When she opened her eyes, she was startled to find the entire room had fallen silent.
A breathless pause.
Then, the applause erupted—thunderous and enthusiastic. Compliments rained down upon her, smiles beaming from every corner of the room.
But the Duke—he did not clap.
He stood apart, by the mantelpiece, arms folded. His expression was unreadable, his gaze locked onto hers. Something flickered in his hazel eyes—something she could not quite decipher.
Was it admiration? Pain? Longing?
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Lord Edward approached, and the lingering way his gaze roamed over her caused her skin to prickle as an uncomfortable shiver ran through her. ‘Why, Miss Skye, you have the voice of anangel.’
Grace exhaled, regaining her composure. ‘My lord,you agreednot to say anything furtheroutrageous, at least for this evening.’
Duly chastised, he inclined his head in mock solemnity.
‘Quite right. I shall postpone my remarksuntil tomorrow.’
Grace let out a soft, uneasy laugh.
And yet, she could not shake the thought—how could a man with suchcharmandgood humourharbour such darkness?
If, indeed, hewasthe murderer.
EVERY YEAR, THEtoneagerly anticipated the start of the Season. Private balls were always well attended, and this year, the Armitage family was hosting one. Despite a few raised eyebrows about the family being in mourning, the majority overcame their scruples to enjoy a good dance. If Grace and Heather had thought the house was lively before, now it was a veritable storm of activity. Footmen darted back and forth. Maids polished silver and glass with frantic precision, their sleeves dusted with chalk powder. The air was thick with the scent of fresh roses, beeswax, and an undercurrent of nervous tension. The ballroom doors had been thrown open, revealing a dazzling display of crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors while servants flitted about, arranging garlands with meticulous care. Even Holden, ever composed, wore the weary look of a man overseeing a battle.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, appeared invigorated.
‘I love this time of year, but it just won’t be the same without Father and Gareth,’ she sighed. ‘They were the life and soul of the place. I remember the time Gareth brought in a most risqué ice sculpture—it was the scandal of the Season, second only to the Richmond sisters eloping.’ She chuckled to herself.
Grace had offered to finish writing the invitations since Elizabeth’s eyes were strained, but she had not realised what she was letting herself in for. Her hand cramped painfully. She welcomed the interruption. ‘An ice sculpture? How unusual.’ Stretching her fingers and walking over to the tea tray, she poured her third cup. ‘What was he like?’
Elizabeth relaxed into her armchair. ‘Oh, he was full of life, always looking for the next adventure. Never one to sit idle. If he were here today, he would be pacing up and down the room.’ She smiled. ‘I would get so vexed with him—he was always antsy.’ She patted Grace’s hand as she accepted another cup of tea.‘Thank you, dear. Well ... enough of this nostalgia. Tell me, do you have a beau waiting for you back home?’
Grace choked a little on her tea. Spluttering to clear her throat, she replied, ‘Err, no, not to my knowledge, anyhow.’
Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I find that hard to believe—are all the men there blind?’
Grace choked again and hastily placed her cup at a safe distance on the table. ‘I have lived a sheltered life. Being immersed in Estate work has left little time to entertain such matters.’
‘Yes, Gabriel did mention something of that nature. Still, I think you should try to find a husband alongside your sister. You are much admired by Edward, I have noticed. What do you think of him?’
Grateful she was no longer drinking tea—this revelation might have been the death of her—Grace replied as diplomatically as she could muster, ‘He is a most charming gentleman, but I am under no illusion that he would offer me marriage. I am sure there are many more eligible ladies for him to choose from rather than a penniless country spinster.’
‘Au contraire, my dear, you shouldn’t sell yourself short. A caring and clever wife is the best companion for a man. I think he is much taken with you, and I would be surprised if he doesn’t ask by the end of the Season. I know he can be a little flirtatious, but he is a good man underneath it all. When he asks, I think you should consider it.’
The very notion sent a chill through her. Marrying a man she suspected of murder? A man whose charm was nothing but a finely polished veneer, concealing something far darker? The thought alone was suffocating.
She shot up from the couch as if burned. ‘Look at the time—I must finish these invitations.’ Her voice was too bright, too hurried, but Lady Elizabeth, thankfully, did not seem to notice.
Both ladies diligently resumed their work. Meanwhile, Grace furiously devised a plan to expose Edward. She needed to act fast before matters spiralled out of control.
Chapter 23
The day of the ball arrived, and Heather’s gown was delivered just in time. It was greatly admired by the Skye sisters and Mrs Merriweather—the pearl detailing was exquisite on the silk white dress. To Grace’s disappointment, her own gown had not yet arrived and might not come at all. The ladies of the house spent the day in preparation; there was much to be done. Maids rushed in and out of chambers, footmen filled and removed baths, and the air buzzed with excitement.
