Palaces Of Light. James Axler
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anyone,” he exclaimed hotly. “I no longer believe in the silly emotion. Indeed, I am not the marrying sort at all. I have a perfectly capable cousin who will step into my shoes if anything befalls me. But my sisters are aghast at that prospect and continually nag me to marry and produce an heir. I decided to allow them to rest this Season by appearing as if I was trying to find a bride. This particular widow seemed as good a place to start as any.”
She watched as he casually walked to the table and began to peel an apple with his knife.
“She would never expect too much from me, and would not be hurt when my interest faded.”
How could he talk of courtship in such a cold, methodical way? She had never heard of anyone not believing in love! She knew some were not meant for it, or never found it, but to not believe in it? Her heart suddenly ached for him.
The moment of sympathy was quite short-lived.
“She will be mad as fire to learn I am engaged, but I had already discovered she has quite a temper. More, anyway, than I wish to take on. Are you certain you will not eat anything? The pacing back and forth you prefer would seem to require more sustenance than most.”
When he saw she would not rise to the bait, he continued. “As to my sisters, I have not known either to keep a secret their entire lives, so we definitely will not tell them. Fortunately, I am not overly close to either one. But that will not stop them from descending upon you full of questions, so there will be much more we need to know about each other before we get to London. Our stories will have to match exactly.”
“This gets worse and worse. My lord, I cannot look at your sisters and lie to them. It goes against all I believe in.” She stared at him directly and tried to convey how important this was to her.
He scoffed. “If you are determined to believe it is a lie, then accept it as a little white one. What penance is required for that?”
“Lord Weston, please do not make fun of my faith. My relationship with God is an important part of my life. It now enters my mind that London will think it especially odd that their favorite rake would even marry a woman like me.” She began to wring her hands.
The marquess put what was left of the apple on the table. He came to her and took her hands to pull her up before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, there was a knock on the door and Lydia stepped into the room.
“Grace, I cannot in good conscience stay away any longer. You have been closeted with this gentleman for more than an hour and it is not seemly.” She turned her eyes to the man standing behind Grace. “I did not see you earlier. Are you Lord Weston?”
Grace looked back at him and started to laugh. His eyes were as wide as his open mouth! When he realized his reaction, he looked back at Grace with a decided gleam in his eyes and his dimple showing. She had been acquainted with the gentleman for a very short time, but she was already certain that was an ominous sign. Knowing there was nothing for it but to brazen through, she said, “Lord Weston, this is my sister, Lydia. Lydia, this is Lord Weston.”
“Why, I am charmed, fair beauty. Surely the men in Essex have not let you go, as well as your sister?”
Grace watched in fascination as he addressed Lydia. It was impossible to see him rallying the full force of his charms and not realize his reputation was well earned. She knew this would happen once he saw Lydia, but she had not yet warned him of her beauty.
He took her hand, kissed it and put it in the crook of his arm as he walked her into the room. “May I call you Lydia, as we are to be brother and sister? It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Grace has been telling me all about you.”
“Brother and sister?” She pulled her arm away and ran to Grace. “Are you really to marry him? Oh, dear!”
“Darling, you were right when you told me not to get involved in the machinations of the women in the next room. I shall mind you better next time.” Grace heard a “harrumph” from the other side of the room, but ignored it. “My foolishness put me in a rather awkward position, and as a result, Lord Weston and I must be betrothed for a while. There is no doubt we will find we do not suit,” she said. She shot him a glance that indicated he would be sorry should he interject once again. “But we must make our plans tonight so we may leave in the morning. I promise you I am quite safe with the gentleman. He has no interest in me beyond helping us out of this coil.”
Grace turned as she felt him approaching.
“Lydia, Grace is correct—neither you nor she need ever fear me.”
“Now, darling, Lord Weston and I have a few more items we need to work through, so you may go up to bed with a clear conscience. Do not worry, I will be up soon.” She walked her to the door, kissed her cheek and wished her good-night. When her sister left the room, Grace turned on him. “May I just jilt you now and that will be the tale we will respond with when asked?”
“My dear, you have made me laugh more tonight than I have in a twelvemonth!” When he came toward her and held out his hand, she had no fear of putting hers into it. “Own up, you looked so smug when your sister came into the room. You assumed I would immediately fall at her feet, and I wanted to show you that beauty is insufficient to sway me.
“She is beautiful, I grant you, Grace. But I am far more interested in you. We have been here this hour or more and I have not once been bored. You have a quick and intelligent answer ready for almost everything we have discussed.”
“This is getting us nowhere,” she stated, matter-of-fact, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks at his peculiar compliment. “We have much to decide tonight, so the sooner we start the sooner we finish, my lord.”
* * *
When Lydia entered the parlor for breakfast the next morning, Grace and the marquess were still at loggerheads. A more complete explanation of the situation filled her with dismay. “Oh, dear! Must you go to all this trouble simply to avoid casting a shadow on my Season?” She paused only a moment and said clearly, “Grace, I do not need to be presented this year. I—”
“Lydia, we are definitely—”
Lord Weston cut them both off in a voice Grace had not heard from him. “Lydia, we must be concerned about your Season. There is no question about that. And,” he said, shifting his gaze to her sister, “Grace’s reputation is at stake here, as well. Her standing in London and Essex is no less precious than yours for this Season. I will hear no more about it.”
Grace became aware of an overall feeling of security. Though Lydia’s character was more important in her eyes—the dear girl deserved to make an excellent match, while she herself had no such concerns—Lord Weston wanted to protect her, as well. Grace had not wished to betray her own fears on that score, but he understood what this meant to her. She had always been responsible for taking care of herself. She was surprised at how happy she felt that someone was looking after her!
Breakfast turned into lunch as they struggled to concoct a narrative of their courtship that would satisfy Society and not violate Grace’s innate honesty. She feared they would need to postpone their departure one more day.
Lord, please forgive me for putting all of us in such an awkward situation. Proverbs says, “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.” I have erred by trying to direct the lives of others. Please lead us through this in Your way, protecting our path.
By luncheon, they had decided on a plausible way to explain how they had met. They would say Grace’s father and Lord Weston had a mutual interest in the Elgin Marbles, which was true. When Lord Weston and Grace met, their speedy courtship had followed, which was also true.
It was then that Lydia, sitting on a bench watching travelers through the window, broke in on the discussion, “Grace, will you tell people that Lord Weston has fallen in love with you?”
“What?” The exclamation in response came from both Grace and Lord Weston at the same time.