“Yes, Your Grace?”
Forcing myself to exhale slowly, I set my plan in motion. It is a dangerous, reckless plan, I know that. Just as well as I know it is my only way to win what I covet most. “Your daughter is a lovely woman. If I can be so bold, I declare her the loveliest of the Beau Monde.”
“It has been said so,” he acknowledges, his eyes growing sharper on me.
Do not lose heart now, Greyonyx. Say what you came to say, and let Fortune work her will.“I would be most honored to have her as my wife.”
If my declaration comes as a surprise, it does not show on Lord Denham’s face.
I admire that—albeit, begrudgingly.
“Your Grace flatters me! While you do me a great honor, and indeed, bestow esteem upon our humble house, I fear I must decline your generous proposal. There is a prior understanding for my daughter’s hand. I do hope you understand we are bound to honor our obligation.”
My chest tightens. This has all unfolded exactly as I anticipated, but it is what I say next that quickens my heart. I clasp my hands and lean forward, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with the man whose house I hope to soon join.
“I understand. I know the Lord Pembroke is a man of excellent character and honor.”
I see the slightest wrinkle in the Earl’s brow, but he nods.
“I have no desire to cause discord between any of our houses, but I would be remiss, my lord, if I did not share… troubling news with you. With all respect, duty demands I inform you of news I myself just recently became aware of.”
There is a shrewdness in the older man’s eyes as he regards me, but he waves a hand. “If you must, then by all means, speak freely.”
My heart is pounding like a drum in the tight prison of my chest. I force myself to speak. Ever since I decided on this course of action, I felt certain this moment would come. I have rehearsed it a thousand times in my mind, and yet, there is no accounting for the way the air feels still—almost stifling. I clench my fingers to stop from tugging at my cravat.
“It is a matter of… great consequence, I fear.”
He nods, his expression as sober as my tone. “I felt certain you would not trouble yourself otherwise.”
“It… it is the Lady Freya. I confess, it brings me discomfort to bring such tidings which will cause disquiet.”
“Your Grace, concealment serves no one. Please, I implore you to tell me all that you know.”
I clear my throat, doing my best to disregard the moisture on my palms that, if I were to wipe them, would surely betray me. “Lady Freya… the night of the ball… when she swooned, I realized… well, that is to say… I have very strong reason to believe your daughter to be…”
The Earl is not new to his position, or to the nobility, for that matter. In his shoes, I would have rushed a bumbling speaker. He is gracious, however, and gives me the time I need.
“I believe the Lady Freya to be with child.” The crux of the matter has come to my lips at last.
He clears his throat but does not pull his gaze from mine. “That is quite an accusation, Your Grace. I trust you would not bring such a matter to me unless you were absolutely certain.”
I have imagined this scene in my mind over and again. I have anticipated every possible reaction that Lord Denham might possibly have. Except for the one he gives me. Even so, I manage to answer. “I fear I am.”
He pauses, considering me carefully. “You have proof, I trust?”
This gives me pause—both the reaction I did not anticipate, and the question itself. I do not know what sort of proof I might offer in this regard. “I do not, my lord. I only just learned the news myself.”
His Lordship considers me thoughtfully, then signals to the butler who melted so seamlessly into the shadows I did not even realize he is still in the room.
“Yes, Your Lordship?”
“Please tell my daughter I require her presence.”
“Right away, my lord.”
We sit in silence. In several of my imaginings of this scene, I pictured Lord Denham trying to rip my head from my shoulders or dueling me for calling his daughter’s honor into question. Though he does neither of these things—at least at present—he is no less a formidable mien as he sits in silence. Yet, he does not seem uncomfortable in it. I cannot say the same for myself, however.
I find him rising a tad higher in my grudging esteem.
