Tansy wound about his legs as he stood stock-still there beside the door, leaving a swatch of grey fur upon his dark trousers as she pleaded for his attention in sweet, plaintive mews.
No one had paid him any mind at first, owing to the sheer number of people present, moving from room to room, laughing and chatting. There had been no reason to take note of him; not when there was champagne to be drunk, merriment to be had, and well-intended teasing to be done.
But now hewasnoticed, and the volume dropped steadily until, person by person, all eyes turned toward him. Some with curiosity, some with dismay. Some with open dislike.
Felicity coughed into the cup of her hand, muttering, “Pigeon-livered arse-licker,” a touch too loudly as she did.
Henry had heard, of course, his dark brows drawing. And still he risked another few steps into the crowd of people who plainly resented his presence. Said, “I understandcongratulations are in order,” and extended his hand to Danny.
Pleasant to the last. Clinging to those polite rituals to which he had long been accustomed, despite the fact that he must be painfully aware by now that they would gain him nothing here. Still, Grace supposed, there was a sort of courage in it. To have set foot again within her home after having been ejected from it once already.
Danny must’ve thought so, too. “Hell,” he said, as he lifted himself from his position beside Hannah. “You’re an odd one, Lockhart,” he said as he shook the hand Henry had extended to him. “But damned if I can’t respect the audacity of it. Someone get the bloke a glass of champagne; he looks in dire need of it.”
Yes, he did, rather, though Grace suspected he was more than a little suspicious of the glass that found its way into his hand. He stared down at the liquid within for a moment or two as though it might well contain some sort of poison—and then she supposed he must have decided he didn’t care if it did, for he gave a little shrug of his shoulders and drank it down.
Conversation resumed in fits and starts, the volume gradually rising. Henry, to his credit, seemed to sense he was meant to stay where he was until he had been granted permission to approach, and so he stood awkwardly near the center of the room, alone.
“Five minutes, you said,” Grace said to Uncle Chris, beneath her breath.
“Only that,” he replied. “What he does with them is his concern.” A cheeky grin played about his mouth. “I didn’t promise privacy. I didn’t even promise ye’d listen.”
Grace sipped her champagne slowly. “Why?” she asked.
“If ye must know, I felt sorry for ‘im,” Uncle Chris sighed. “He’s ‘ad a time just lately, yes? And not a good one. Bound to make a man go a bit mad, the prospect of losin’ everything what ought to be ‘is.” He nudged her shoulder. “Though I suspect yegot somethin’ up yer sleeve there, since ye didn’t ask more assistance o’ me.”
“Your assistance comes with conditions,” she said lightly. “I would have, though, if it had come to it.” It was just that Uncle Chris’ assistance occasionally lacked subtlety, and it was always best to manage certain matters with as much delicacy as possible.
“Thought so.” He cast one arm over the back of the couch. “’E impressed me tonight,” he said, “and that’s not easily done.”
“What,” Grace asked, with a roll of her eyes, “because he plowed his fist into Lord Latimer’s face until he had to be pulled off of him?”
“No,” Uncle Chris said, “though I do admit it was satisfying as ‘ell to watch.” He offered her a wry grin. “’E impressed me,” he said, “because I offered him a choice. Told ‘im I’d help with one of ‘is problems—justone. And ‘e chose you. No hesitation at all.”
Grace felt her brow furrow. “Probably he’s spoken with his mother,” she said. “She knows everything.”
“I’d wager my fortune he hasn’t,” Uncle Chris said. “Said yer little scheme had come to naught. That in short order he wouldn’t have much to offer. But he still chose you over all. So I thought, where’s the harm in five minutes? Either ‘e redeems ‘imself, or he don’t.” A shrug, as if it mattered little to him one way or another.
Grace’s champagne had run dry, and she considered her empty glass, wondering if the drink were in any way responsible for the unsettled feeling in her stomach. She lifted her eyes to Henry, still alone there in the center of the room, notably excluded from the conversations taking place around him.
He had earned the general apathy he received from her family, but he bore up beneath it stoically as he stooped to a crouch to give his attention to the only creature in the room that would presently acknowledge him—Tansy.
Her unfaithful cat had taken a liking to him. Tansy, who liked no one else, purred beneath the gentle scratches of Henry’s fingers beneath her chin. And he had taken a liking to her, too. The tiniest hint of a smile curled at the corner of his lips as he said something, low and soft, that Grace couldn’t hear. But which had looked rather like,Good evening, Tansy. I’ve missed you.
“All right,” she sighed. “Five minutes.”
“Oi, Lockhart.” Uncle Chris lifted his hand, made a beckoning gesture with his fingers as he stood. “’Ave my seat, then.” He clapped Henry on the shoulder as he made his approach. “Five minutes,” he said. “Make good use of ‘em. Ye’ll be thrown out on yer arse at the end if Gracie says so.”
Felicity rose to her feet as well, rendering the couch somewhat less crowded than it had been. “Don’t mind me,” she said, with only the slightest sliver of menace in her voice. “I’m going to fetch Ian’s pocket watch.”
As Henry settled onto the couch beside her, there was a curious whistling sound. Henry uttered a low curse as a dried pea struck him in the forehead and tumbled into his lap.
Grace swallowed a snicker. “They’re just children,” she said.
“It wasn’t a child,” he muttered.
“How could you know that?”
“Because the little devils went scampering off minutes ago, and there’s not a child in sight. And,” he said, with a disconsolate sigh, “it’s not the first time I’ve been struck this evening. Someone brought one of those damned peashooters to the St. John ball.” He had a sort of hangdog look about him, as if he had resigned himself to the unhappy role of victim of such pranks, at least for the foreseeable future. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he clasped his hands before him and said, “So. Your cousins are getting married.”
