“It would seem so.” Wolfe found himself quite jealous of his brother and sister. The two had found their way to paradise and left him behind, abandoned to the overly quiet and mismanaged halls of Wolfebourne Lodge.
Grace drew closer, stepping in front of him with her back to her sisters. “What is wrong?” she whispered.
Her intuitiveness to his self-serving emotions both touched and embarrassed him. What would she surely think of his selfishness? “Nothing is wrong, my lady. I am merely pondering all that must be done.”
“He is lying,” Lady Joy announced to all in the room. “Look at his eyes.”
“Joy!” Grace delivered a hard glare to her sister, then looped her arm through his. “His Grace merely needs some air. We shall be in the garden for a bit. Leave us be and talk among yourselves, as I am sure you will, and no, I do not need a chaperone.”
“Gracie.” Serendipity stepped forward. “You should not—”
“I should not be bothered with useless flummery about compromising situations when I am merely walking in the side garden, in broad daylight and full view of every window and door that looks upon it. Now, stop it. We shall return shortly after His Grace is feeling more himself.”
Wolfe maintained his silence, instinct warning it would be the ultimate in foolhardiness to try to mediate this conversation. While he’d never had to deal with so many sisters, he had observed enough of Chance’s struggles to learn a thing or two.
Grace ushered him out to the garden and firmly shut the door behind them. “It is clear you are overwhelmed by my family, but take heart. It took Thorne and Matthew some time to find theirfooting. You will too.” She halted then and studied him, wariness in her eyes. “That is…if you stillwishto find your footing?”
Her insecurities prodded him to reveal his earlier selfish inclinations. He prayed they wouldn’t drive her from him, but he couldn’t bear her to think he had so easily changed his heart and mind about her.
He remained silent as they ambled deeper into the garden and seated themselves among the roses on a bench warmed by the sun. “I would not describe my feelings asoverwhelmed, my lady.”
“I see.” She plucked at the folds of her skirt while staring straight ahead at the fragrant crimson blooms. “Then how would you describe them, Your Grace?”
“Wolfe—please?”
“Wolfe,” she repeated softly, but it made his heart sing. “How would you describe your feelings in the parlor, if not overwhelmed?”
“Jealous.”
She turned to him and arched a delicate blonde brow. “Jealous?”
“Yes, my lady, jealous.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.”
“Connor and Sissy have found safe haven. Paradise.” He risked taking her hand. Her touch both soothed and inflamed him. “I envy them because while they are free to stay here, I must return to the much-too-quiet halls of Wolfebourne Lodge, with so few servants that it is quite easy to feel as though I am the only soul left on earth.”
“Oh.” Concern echoed loud and true in that one little word she had so softly uttered. It made him smile.
“Yes.” He ran the heel of his thumb across the silkiness of her hand. “I’ve never been a patient man, and yet this predicament isof my own making because I waited so long to take action. Is that not irony itself?”
“It would seem so.” With her head bowed as she kept her gaze on their joined hands, the sunlight illuminated her golden hair, crowning her with a gleaming halo that entranced him.
“Are you truly real, Grace?” he whispered. “Or are you an ethereal being sent to save me from myself?”
She looked up at him, almost startled. Her blue eyes shone like gemstones, sparkling with a sheen of unshed tears. “I fear you will discover I am quite real, and then you will run from me as fast as you can go.”
He cupped her face in his hand. With the innocence of her trusting gaze, she transfixed him, drawing him in and making him care about nothing but remaining in her presence. “I will never escape you, my lady. Nor will I ever wish to try.”
She huffed and gave him a wry look. “I am fractious a good deal of the time, opinionated all the time, and, as you well know, so unconventional that even my family considers me hopeless at times.” She nodded as if to strengthen his defense. “There have been occasions when my sisters pretended not to know me.”
“How cruel,” he said, while running the backs of his fingers along the soft curve of her cheek. He so very badly wished to kiss her, but she had as much as thrown down the gauntlet to Serendipity, charging that their time in the garden need not be chaperoned. He had already failed one test by kissing her in the parlor. He didn’t need to fail another. “You are perfection, Grace.” He couldn’t resist a smile. “An ample pairing to my grumpiness, tendency to keep to myself, and hatred of theton’s ridiculous games and competitions with their parties, teas, and making sure they are seen while wearing their finest when walking Rotten Row.”
She brightened, her eyes flaring wide with surprise. “I hate those things too and would rather live in the country than ever set foot in London again.”
He kissed her hand, then pressed it to his cheek, memorizing the feel of her skin against his and dreaming of even more. “We are well matched indeed.”
“If only the way were clear,” she said so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.
