Eight
Grace regarded her reflection with a hint of surprise. The gown was lovely. Pale lemon with a pattern of tiny pearls along the hem, it floated about her slender form with a lustrous sheen. About her neck she placed the pearl necklace she had received from her grandmother.
Certainly the gown was not sophisticated or particularly daring, but after a year of nothing but black and plain gray, it appeared startlingly brilliant.
And why not? she told herself, trying to still the pesky sense of unease in the bottom of her stomach. It was the eve of Christmas, and the day promised to be filled with festivities. Her choice had nothing at all to do with a raven-haired blue-eyed gentleman.
The reassurance fell flat as an image of Alexander rose to her mind. He really was a most uncommon gentleman, she grudgingly conceded. He never made her feel awkward or plain, as other gentlemen had done. Indeed, when they were together she felt as if she must be the most fascinating woman in all of England.
A talent that no doubt made any number of females swoon, she warned herself sternly. She might have allowed herself to forget all those reasons why she had meant to be furious with him, but she would be a fool to allow herself to dream that his flirtations were any more than an act.
Of course, there was no reason she could not enjoy the next few days, she silently argued. It had been years since she had been surrounded by guests with enticing gossip of London and stories of their travels abroad. Once Alexander was gone, her life would return to it’s dull routine, with little relief beyond her visit to Leicestershire.
In the midst of arranging a fiery curl that lay against her cheek, Grace was startled when the door to the chamber was pushed open. With a lift of her brow she turned to watch her mother cross toward her.
“My dear, how lovely you look,” Arlene complimented.
Grace glanced down at her dress. “You do not believe that it is too soon to wear such a gown?”
“Certainly not. We have been in mourning long enough. And it is nice to see you in bright colors.” A rather sly expression settled on the older woman’s countenance. “Although I do not believe it is the bright color that has brought that glow to your eyes.”
A blush that would have made a schoolgirl proud rose to her cheeks.
Drat.
What was the matter with her?
“It is the eve of Christmas,” she said with a shrug.
Her attempt to distract her mother was sadly wasted. “And it has nothing to do with Mr. Dalford?”
Unbelievably, her blush deepened. “Why should it have anything to do with Alexander?”
Arlene’s smile was smug. “You two have spent a great deal of time together.”
“We have had little option after he forced us to pretend that we are engaged.”
“But it has not been so ghastly, has it? We were allowed to return to Chalfried.”
Really, what was her mother thinking?
“As guests only,” Grace felt compelled to point out. “After the New Year Alexander is bound to return to London and we will once again be back at the cottage.”
Arlene merely smiled in a complacent fashion. “I do not believe so. Mr. Dalford is a very kind gentleman. Far more kind than I dared hope.”
A gathering frown marred Grace’s wide brow. “Yes.”
“You could do far worse than have him for a fiancé.”
So this is where her mother was leading, Grace acknowledged with a pang of unease. Perhaps it was only to be expected. Grace had never attracted many suitors, and those who had shown an interest had either been doddering fools or local tradesmen who hoped to acquire a hint of aristocracy to their family. Certainly there had never been a gentleman such as Alexander. What mother would not eagerly begin weaving hopes in her mind?
It was important that Grace squash such lofty notions with all possible speed. She had no desire for her mother’s heart to be broken when Alexander left and she was firmly placed upon the shelf.
“Oh, Mother, I hope that you have not allowed this foolishness to sway your common sense,” she said softly. “Alexander could have his choice of the most beautiful and wealthy maidens in all of England and no doubt Russia. He is not about to throw himself away on an ill-tempered spinster without a quid to her name.”
Predictably, her mother bristled with annoyance at the harsh truth. She had never wished to accept that Grace was anything but perfect.
“You happen to be a lovely, very talented young miss,” she protested with a sniff. “It is entirely my fault for not being able to send you to London for a Season that you are not already wed to a duke or at least an earl.”
Grace gave a sudden laugh at the notion of herself in London. It was one thing to childishly dream of entering a crowded ballroom and causing every gentleman to swoon in delight. It was quite another to realize that she was far more likely to enter the ballroom and tumble over her own feet.
“Fiddlesticks. I should have made a perfect cake of myself, and the dukes and earls would have fled in terror. Besides, if I ever do wed, it will be for love.”
Like a hound on the scent, Arlene refused to be distracted. “Perhaps Mr. Dalford will fall in love with you and all our troubles will be solved.”
Grace gave a resigned shake of her head. “Mother.”
“Very well.” Realizing she had pressed as far as she dared, Arlene gave a shrug. “I will say no more.”
“That I very much doubt,” Grace retorted dryly, moving forward to grasp her mother’s arm. “Come, it is time for the celebrations.”
As a favorite of both the czar and the prince regent, Alexander had enjoyed the most lavish entertainments that society could offer. There had been extravagant masked balls, treasure hunts that had led him from London to Paris to Vienna, moonlit dinners upon the Thames, and private evenings with the most beautiful courtesans in the world. But in all of his vast experiences he could not recall enjoying a day more than he had today.
With a sense of contentment he glanced about the vast salon. Throughout the day this room had been filled with countless children who had enthusiastically helped to decorate the standing tree with the fruit and various baubles they had tied onto strings. They had been equally delighted with the piles of tiny cakes and bags of coins he had helped to distribute. In the background Grace had provided festive music upon the pianoforte, her face astonishingly beautiful as she smiled with obvious satisfaction.
