Grace sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “I think the greater question is whether you will share a story. I know how much you like ghostly tales.”
“Of course I will. It would not be Christmas without some theatrics.” Prudence popped up and yanked on the bellpull.
For the most part, they helped each other dress, but Diana’s maid had been a godsend as the Pratt’s abilities with hair quite outstretched their own. Grace treasured such a talent on a day like today.
She’d laid awake far into the night, replaying Lord Gladsby’s kiss over and over. There had been warmth in his gaze. She was certain of it. Add to that his sister’s involvement in this crazy matchmaking scheme and there must be some credence to the assumption that Lord Gladsby had feelings for her. Why else would so many of their friends and family get tangled up in bringing them together?
She tried to hide her smile from Pru as they readied for the day. Her whole life, she’d done her best to make others’ lives easier. Why not lighten her would-be matchmakers’ load by taking special care with her appearance today?
A half hour later they descended to the breakfast room. Grace smiled when Anthony paused in his conversation with her brother to take note of their entrance.
“You both are looking lovely today.” His gaze flicked between them, landing decidedly on her. “That shade of red is quite stunning on you, Grace.”
Lady Hamdon nodded. “I have to agree. It brings out the natural highlights in your hair.”
She ducked her head at such praise. Unfortunately, the one person she’d hoped to impress was not at the table. A quick perusal of the breakfast room assured her he had not yet arrived.
Even if she’d not had the grand entrance she’d hoped for, she was certain Lord Gladsby would be just as pleased with her appearance as the others. Hopefully more.
However, when morning crept into afternoon and then into evening without one interaction with him, she worried. No one else appeared concerned that the master of the house had yet to appear, but there was a decided unease. Had he taken sick from his visit to Mr. Clayton? Certainly she would have been informed if that was the case.
The time came to dress for dinner and still he did not appear, so Grace made her way to her bedchamber, disappointed he’d not seen her festive day dress but even more fearful that their kiss last evening had somehow offended him.
She had no experience as far as kisses were concerned, but she’d thought the exchange one of the loveliest of her whole life. Maybe for him, however, it had been a disappointment. Perhaps he’d expected more? Or could it have been too much? She let out a sigh.
How was she to know, naïve country miss that she was?
The loud creak of a floorboard floated through the open court area and she glanced up, searching for the cause. Across the wide-open expanse on the side of the house that held the family wing, Lord Gladsby crept toward the back of the house toward the servants’ stairs. So that was how he’d been moving about without crossing paths with anyone.
She clenched her teeth. It was awfully immature of him to sneak about just because of a simple mistletoe kiss. Did he think her unable to differentiate between an annual holiday tradition and sincere interest?
Grace’s shoulders slumped, knowing that was exactly what she’d done.
A man of his age and experience, who’d traveled outside of Britain and probably captivated a fair amount of females, would have easily seen obvious interest in her gaze.
Slipping into her room, she shut the door and placed her back against it. How embarrassing.
Had he seen her attention to her appearance and decided he needed to put distance between them? Or perhaps he’d stumbled across his sister’s matchmaking scheme and now meant to thwart them by being absent. Either way, she’d overestimated his feelings and now was ashamed of what her own had been.
Alan’s feet crunched in the snow as he approached the stable. He should be dressing for dinner, tonight being the eve of Christmas, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it yet.
Already today he’d snapped at Mrs. Gibbons for not giving him enough notice before entering with his tea. The poor woman had apologized at least three times, but it wasn’t her fault. He’d been the one on edge, a hand in his desk drawer, knife clenched in his fist.
He should have Gibbons remove his stash of weaponry around the house. But without a means to defend himself… his heart raced and his forehead beaded with sweat, even in the freezing evening air.
He’d kept a knife at his side morning and night ever since his first month as a spy. It had saved his life multiple times. And even though he’d not faced a single life-threatening experience in over two years, he still couldn’t shake the habit.
Pulling his coat tighter, he increased his pace, wishing the added speed would help him outrun the memories that dogged his heels.
The large double doors to the stable were open a crack, and he ducked in. The area was warm compared to the chill outside and the smell of straw and horses calmed his racing thoughts. He passed the bay mare he used for his carriage, her head bobbing as she dozed. Three stalls down, his dapple-grey stallion peeked over the chest high door. The horse’s big brown expectant eyes brought a smile to his face, and he picked up a wooden bucket to fill with grain.
The moment the kernels hit the bottom of the bucket, the spirited animal shook his head and stomped his feet. Alan understood his excitement. Certain sounds elicited reactions in him, too.
Just the sound of Grace’s soft footfalls on the stairs not a quarter hour ago had made his heart pick up its pace. The sight of her in a festive red dress had been a treat he’d tried to avoid all day. He’d drank in the picture for as long as he’d felt was safe before slinking away.
Not that he didn’t wish to be near her. He did, most desperately. But he knew how volatile he was right now and the last thing he wanted was to hurt someone in his current rattled state.
The closer he got to the stall, the more excited Apollo became, tossing his head as if to say, “Stop dawdling, you dolt, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
