Chapter Twenty-one
Grace wasn’t sure why her nerves were taut. Perhaps she was simply reacting to the tension radiating from Lord Sterling. She cast a sidelong glance at him, noting the tight frame of his shoulders, the thin line of his lips, and the way his tone was ever so clipped.
The man was a bundle of nerves, and she was still irritated with him to the point of enjoyment of his discomfort. In fact, she was sorely tempted to compound it if possible.
Lord Sterling picked up his pace, his body language clearly indicating that he was anxious to be rid of her, so, with a mischievous grin she tried desperately to suppress, she slowed her steps.
Her guardian slowed as well, and she waited eagerly for Lord Sterling to notice how they lagged behind.
She cast a glance to the viscount, who had just finished explaining some sort of historical aspect of the room, and he shared a grin with her as he turned his gaze toward Lord Sterling. He arched a brow, indicating that he was fully aware of her mischief, but did nothing to temper it; if anything, she noted that the viscount’s steps slowed even more than hers!
It was a lovely thing to have an ally.
She returned her attention to Lord Sterling’s back a moment before he paused, then turned. His brows were knit over his expressive eyes, frustration and impatience stamped in his expression as he released a sigh. “Woolgathering?”
“Indeed,” Grace answered, halting her progress entirely while she spoke. “The viscount was just relaying some interesting information about the historical relevance of this hall.” She prayed that Lord Sterling wouldn’t ask the particulars, since she hadn’t the slightest clue as to what they were.
“I see,” Lord Sterling replied tightly. “If you are interested in the historical aspects, then I might suggest we see the ballroom first. It’s rather antique in many aspects.” He gestured to the left.
Heathcliff chimed in. “An excellent idea.”
As she resumed following Lord Sterling, he continued the conversation. “Besides, there is not much more to see besides the ballroom. That is the main location of all the events, and then you can still have time to yourself this afternoon. I’m sure a walk through Hyde Park would be just the thing.”
Grace bit her lip to keep from grinning. Ah, the true motives were revealed.Hurry up, see it, and then leave, quickly.
“It’s raining, Ramsey. I highly doubt Miss Grace wishes to parade through the park in such a downpour as we had as we arrived.”
Grace caught a wink from the viscount and she restrained a giggle as she turned her attention to Lord Sterling’s back. There was a slight hitch in his shoulders. “It’s London, it’s always raining. Besides, I’m quite certain that Miss Grace is more than resilient enough to endure a little rain.”
“It was quite the downpour,” Grace felt the need to add, just to be contrary.
“Downpours seldom last long,” Lord Sterling replied, glancing over his shoulder to them.
The viscount took a breath as if to say something, but they had reached a wide double door that was firmly shut. Lord Sterling paused, then opened one of the doors, revealing a dimly lit room. All Grace’s other questions melted as she struggled to see into the semidarkness. The shape of tables littered the room, and she took a step forward, and to her surprise, Lord Sterling stepped out of her way, allowing her passage.
The room had a distinct odor, not unpleasant, but also not quite like anything she’d ever smelled before. It was an odd mix of old cigar smoke, brandy, and some sort of stale perfume. The room was masculine in its style and tenor. The wood tables were far more substantial than what she had expected, along with the chairs. Each table was labeled with a particular purpose or game, and as she walked further into the room, she noted a long wooden table along the back of the ballroom, with several other doors leading out. There was a smaller area cleared for what she assumed to be dancing, and all around them were polished glassware and silver, all awaiting a footman’s tray and some sort of drink to fill it.
“Well?” The viscount’s voice pulled her from her musings and she turned to face him. He was grinning, clearly amused by her immediate exploration.
She glanced at Lord Sterling, who seemed ready to haul her out by force if she didn’t hurry up and get her interest satisfied.
Little did he know that was an impossible feat. Her inquisitiveness could never be satisfied once she learned the truth. When her guardian had, in very polite terms, let her know what his night escapades included, along with the location and names of his associates, her curiously grew to mammoth proportions and it was still expanding.
But the viscount was awaiting her response, so she addressed him. “It’s far different than I had in mind.”
“Because you had some sort of frame of reference?” Lord Sterling replied with a hint of sarcasm.
She gave him an arch look before continuing. “I’ve never been in one, mind you, but there were quite a few gambling establishments in India. They were mad about cricket, so I’m certain that there wasn’t a game played that didn’t have an unholy number of bets placed.” She gave a shake of her head. “It was quite obsessive. My mother was set against it, but my father bet once. He lost, of course, but it was only a trivial amount of money so my mother never found out. It was a lovely little secret we kept between us,” Grace mused, a wave of mourning dampening her excitement.
“Cricket.” The viscount nodded. “Good sport.”
“You’d certainly think so,” Lord Sterling replied.
The viscount turned to his friend, a grin spreading across his face. “Just because you could never play well.”
Grace glanced to Lord Sterling, eager for his reply. “I nearly have to fold myself in half just to use the bloody bat.”
The viscount rolled his eyes. “You’re not much taller than I.”
