“And Mother would disown all of us,” Camellia said with a laugh.
Heath winced at the reminder. His mother would only be the first in a long line of aristocrats who would be shocked to discover he’d “taken up with a commoner.” Not all of them would be pleasant or conceal their disdain. Until he inherited the title, Heath would not even be able to use that to protect Miss Winfield from vitriol. Their opinions would be harsh.
But Heath was not interested in marrying thebeau monde. He wished to wed Miss Winfield.
If he, his family, and Miss Winfield could present a united front…
Then it wouldn’t matter what anyone else thought.
Chapter 23
Nora could not recall the last time she’d had so much unbridled fun. Heath and his siblings had her in tears of laughter.
That she constantly confused the sixes with the nines did not matter. The object of the game seemed less about winning and more about tossing cards in one’s opponent’s face when they failed to match suit.
It was exactly the sort of game one might expect bored siblings to invent some drizzly afternoon when it was too wet to go outside. Indeed, the cards seemed more likely to be in the air than to be in any person’s possession.
Nora loved that the Grenvilles had never stopped playing it in favor of more grown-up games like Whist or Casino. This was no true competition, but rather an excuse for family to spend time with each other.
“Are you going to the balloon launch next month?” Camellia asked her siblings.
Dahlia shook her head. “Faith and Chris are going, which leaves me on boarding school duty.” She turned to Bryony. “Care to come play your violin for a few hours?”
“I’ve an engagement, but I’ll make it up to you,” Bryony promised. “New bonnets for all the girls.”
Dahlia’s eyes shone. “That will be a wonderful treat.”
Nora’s astonished gaze bounced between them as they conversed. How wonderful it must have been to grow up a Grenville! So much love, so much wealth, so many siblings. Their home seemed like heaven.
As the eldest—and beleaguered sole male—Heath could have adopted an authoritarian attitude toward his younger sisters, or ignored them completely. Instead the clan quite obviously were the best of friends.
“How goes the new dancing instructor?” he inquired.
Dahlia brightened anew. “Do you miss your post? One can always make room in the schedule for more dancing.”
Nora sighed at the obvious love they shared.
Of course Mr. Grenville would be amazing with his family. When wasn’t he splendid? She would not have fallen in love with the man if he were not.
Reality crept in from the shadows. As much as she would enjoy laughing around this table with them forever, the Grenvilles were not her family. This was not her home. She did not truly belong.
Their stories proved it.
“I despise soirées,” Bryony groaned. “Please don’t make me go.”
“You love soirées,” Dahlia corrected. “You hate being forced to submit to five hours of hot tongs before Mother concedes defeat to your inability to hold a ringlet.”
“Nora’s curls are the perfect compromise,” Camellia put in. “Neither stick-straight nor sausage curls.”
“We can’t all be as gorgeous as Nora,” Bryony grumbled. “Perhaps she could go in my place.”
“Or just teach you how to arrange your hair,” Dahlia said dryly, with a wink in Nora’s direction.
Her lungs froze. Since coming to London, Mr. Grenville had been the first non-relative to respect her as a person, and thus far the only person to treat her as if she were an equal.
Until today. Now there were three more people acting as though Nora were one of them.
She could scarcely believe her turn of fortune.
