Sitting up, he climbed out of bed and went to her water table. Picking up a washcloth, he dipped it in water and went back to Grace. He attempted to clean her, but she was quick to take it from him.
“Thank you.”
He watched, feeling muddled. This was not what he had expected and yet, it was exactly what he had agreed to. A situation without attachments.
“I suppose I should dress then?” She shrugged. “And be on my way?”
“If you think so.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly encouraging. Deciding not to further embarrass himself, he began to dress, as did she, although she dressed in a night gown. It was night, but what the exact time was, James didn’t know. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, but he wasn’t likely to get any sleep here and she would refuse letting him stay, should her aunt come back in the middle of the night.
“Thank you,” she said, and for some reason James felt a small little stab in the heart at her words, but he had agreed to her terms and therefore had no room to speak.
“Of course,” he said and with a final nod, he left.
Walking through the house and out the back kitchen, across the street, James felt wholly empty. Like a discarded rag. When he reached his front door, he turned back to gaze up to see if she was maybe looking out of her window, but to his own misery, he found that she wasn’t and so he opened the door to his house and tried not to think about how painful an encounter it had actually been.
Chapter Fourteen
The ballroom atMr. Milton’s estate house, aptly named Milton House, that had been built on the very edge of Glasgow proper, was one of the most extravagant rooms that Grace had ever laid eyes on. In all her years in London, even during her presentation to the queen during her coming out, never had Grace beheld such magnificence.
The gold filigree walls were taller than any she had ever seen and the glass window panes that allowed the evening sky to shine down on them was a wonder in and of itself, save for the four massive crystal chandeliers, each identical to the last and positioned in between the large skylights. It was not only a modern marvel, but a glowing display of status and fortune. Nearly every guest there, and there were hundreds of people, all kept their heads bent backwards to gaze up at the pitched roof and the stars above, amazed at the craftsmanship, if not the expense.
“Goodness,” Belle said as she, Arabella, and Grace reached the refreshment table after having been introduced by the footman. “This is as grand as any palace I’ve been to, and I’ve been to my fair share.”
“Mr. Milton must be the wealthiest man in Scotland, if not one of the richest in the entire world,” Arabella said, her gaze heavenward.
“It is very nice,” Grace said, taking a glass of lemonade from a servant to take a sip. To her embarrassment, the citrusy taste reminded her of James.
Grace had lain in bed for hours after he left that night, staring up at the canopy above her bed, stunned that she should feel so desperate for him. She hadn’t wanted to be so affected and she forced herself to stay in bed instead of running to the window to watch him. She needed to remain impartial, even though every inch of her wanted to demand that he stay with her.
It had sent her into a spiraling sort of depression, containing her feelings the way she had. But what could she do? She didn’t want her feelings to get in the way and yet, her heart ached every time she saw him.
It was miserable.
“Nice is an understatement,” Arabella muttered.
Itwasan understatement, yes, but Grace couldn’t help it. Mrs. Stevens had tied her corset too tight and it was pinching her skin, directly in the center of her back. While the result had been stunning, as the pale green gown that had been embroidered with dainty white lilies that Grace wore had caused several people to stare openly, it wasn’t enough to sate her. She’d rather be comfortable than breathtaking.
She glanced at her companions, who were staring at her blankly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nice?” Belle repeated. “My dear, daisies are nice. This is extravagance. Vulgar even in its décor. Certainly, a telltale sign of new money.”
“I think it’s elegance incarnate.”
“It’s very… posh,” Grace tried again, but failed to do so.
While Milton House was certainly an impressive bit of architecture, and she had never seen such grandness before, it mattered little as her entire being was preoccupied with thoughts of James.
No. Dr. Hall. She would cease being so familiar with him if he was to behave so boorish, which is exactly how he had been behaving the entire past week. Every day, he barely spoke to her unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then his attitude was singular and his speech monotone, except for when she made the foolish attempt to speak with him about possibly meeting in secret. He had practically barked at her, telling her that her experiment was deranged and that he hoped she had a fine time at Mr. Milton’s ball and not to expect seeing him as he would not be going. It was a vast difference from all the praise he had bestowed on her when they were—
She took another bracing gulp of her lemonade, forcing the memory out of her mind. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think about that here. Not in front of so many people, particularly her aunt and friend, who were watching her with such blatant curiosity that she was becoming annoyed. Her aunt and Arabella exchanged looks.
“What is it?” she asked, placing her glass down on the table.
“Well, dear, it’s just that you’ve been rather quiet lately, and well, we had hoped that coming to Mr. Milton’s ball might cheer you up a bit.”
“Yes, you’ve possessed a—melancholy, I suppose—as of late and we had thought that maybe your spirits might be lifted coming here.”
