“Missing?” Fitz asked bewildered.
He had met the amenable Mr. Grant years earlier and found him to be a doting father with his daughters’ best interest in mind, but he never could stand up to his mother-in-law. Something Fitz was sure most people struggled with.
“Yes, I’m afraid no one has heard of his whereabouts since the battle of Waterloo.” Hightower lowered his head.
Fitz remembered Mr. Grant as an honest and fair man who was surrounded by a mother-in-law much stronger willed than he was. His mother-in-law made all the decisions in the family, leaving Mr. Grant with no power in his own home.
When Fitz had asked the other man for his daughter’s hand in marriage, Mr. Grant had readily agreed. However, it was Mrs. Miller who eventually made the final decision.
Sadness for Patience Grant gripped him as he recalled how close she was to her father. It was an association that they had bonded over, since Fitz, too, was connected to his own father.
Closing his eyes briefly, Fitz fought the wave of emotion that threatened to control him at the memory of his sire.
“Your Grace, my Mary-Anne here is an excellent dancer…” Mrs. Grant trailed off suggestively, like the viscount did not mention her husband at all.
Fitz choked into his closed fist, trying to cover up his laughter at his friend’s expense. It was now his turn to be the annoying companion.
“Indeed, Miss Mary-Anne, may I have the next set?” Stonelake asked to the joy of the older women.
Miss Mary-Anne Grant, however, was not overly excitedto dance with Stonelake. In fact the younger woman with smooth brown skin and light brown eyes with her thick tresses up in an elaborate hairstyle looked around the room expectantly, positively unaffected by Fitz’s friend.
Hightower looked around the room expectantly as if he was searching for someone. “Where is my goddaughter?” His voice took on a sudden light quality, as if he was speaking of someone he was fond of.
Fitz’s entire body stiffened for a fraction of a second at the mention of Patience Grant.
“We leftherto attend to our cloaks and reticules.” Mrs. Miller’s disdain for her eldest granddaughter shocked Fitz. Years earlier, Patience Grant had been her grandmother’s rare jewel. Fitz couldn’t help but notice that clearly something had changed between the two women.
“Ah, here she is now.” Hightower smiled brightly.
Fitz’s entire being was in an uproar at the thought of seeing Patience Grant again. His heart was pounding like a symphony orchestra, sweat forming on his brow, and around his cravat. The air in the room was suddenly so stifling he could barely breathe.
Swallowing the mountain-sized lump in his throat, he turned around to face Miss Patience Grant.
When his eyes met hers, it was like no time had passed at all. His heart stopped beating, mouth suddenly dry as he opened and closed it repeatedly. Fitz beheld the enchanting beauty with smooth rich-brown skin and round eyes. Loose curly strands of wild dark-brown hair framed an oval shaped face with high cheekbones and full lush lips. He could imagine that they had matching expressions on their faces, as she stared at him like she was seeing a ghost.
“F-fitz, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she stuttered, looking like an animal caught out in the wild. “What a surprise to see you in Brighton.”
Dear God, she was beautiful. He had thought of her quite often over the years, but nothing could compare to seeing her in the flesh. Not that he particularly cared, because he was still going to leave Brighton once he retrieved the reticule for Prinny.
But Fitz could admit that she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.
“Your Grace, may I introduce my goddaughter, Miss Patience Grant.” Hightower introduced Miss Grant, who curtsied and gave Stonelake a timid smile, her gaze shifting back to Fitz.
Stonelake bowed low, taking Miss Grant’s offered hand, making a show for all to see. “Miss Grant, what an honor. I have heard so much about you.”
Miss Grant pulled back slightly, her cheeks coloring. “Oh, really?” Her gaze shifted up to Fitz. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to Brighton.” Her voice washed over Fitz, waking parts of him that had been dormant since he had left five years earlier.
There had been women of course, but there was no thought of a future with anyone since her.
His gaze swept over her. Miss Grant was taller than most women, but much shorter than Fitz’s stature. Her voluptuous body was covered in a fine green gown, and he tried desperately not to stare.
“Miss Grant, dear, did you know our Mr. Fitzwilliam is now the Earl of Killingworth?” Hightower asked like it was the most interesting piece of gossip he had heard.
She shook her head, a few more curls swinging free. “No, I wasn’t aware. Forgive me, my lord.”
“No, forgiveness necessary, Miss Grant. I still prefer just Fitz. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, again.” Fitz wanted to keep their interaction formal. Bowing low, he tried to gain control over his traitorous body.
He had never reacted to other women in such a way; she was always the exception. Now, older and hopefully wiser, Fitz had a goal in life. He had to secure a future for his mother and sister, and that future did not include him becoming enchanted by Miss Patience Grant again. Besides, he was sure Reeves would not take kindly to him stealing his paramour.
