She let out a sigh. “Just trust me on this, Pru.”
“Is this one of your intuitions?”
“I suppose we could call it that.”
Prudence exhaled slowly. “I suppose I could keep it a secret, but it’s far less fun. Imagine what a lark it would be to turn the whole thing on Bradley and Diana’s heads. Of course, then you would not get Lord Gladsby, which is probably why you do not want him to know.” She stopped and looked Grace up and down. “Or is there something else?”
Her sister was fishing for information and she knew it. Instead of answering, she stretched and let out a big yawn. “I’m exhausted, Pru. Can we just go to bed?”
Prudence sighed. “I know your fabricated yawns from your real ones, Grace, but I suppose it is time for us to turn in.”
Grace smiled. As much as she complained about sharing a room with Prudence, it was nice having her here tonight. Perhaps she’d actually get some sleep after all.
Chapter 7
When Alan awoke, he discovered a thick layer of snow had fallen throughout the night. It was not unusual to have a snowstorm or two during the winter, but it was rarely deep enough for a sleigh before Christmas. This year, it seemed, would be the exception.
After consulting with Mrs. Gibbons over what items would be best for his ailing uncle, Alan made his way to the breakfast parlor. His brother-in-law sat across from Grace, the two chatting amicably as they enjoyed breakfast.
He smiled as he filled his plate at the sideboard. They were discussing Hamdon’s new favorite topic—his son George. Grace laughed and asked questions in all the right places, something that would endear her to his brother-in-law forever. He took the seat next to her and a footman instinctively filled his cup with coffee.
“Thank you, Thatcher,” he said reflexively.
The footman nodded and took up his place by the door again.
Hamdon set his fork down and dabbed his mouth. “Grace was just telling me of Mr. Clayton’s illness. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I believe I have everything in order. Mrs. Gibbons in preparing a basket of food and remedies that I intend to deliver after I break my fast.”
“Perhaps you should like some company? Emma is still abed and I, for one, would like to visit Mr. Clayton if he is not to come here.”
Alan glanced between the two. Mr. Clayton had been so specific about not getting anyone else ill.
“It might be contagious, Hamdon. You would not want to bring that back to little George.”
Alan was hesitant himself, but if he did not go, that would leave a servant to carry it over, and they were just as likely to catch the sickness as himself. Probably more so, if it was Mr. or Mrs. Gibbons. No, it was best he go himself. His body was robust enough to handle a little winter cold.
Hamdon frowned down at his plate. “I see. That is a worry.” Then he glanced at Grace. “What are your plans for the morning, Grace?”
“I assumed your wife would have had plans for us, so I have not made any of my own.”
“Well, last night’s snow has left the land quite pretty. Perhaps we could all ride over in the sleigh with Gladsby—at least I assume that is how you plan to travel.” He turned to Alan.
“Yes, but the sickness—”
“Oh, we do not need to go in; we’ll just wait in the beautiful outdoors.”
Alan glanced at Grace, trying to read her expression. She was staring at Hamdon, her brow knit as if she was confused, or maybe pondering his suggestion. Was she worried about the ride in the cold?
“I would enjoy your company,” he finally said to Hamdon, “but it is quite crisp out, and I would not want to cause Miss Lenning any discomfort.”
Grace’s eyes shot to him; her fork suspended in midair with her last bite of food. “Oh, I do not mind the cold, but I would not like to intrude on your visit if you’d rather go alone.”
“It is no colder than it was yesterday,” Hamdon insisted. “Plus, we’ll have the lap robes. It will be plenty warm and, like Gladsby said, he’d love the company.”
A small smile curved her lips, and she dipped her head in assent. “All right then, when would you like to leave?”
Alan glanced down at his full plate, then over at her empty one. “I need some time to finish my breakfast, but we can leave after that. The basket for Mr. Clayton should be nearly ready by then.”