The joyish atmosphere lingered into dinner, where they had shared the Kuyta and toasted the future.
All in all it had proven to be a most successful day.
With a determined step Alexander moved to where Grace was tidying her music upon the pianoforte. His heart gave an odd quiver at the sight of her tiny countenance still flushed with the excitement of the day. Halting beside her, he waited for her to turn and face him.
“Did you enjoy your day?” he asked softly.
“Very much.” She offered him a warm smile. “It was very festive. The children will not soon forget your generosity.”
He gave a wave of his slender hand. “It was a trifle.”
“Hardly a trifle. Your tree alone will be the talk of the village for years to come.”
Alexander glanced toward the tree that was barely visible beneath the flurry of decorations. “Perhaps not a thing of beauty, but it was great fun.”
“You are very different from your cousin.”
He turned back to meet her searching gaze. “How so?”
She paused as if carefully considering her words. “Edward was very somber and very aware of his position in the neighborhood. He would never have opened his home in such a fashion. Certainly not to his tenants.”
Alexander recalled enough of his cousin to be certain Grace was not exaggerating. Although not a cruel gentleman, Edward had always been rather humorless and disliked what he considered frivolous pursuits. He would no doubt have staunchly disapproved of the loud and rather messy party.
“It would not have been a success without you.”
Her long lashes fluttered with embarrassment. “I enjoy children.”
Alexander’s heart gave a sudden jolt. This was a woman who should have a dozen children. She would be warm and loving, with a great sense of fun. Like his own mother, who had shunned nurses and insisted that he be at her side.
A delicious warmth crawled through his body at the image of Grace with a child in her arms.
“At least we have managed to convince one and all that we are happily engaged,” he retorted softly.
“Not all.” She pointedly glanced toward the brightly dressed dandy in the corner.
Alexander was not at all surprised to discover Mr. Wallace closely watching them. The twit was no doubt gnashing his teeth in frustration at the fear he would have no scandal to sell to his powerful friends. With his numerous debts, he had to be smelling the cells of Newgate in his dreams.
“Then we shall have to work harder,” he murmured, reaching out to pull her arm firmly through his own. “Come.”
Although she had little choice but to fall into step beside him, she glanced at him in protest. “Alexander.”
“What?”
“We cannot just leave.”
“Of course we can,” he assured her, pulling her through the open doors that led to the library. “We will be gone just a moment.”
“Where are we going?”
He smiled down at her upturned face. “I told you that there was another tradition on this eve.”
He halted beside a small table with a candle burning on a dish and beside it a bowl of water. Grace glanced up in surprise.
“What is this?”
Alexander pulled out a chair. “Sit here.” He waited until she had settled on the satinwood chair and then took his own seat next to her. Carefully, he grasped the candle and tipped it until the hot wax had dripped into the bowl of water. “Now we shall begin.”
“What are you doing?”
He watched the wax harden in the water. “I am going to tell your future.”
Grace gave a startled laugh. “Absurd.”
“Not at all. My grandmother would tell my future every year.”
“And what did she foresee?”
Alexander remembered back to those moments with his grandmother, when she would make a great show of preparing for her reading. It was all very mysterious for a young boy.
“Love, happiness . . .” His voice trailed away as he was struck by a poignant memory. “And oddly enough, a life filled with music.”
It was difficult to determine in the firelight, but Alexander suspected a soft blush had stolen to her cheeks.
“You are merely jesting.”
He gazed deep into her wide eyes. “Not at all.”
For a moment they stared at each other in silence; then Grace turned toward the water on the table.
“And what of my future?” she said, attempting to distract him.
Alexander obligingly glanced at the wax. “I see a gentleman. Tall, dark haired, and extraordinarily attractive.”
“Obviously a stranger,” she retorted in dry tones.
He ignored her thrust as he continued to stare at the wax. “That is odd.”
“What?”
“I see true love and some danger that seems to have to do with water.”
“Perhaps my true love is a sailor,” she suggested.
All thoughts of the strange vision of the water were abruptly forgotten as he lifted his head. “That would be unfortunate,” he said with soft emphasis.
“Why?”
“Because you are my fiancée.”
Unable to prevent himself, Alexander leaned forward and captured her soft mouth in a fierce, wholly possessive kiss. He would drive all thoughts of other men from her mind, he told himself, only to have his own thoughts scatter like leaves in an autumn wind as sweet pleasure spiraled to the pit of his stomach. A soft moan was captured in his throat as he lifted his hand to stroke the line of her jaw. The pleasure was almost unbearable, but even as he leaned forward to deepen the kiss, a sharp pang in his thigh had him pulling back with a gasp. Glancing down, he discovered a black kitten hanging on to his thigh with its front paws. With a resigned sigh he plucked the intruder from his ill-treated leg and allowed it to curl upon his arm.
“I believe Byron is attempting to warn me that we have been gone long enough.”
Clearly flustered Grace rose to her feet, her eyes as brilliant as gems. “Oh.”
Alexander also rose, deeply regretting their moment alone was over. “Grace . . .”
It took a moment before she could force herself to meet his gaze. “Yes?”
“Happy Christmas, my dear.”