full of life, always looking for the next adventure. Never one to sit idle. If he were here today, he would be pacing up and down the room.’ She smiled. ‘I would get so vexed with him—he was always antsy.’ She patted Grace’s hand as she accepted another cup of tea. ‘Thank you, dear. Well ... enough of this nostalgia. Tell me, do you have a beau waiting for you back home?’
Grace choked a little on her tea. Spluttering to clear her throat, she replied, ‘Err, no, not to my knowledge, anyhow.’
Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I find that hard to believe—are all the men there blind?’
Grace choked again and hastily placed her cup at a safe distance on the table. ‘I have lived a sheltered life. Being immersed in Estate work has left little time to entertain such matters.’
‘Yes, Gabriel did mention something of that nature. Still, I think you should try to find a husband alongside your sister. You are much admired by Edward, I have noticed. What do you think of him?’
Grateful she was no longer drinking tea—this revelation might have been the death of her—Grace replied as diplomatically as she could muster, ‘He is a most charming gentleman, but I am under no illusion that he would offer me marriage. I am sure there are many more eligible ladies for him to choose from rather than a penniless country spinster.’
‘ Au contraire , my dear, you shouldn’t sell yourself short. A caring and clever wife is the best companion for a man. I think he is much taken with you, and I would be surprised if he doesn’t ask by the end of the Season. I know he can be a little flirtatious, but he is a good man underneath it all. When he asks, I think you should consider it.’
The very notion sent a chill through her. Marrying a man she suspected of murder? A man whose charm was nothing but a finely polished veneer, concealing something far darker? The thought alone was suffocating.
She shot up from the couch as if burned. ‘Look at the time—I must finish these invitations.’ Her voice was too bright, too hurried, but Lady Elizabeth, thankfully, did not seem to notice.
Both ladies diligently resumed their work. Meanwhile, Grace furiously devised a plan to expose Edward. She needed to act fast before matters spiralled out of control.