Grace felt a flood of relief at hearing her name had not been exposed. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding. Yet, an unsettling thought lingered at the back of her mind—how much longer could she remain anonymous in this unfolding drama?
She managed a weak smile, trying to maintain a sense of composure. She was trying to remain philosophically stoical as much as possible after a night of tear-soaked cathartic pillow bashing. There was little to be done now. The Duke had admitted to being attracted to her, but that attraction had not been strong enough for him to fight against societal constraints—or his own reluctance towards matrimony.
At the fifth hour of tossing and turning, she had come to a bitter resolution. She had practically flung herself at him—metaphorically, at least—by asking about his intentions. What had she expected? She had humiliated herself with her forwardness, and she could not, in good conscience, be angry with him for his reply.
Despite her heartbreak, she bore him no malice. He had done nothing that countless other aristocratic men wouldn’t do. He was not the man she had once thought him to be, but he was no worse than most gentlemen of her acquaintance.
Why, then, should she pine for someone who did not love her enough to marry her?
The thought comforted her—if only a little. To her, he would simply be the Duke of Armitage, and nothing more.
‘Never mind all that, Heather,’ she said lightly, keen to steer the conversation elsewhere. She would tell her sister the truth eventually, but right now, she did not have the strength to relive it. ‘Tell me about the young bucks who were hovering around you last night. Did anyone catch your eye?’
Heather blushed prettily. ‘Perhaps... but I am not sure. Mr Howard was very attentive, but he’s rather thin. Captain Littleis quite handsome, but he is very reserved—I don’t know much about him. And then there’s Mr Brock. He was a little rude at first, but now I think we are becoming friends.’
‘Well, don’t go breaking too many hearts,’ Grace advised, speaking from experience.
She rose from the bed, making a show of busying herself. Her blasted eyes threatened to produce yet more tears, so she turned her back to Heather and hastily wiped them away.
She had to remain level-headed. There was still a killer at large, and she was convinced it had to be Lord Edward. She had given her word that she would help find evidence against him. Even if the Duke had manipulated her into assisting him, she would still do it.
‘I think you are right; I should be more careful. I know the pain of heartbreak and would be ashamed if I caused it in another,’ Heather admitted.
Grace winced. She had not intended to remind her sister of past heartache. Tentatively, she asked, ‘Do you still think about him?’
Heather smiled wistfully. ‘I do think of him often, and I still prefer Mr Smith above all the men I have met, but I know it cannot happen. He must be married by now. I will strive to forget him.’
‘I fear you may not be able to sufficiently move on,’ Grace said softly. ‘I only wish to see you happy. But I have noticed a lingering sadness in you.’
Heather reached out, placing a hand over her sister’s. ‘I am not the only person in the world scorned in love. I will recover and be myself again—please do not worry.’
Grace wished, rather than believed, this to be true—for both their sakes.
As the sisters entered the breakfast room together, Grace was relieved to find no sign of the Duke.
Lady Elizabeth was standing near the side table and greeted them warmly. ‘Ahh, my sweet, you were described as the diamond of the first water by Sir Walter! He said it within earshot of the Almack’s matrons, and they immediately wanted you to attend on the first Wednesday.’
Heather blushed prettily. Such praise was a great honour, and to be personally invited to Almack’s was no small feat.
Grace beamed at her sister. ‘I am so proud, Heather. But do not let it inflate your head too much—you may lose your balance when you curtsy.’
The company present chuckled as Heather retaliated with a sisterly shove.
‘We must celebrate! Let us go for a walk in Hyde Park!’ suggested Lady Jane, throwing a sly glance at Lord Gerrard. He smiled knowingly from the other end of the table.
Lady Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes. She was about to scold the couple when Grace and Heather quickly intervened, enthusiastically congratulating the newly betrothed and encouraging the breakfasting party to plan their outing.
As excitement filled the air, Grace was forming her own plans. She intended to find an excuse to break away from the walking party.
She would feign a twisted ankle and remain in the carriage—hopefully with Mrs Merriweather—and use the opportunity to visit the watchmaker Lord Harry had suggested.
When the carriage arrived at the park, Grace executed her plan. She leapt down and made a deliberate misstep, landing awkwardly.
‘Oh!’ she gasped, clutching her ankle.
Her plan would have worked had it not been for male chivalry. Unfortunately, Lord Harry immediately insisted on staying behind with the injured. But instead of waiting in thecarriage, he ordered it to take them home—along with Mrs Merriweather.
Grace’s heart sank. Her carefully laid-out plans were ruined.
