“Yes,” he said. “So we must not betray Grace’s trust, just as she has promised not to betray ours.”
“She knows?” It emerged on a thin little wail, aching and devastated. That ever-present shame, killing her soul a piece at a time.
“She would be the last person to judge, and she’s agreed to help us, besides,” Henry said. “Grace was, at one point in her life, a thief. Her fingers are every bit as nimble as ever they were; a fact to which I can attest myself. I gained her an invitation to Aunt Alicia’s dinner party so that while I have occupied the gentlemen with cards after dinner, she may sneak away to UncleNigel’s study and retrieve whatever evidence”—or evidence of evidence, as it were—“which he might happen to possess.”
Mother’s lips parted on a shocked breath. “Miss Seymour agreed to this?”
“In fact, it was her suggestion,” he said. “Which is why I asked you to play cards. I have been charged with distracting the gentlemen with cards rather than billiards. It would be beyond foolish for Miss Seymour to burglarize a room directly beside the billiards room, after all. So I am to keep the gentlemen—but most especially Uncle Nigel—invested in cards in order to leave Grace free to wander. And to do that, I must keep him losing.”
Mother’s shoulders sank. “I’m sorry to disappoint,” she said. “But if your aim was to practice cards, then I have been a poor partner. I’ve lost every hand thus far.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been practicing.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Grace is also skilled in sleight of hand. She taught me a few tricks when I called upon her today. You lost,” he said, and felt the tiniest bud of hope bloom in his chest, “because I’ve been cheating.” Competently.Ably, even.
And Mother had not noticed anything amiss. That pit of anxiety which had gnawed at his stomach these last days felt suddenly almost manageable; his cause somewhat less hopeless than it had felt only moments ago.
Mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Henry,” she said. “Do you think this is wise?”
No; of course it wasn’twise. But it was necessary. “Grace believes it is possible,” he said. “And really, Mother, we are not in a position to refuse the aid of someone who would help rescue us from our present predicament.”
There was a strain in her face; a tightness about her eyes which still shied away from his. “You speak as if you have developed a fondness for her,” she ventured quietly.
Fondnesswasn’t quite the right word for it. For his entire life, he had known he had something to prove. That he would have to rise above the scandal and gossip which had colored the early years of his life, to demonstrate himself to be the very model of what an earl was meant to be.
The path which he had been set upon from birth allowed little room for childhood foibles, for those slips which might be forgiven in another. Any misstep, no matter how minor, would be proof positive that he was no better than he ought to be. He was meant to excel in his studies, to manage his estates, to prove himself honorable and decent in all matters. Eventually to marry precisely the right sort of woman, and to sire a handful of little heirs to carry on his legacy into the next generation. Therightway to live—theonlyway, according to his position and his situation.
No matter what private feelings he might have harbored, the fascination he’d long held for Grace Seymour was not just a minor misstep. It would be a divergence from the path he was meant to walk entirely. He knew it intellectually, and yet he had never been able to shake himself of that fascination, that helpless fixation he had long had upon her.
Only now it was tinged with shades of admiration. With gratitude. With respect and awe.
“I am grateful to her,” he said, folding his hands over the deck of cards between them. “Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
“Henry,” Mother said imploringly, and as if on instinct she reached out, her fingers hovering over his. A moment, two—her fingers fell to the surface of the table without ever making contact. “Your father and I,” she said, her voice falling once more, like a stone cast into a well, “made so many mistakes. I couldn’t bear to watch you make the same ones.”
And there it was again; the dull ache of shame. A familiar companion after so many years. His hand could almost feel thephantom press of hers upon it, the touch she had not been able to force herself to offer.
They had made mistakes, of course, his parents. But he would always be the greatest of them all.
Chapter Ten
You have a lovely home, Mrs. Marsden,” Grace said as she accepted the glass of sherry Lord Lockhart’s aunt extended to her. The ladies had withdrawn to the drawing room after dinner, and Mrs. Marsden had immediately set about making her guests comfortable, as a good hostess was meant to do. But she had paid a special attention to Grace, a special sort of welcome—like a loving aunt would certainly do, for a lady favored by a beloved nephew.
“That’s very kind of you,” Mrs. Marsden said as she settled onto the couch beside Grace. “I’m so pleased that you accepted our invitation, Miss Seymour.”
“Grace. Please. Let us not stand on ceremony.”
“Grace, then. And you must call me Alicia.” The woman offered her a shy sort of smile. “My nephew seems rather taken with you. I must admit, I had despaired of him taking any true interest in the Season.”
“Had you?” Grace inclined her head. “May I ask why?
“He’s always been a rather solemn sort, my nephew,” Alicia said. “Henry was the dearest little boy there ever was, but soserious. I suppose I thought—I thought he would do his duty, eventually, but that it always would be a duty to him. So it was apleasant surprise indeed to see him so enjoying his dance with you.” Her eyes were warm and fond, the corners crinkled just a little.
One could always tell by the eyes. Not for nothing were they said to be the window to the soul; it was too simple, when one truly looked, to see what sort of person lay behind them.
“I must thank you,” Grace said, “for your invitation. My family is not the sort that often receives such genuine welcome into homes like yours.”
