Alan readjusted himself quickly, not because he disliked the contact, but because he enjoyed Grace’s warmth far too much, and that simply would not do. Thoughts of his father served as an excellent reminder of how ill-suited he was for her. For any lady, actually. What woman would want to be shackled to such an impetuous, reckless man? A man with blood on his hands and a whole lifetime of regrets in his heart.
Grace remained far too quiet, her gaze bouncing about the landscape. Her pink cheeks attested to the nip in the air, and he wondered if he’d kept her out too long. Or perhaps his admission of selfishness had made her leery of his company.
He adjusted his grip on the reins. “I’m sorry,” he blurted at the same time she said, “It’s hard to—”
“Pardon me,” he said. “I’d not meant to interrupt you.”
“No, it is I who interrupted you, but I’m confused as to why you feel you need to apologize again.”
“I fear I have made your excursion exceedingly morose.”
“Not at all. We both know what it is to lose a father, and I am honored that you would trust me with your regrets. I too harbor many in my own interactions with my father. It is hard to lose someone when you still have so much to say.”
He scoffed inwardly. How could someone as perfect as Grace have any regrets in her behavior? She was full of forgiveness and understanding. Even now, instead of castigating him for his obviously self-absorbed actions toward his father, she was connecting with him. Then again, she did not know the whole of things and hopefully he could keep it that way.
“Even so,” he said, “I’d not meant to burden you with my own regrets.”
Her hand pulled free of the robe across her lap, and she placed it on his forearm. “It is no burden, Lord Gladsby. We are friends, are we not? Friends share their burdens with one another. It makes the load so much lighter to bear.”
A warm tingle started at the spot where her hand lay upon his arm and feathered out until it engulfed his whole body. With it came a sense of rightness to her words. He wanted to linger in the sensation, but at the sight of his home, logic again took over.
He was not worthy to have his burden lifted. It was his fault, after all.
The moment they entered Engalworth, Grace was swept away by the other ladies. It should have been a relief, and for the rest of the day Alan tried to convince himself that it was, but the moment she entered the drawing room that evening he knew he was lying to himself. When she was with him, he truly felt his burden lifted, and it terrified him.
Could he really watch her go on and marry someone else?
Just the thought made him grimace. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to wipe the unwanted thought from his mind.
“Are you well?” Emma asked.
He turned to face his sister. She gazed up at him, concern written across her face, her completely grown-up face. How had his baby sister grown into such a beautiful and capable woman, but at the same time, an aggravating one? If it was not for her interference, Grace would not be going to London to find a husband.
Of course, it was only a matter of time until some local gentleman took notice of her. At least he’d have had more time before he had to step aside.
“Why did you—” He stopped himself. Asking Emma her motives with Grace in such close proximity would not be the best course of action. She might overhear them and all outcomes of that would spell disaster. At best, she would think he did not want her here. At worst, she’d think he was jealous and upset with his sister… which he was, but Grace was the last person who needed to know that.
“Why did I what, Alan?” Emma’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle as if she’d read him like her favorite book.
“Nothing.”
“I do not believe you.”
He ignored her comment. “What do you have planned for our after-dinner activity?”
She grinned. “Buffy Gruffy.”
A groan escaped him, and she chuckled. Alan had never really seen the appeal in a game where the blindfolded person had to guess a person’s identity by only the sound of their voice. It was too easy. No matter how much others disguised their voices, he always guessed right. It was excessively dull compared to more active games like Toilette.
Emma leaned in. “Come now, you can humor me just this once. Anthony loves the game. If you will indulge my husband tonight, we will choose whichever game you would like to play tomorrow.”
“Very well,” he said, just as Gibbons announced dinner.
Grace was tempted to rub her full belly to ease the tension but managed to resist the impulse. Whoever Lord Gladsby hired as cook was extremely talented, as the fare had been just as delicious tonight as it had last night. It made her all the more grateful that fashion had moved away from the corseted gowns of her mother’s era and into the looser ones of the current day. Now no one could tell she’d indulged herself far too much. Thankfully, by the time the men entered the drawing room after their port, her stomach had mostly settled.
“Bradley. Move this settee, won’t you?” Anthony said, referring to the place where Grace now sat. “We need to push it out of the way so we can circle the chairs. Do excuse us, won’t you, Grace?”
She wanted to ask why it could not be the other settee, when Lord Gladsby took hold of the other end.
