Grace always thought it the most spectacular room in the house, with the tapestries and the Baccarat crystal chandelier from the seventeenth century. But, of course, the best piece by far was Max. When she was very little, she’d been almost afraid of the intimidating full suit of armor. But as she got older, her love for him grew. Right now, he was a welcome sight. “How are you, Max?” she said aloud. “Have you missed me, my knight?” she whispered.
Grace looked around and wished she were here as Lydia’s chaperone, as she’d planned, rather than as the betrothed of London’s most notable rake. And she wished more than anything that she did not have to deceive her aunt and her father. Would that it were not so important for Lydia. But it was too late to repine now, so she turned to the drawing room to keep her aunt from having to search for her.
She crossed the threshold and stopped to take in the room and the two women seated on the divan. She had forgotten how beautiful this room was, as well, done in subtle shades of rose. With the fire and the candles, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. For a moment she was sad that her mother was not here.
Her aunt, still regal for her fifty-some years, was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and holding Lydia’s hand. She rose quickly at Grace’s entrance and hurried to embrace her.
“What a watering pot I have become, and you know I am usually no such thing. Stand back and let me look at you. I am afraid my tears started when I saw how much Lydia looks like your mother.”
“I understand completely, Aunt Aggie. It is hard not to miss her when we are here.” Grace received and returned a loving embrace. Her aunt always smelled of rose water and lavender. It made her feel at home.
Grace knew why Aunt Aggie had insisted upon her help to chaperone Lydia. Just as Grace believed Lydia was wasted in Essex, so Agatha believed Grace herself was. She had no doubt Aunt Aggie planned some husband shopping for her, as well. At least this fantastic tale concerning Lord Weston would put a stop to that. She knew her aunt still had hopes for her. But Aunt Aggie would not understand. Grace wanted love. She wanted a marriage like her parents had; they had shared everything. But at six and twenty, she doubted she would meet such a man.
Her aunt placed her hand in the crook of Grace’s arm and led her to the chair in front of the fireplace, across from Lydia.
“The thing we need to do in London, girls, is highlight your differences.” Grace was brought back to the present at her aunt’s words. “Lydia, in the country, men are as much interested in experience with estate matters as beauty, and if my letters from your father are any indication, Grace has both in abundance. There are just as many men, admittedly more in London, who want more ladylike accomplishments and a quiet demeanor, as well as beauty. When we go shopping this week, we will take all of these things into consideration, and you both will take the Town by storm!”
The time had come. She must tell her aunt about Lord Weston. She had secretly held the hope that Aunt Aggie had already heard the rumors and would berate her almost as soon as she walked in the door. Perhaps Lord Weston had exaggerated the Marchmonts’ power.
“Aunt Aggie, we feared word would arrive ahead of us, but it seems you have not heard about the...betrothal?”
“The betrothal?” Aggie exclaimed. “Are you referring to the engagement of Lord Weston? I did not realize you had ever met him. The Marchmonts have been spreading the tale but I put no stock in it. He has yet to be caught...” Suddenly she looked at her blushing niece. “Never say...you do not mean you are the ‘nobody?’”
Grace sighed. She remembered she was supposed to be in love with Lord Weston. “The announcement is to be in the papers tomorrow. I am so sorry we could not let you know before you heard it in Town. It all happened so quickly.” She could not even feign happiness these first few hours in London. She and Lydia would both be ruined at this rate.
Her aunt turned her head toward Grace with eyes open wide. “Grace, my darling!” she gushed, as she jumped up and pulled her out of her chair, to embrace her again. “Why, this is all that is wonderful. Finally, you have met the man who will appreciate your character as well as your beauty.”
Grace was stunned. “Pardon, Aunt, I thought you would be a little more concerned. I know he has somewhat of a reputation!”
“Nonsense! Lord Weston has had a hard life, and in my opinion, he has become so bored with the ton that many of the most outlandish exploits he devises are for his own amusement. All he needed was the right woman to straighten him up—you!”
She was smiling from ear to ear. “I cannot wait until all of London finds out tomorrow that it is true and it took my special niece to catch him!” She actually clapped her hands!
“And as for you, Lydia,” Aunt Aggie continued, completely unaware of the nervous tension in the room, “with your sister settled so well, we will have every other man in London bowled over by you! We would have done just fine with my connections, you know, but with Lord Weston’s sisters as sponsors, you will be invited everywhere!”
Grace felt awful. “Aunt, I have not even met Lord Weston’s sisters. We cannot vouch for their cooperation when they find out he is marrying a country nobody.”
“What is this all about, Grace?” asked her aunt. “You must not know Brandon Roth very well if you think he will allow his sisters to treat you with anything but respect.”
Lydia said, “Aunt Aggie, that is just it, you see. Grace does not know him very well. They met, and before any of us knew what had happened, they were betrothed. It has been a whirlwind, and you know, dear aunt, Grace has never liked to be the center of attention.”
Grace sent her sister a silent look of thanks for her gentle description of events, but still wrung her hands.
“Dinner!” Agatha proclaimed. “That is what we need. I will hear the story over dinner and we will decide how best to proceed. You both run upstairs to your rooms to freshen up and I will see you in half an hour.”
As Grace walked past Max to go up to her room, she looked up at him and sighed. “Rescue me, my knight in shining armor,” she said in a low voice. But Max stood steadfast and stoic. “I know, dear friend, I’ve gotten myself into hot water and there’s no rescuing me this time!”
* * *
Lord Weston’s temper flared as his sisters overtaxed his patience.
Upon arriving at his home and being welcomed by his butler, he had settled into his library in front of a roaring fire. His thoughts were on the past two days and a pair of marvelous green eyes. He was tired, but Hinson had informed him that his sisters had called several times already, so he knew he did not have long to wait for them. Face them he would, but he would give a great sum of money to be left alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day.
Within the half hour, Hinson again knocked on his library door and announced that Lady Wright and Mrs. Hale had been shown into the front drawing room. He rose and followed his butler out. He teased his starchy retainer by saying, “On the attack, are they, Hinson?”
“I am sure I could not say, my lord,” he responded very properly. “They have been all that is polite each time they have come.”
“They must be sickening for something,” Brandon muttered as he turned the door handle to the drawing room. As he entered, a slightly older, female version of himself came to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Brandon, I am so happy you are home. We heard of your betrothal. It is glad tidings, indeed!”
Brandon broke into an Irish brogue to tease her. “Maggie, me dear, I do believe you’re lookin’ prettier than the last time I saw ye! How is that Irish husband of yours? I hope ye’ll tell me he’s in Toon,