Good of her, Grace supposed. “Then why have you come?” she asked.
“Because I was invited for tea,” the countess said. She hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face. “Or at least I was, once. And I understand that I owe you my gratitude, for what you have done for my family. Or—or tried to do, at any rate.” She blew out a short breath, a tiny grimace tugging at her mouth. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I have not…been much out in society of late.”
No; Grace supposed she had not. And it was brave of her to come here, now, with her daughter in tow, no less. To offer her gratitude for Grace’s services for a task she believed had failed. Probably it felt as if her whole life had collapsed around her.
Probably she was in desperate need of a friend or two. People who would not shun her for her past, who would not shame her for those things which could not be changed.
And really, Eliza had always been kind to Tansy.
“I see,” she said. “Well, then. We have got space for a few more, I think. Provided you don’t mind the presence of children.”
“And cats?” Eliza asked hopefully. “I brought a piece of baconfor Tansy. She didn’t come to the garden yesterday; I hoped to see her here instead.”
The countess darted a baffled glance at her daughter. “You brought bacon? On yourperson?”
“Yes, of course.” Eliza lifted her wrist to show off the little pouch that dangled from it. “It’s in my reticule.”
Grace smothered a snicker behind the tips of her fingers at the countess’ aghast expression. “I believe she is presently sunning herself in the drawing room window, Lady Eliza, if you’d care to visit her. Tea will be upstairs presently, when you are ready. But I would like to speak with your mother in private for a few moments, if you don’t mind.” If only to provide the poor lady some small measure of peace of mind.
“Is there a problem, Gracie?” Uncle Chris asked as Eliza skittered off in the direction of the drawing room, a suspicious glint gleaming in his eyes. And she knew he must be thinking of that evening in his office not too long ago.
“Nothing for you to worry over.” She’d tell him someday, once the danger had passed. But that was a subject for another time. Presently, the countess had scraped together enough courage to come in spite of the possibility of rejection. It seemed the least she could do to welcome the woman, who, to the best of her knowledge, had never said or done anything to offend. “Will you walk with me in the garden, my lady?”
“Rose.” The name emerged from the countess’ mouth, scratchy and hoarse, as if it had clawed its way from her throat. “Rose is fine. I suppose I ought to accustom myself to it.”
Oh, dear. They really did have to have a chat. And the sooner, the better. “Will you walk with me in the garden, Rose?” she asked, and winced as a resounding crash came tumbling down the stairway, followed by a chorus of childish shrieks of dismay.
Rose’s eyes widened. “What on earth was that?” Her hands smoothed at her skirts in a faintly anxious motion, as if hernerves had suddenly taken leave of her.
Grace stepped toward her and threaded her arm through Rose’s before the poor woman could turn tail and flee for safety. “Most likely my nieces and nephews,” she said. “They’re lovely children, most of the time.”
Uncle Chris heaved an exasperated sigh. “They’re lovely childrenseparately,” he clarified. “Together, they’re a damned menace to society.”
“Flora has got devastating aim with her peashooter,” Grace explained. “Unfortunately, there are occasional…casualties.” And the splintery shatter within that crash had sounded rather expensive to her ears. “We’ll just have a bit of a walk while the mess is tidied up, hmm? And Uncle Chris—”
“I’ll tell Phoebe two more for tea,” he said begrudgingly. “If she ever manages to make her way inside.”
Rose held onto Grace’s arm as though it were a lifeline, her expression suggesting she might be reconsidering every choice which had led her to this particular moment. “I don’t suppose my sister-in-law will be joining us?” she asked hopefully as she allowed Grace to direct her toward the rear of the house. “I have missed her company,” she admitted.
“Not today, I’m afraid,” Grace said regretfully. “But we did so enjoy her company when last she came, and she knows she is welcome to return, so I imagine that we will see a great deal of her in the future. Alicia is a lovely woman.”
“There was a time that she was my only friend,” Rose said, and her head bowed as they strolled from the house out into the garden at last. “We were both strangers to the aristocracy, she and I. We became fast friends—though I have been a rather poor one of late.”
“Kind of you,” Grace said, “not to tar her with the same brush her husband rightly deserves.”
“Never,” Rose said loyally. “Alicia hasn’t got a connivingbone in her body. She can’t have known what Nigel intended.” A wry sort of smile, resigned and almost reconciled. “Still intends, I suppose. I suspect we are living on borrowed time. But I do thank you, most sincerely, for your efforts. It was too kind of you to lend your assistance to a problem that was none of your responsibility to solve.”
Some things were simply the right thing to do. She didn’t regret helping Henry as she had, and would not have allowed a private grievance to displace two innocent women from their rightful positions so a lesser man might steal a title to which he would never otherwise have been entitled. It was patently unfair that a mere few days had rendered Henry ineligible for the earldom, that a man whowasevery bit his father’s son could find himself disinherited over something so small, so inconsequential. The injustice of it had been worth fighting.
“I am certain Henry must have told you something of my particular skills,” Grace said as they wandered slowly through a row of roses.
“I’ll admit I was warned never to play cards with you,” Rose said, softening the words with a smile.
Grace laughed lightly. “Wise advice, unless you care to lose your money,” she said. “Cheating is a specialty of mine, and I’m very good at it. I’m very good at a great number of things, most of which would get me locked up in Newgate if I ever happened to be caught. But I am afraid I have reached the limits of what I can do.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking more of you than you have already done,” Rose said. “Especially not given Henry’s poor behavior of late.”
“I promise you, I am not so petty that I would refuse you my assistance because of your son’s actions,” Grace assured her. “You are not responsible for them, and I would not punish you on account of them. It’s just that Mr. Marsden knows wellenough that he’s been burgled already, and I am certain he must suspect that I was involved.” He simply hadn’t been able to prove it in any way that would have justified itself to an outside party. “He has got a passenger manifest,” she said, “that proves your husband was still aboard a ship on the date of your marriage. It is the one thing—theonlything—that can elevate him to an earldom. And he has got a mountain of debts in need of repayment, besides. He will do anything he must to protect that proof until he can make his case.”
