Where was her blasted fake fiancé? Grace curved her lips into another bright smile for the guests of the Redburn ball as they glided past. Tobias was late as usual. Punctuality was not a quality that most expected from a dunderhead, so her betrothed exploited the trait to its full advantage. It also meant Grace was the one who bore the brunt of maintaining their pretense.
The tension in her shoulders triggered her headaches, which were getting worse by the day. Pain radiated up her neck, piercing her brain, exacerbated by every blasted nod she gave to all the bloody well-wishers who dared to approach her.
Seated next to Aunt Emily, who appeared content to sit along the wall, Grace snapped her fan open and hid her face behind the decorative object in her hand. For a solid minute, Grace allowed herself to relax her aching facial muscles. A short reprieve from smiling, but it also allowed her disappointment to set in. She had thought Matthew would have no qualms in choosing marriage to her over vengeance. Nine days later, she was no longer confident about the matter and questioned the man’s love and touted devotion to her. He hadn’t abandoned her like before—she was fully aware that he lurked in the dark everywhere she went. No, he still cared, but he had failed to relinquish the bloody crown jewels.
She peered over the rim of her fan and let out a small gasp. Devonton. The man was dressed in his elegant but conservative evening attire and stood in plain sight. He might be her subordinate, but Blake’s loyalty belonged to Matthew. The delicate wood frame snapped in half in her hand. Matthew’s best friend, a full head taller than the rest of the guests, easily spotted her. As he made his way over to her, Grace fumbled with her fan and managed to stuff the blasted thing in her petite silk reticle. She synched the drawstring tight as a pair of large black polished dress shoes appeared.
“Wouldn’t want to be the poor fellow whom your mind is conjuring right at this moment.” Blake presented his hand to her. “Care to join me on the dance floor?”
With her head tilted, Grace leaned back in order to see the man’s face. “Your manners are atrocious, but considering your wife is not here, I’ll excuse your failure to adhere to social etiquette.” Grace placed her gloved hand in his and rose. “Where is Matthew?”
Blake’s entire body tensed. His lips were drawn into a tight straight line, and the man lowered his gaze to the floor. It was clear he was not in full support of whatever Matthew was up to tonight.
Grace said, “Take me to him.”
“No.” Blake turned to lead her about the perimeter of the room, edging closer to the dance floor.
“Devonton, it wasn’t a request. It was an order.” Grace hated to have to exert her authority as the man’s superior. Blake was a loyal, honest man who had served his country throughout the entire battle with Napoleon. He deserved to live out the rest of his life in peace and happiness. Grace nearly tripped as Blake quickly altered their course. Instead of leaving through the main foyer, Blake dragged her through to the gardens and then opened a door concealed behind sprawling ivy.
She glanced about, trying to gain her bearings. Blake released a piercing whistle. Moments later, a hackney rambled toward them and rolled to a stop. Grace hopped into the vehicle as soon as Blake had the door open. She couldn’t be seen out here with him.
Grace faced him and asked, “Where are we going?”
The back of the hackney dipped, and Blake moved in front of her as the door swung open. Matthew lunged forward and barreled into his best friend. Righting himself, Matthew glared at Blake and asked, “Where the hell are the two of you going?”
Blake tilted his head in Grace’s direction.
Matthew’s blue-gray eyes were filled with anger. “Why did you leave the ball?”
“I gave the command.” Volleying between wanting to launch herself at the man she loved and desired and strangling him for not seeking her out sooner, Grace stared at Matthew until he shifted uncomfortably. She glanced at both men and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are we headed?”
Matthew scowled at her. “I’m going to instruct the driver to return to the ball as soon as you answer my question.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Damnation, Grace.” Matthew mirrored her movements. He crossed his arms and continued, “You are supposed to be dancing and awaiting your betrothed at the ball, not traipsing about town in a hackney with Devonton.” He slid a glance at Blake, who sank farther into the corner of the rattling hackney.
Leaning forward, Grace softly said, “Who awaits you and where?”
Matthew brought his face within inches of hers and stared. Blast the man. Her eyes locked on his lips as she silently prayed for their conveyance to jostle about and cause their mouths to accidentally meet.
Blinking, Grace refocused on the matter at hand. “I’ll not return to the ball until you share with me what has put Devonton on edge this eve.”
“You’re not coming with me. Thus it’s of no matter who, what, or where I’m off to.” Matthew reached for the door latch, presumably to order the driver to return to Redburn’s. Her heart crumbled as she leaned back against the hardwood bench. What a fool she had been to believe he truly loved her and still intended to marry her. His decision was clear. He valued revenge over love. The Matthew she loved would have recognized the flaw in allowing hatred to rule one’s choices. She could feel his gaze on her, but she clasped her hands in her lap and looked steadfastly at the tips of Devonton’s shoes. How awkward for the poor man to be stuck in the same vehicle.
Exhaling a long sigh, Matthew moved to the space next to her and placed a hand over hers. “I plan to meet with Burke. I’ve arranged for senior court members to remain hidden in the dark. I intend to lead Burke down a merry path until he confesses to his underhanded dealings.”
Matthew had lost his marbles. Burke was a silver-tongued devil, and there was no way he’d confess to his nefarious dealings. The hackney was slowing; they must have arrived at their destination.
Grace faced Devonton. “I’ll wait here. You accompany him and see to his safety.”
“No. You both must return to the ball.” He squeezed her hand. “I shall see you tomorrow, and we finalize wedding arrangements.”
Wide-eyed, she quickly turned to Matthew. He must have been beaten one too many times to believe she’d still marry him after the choices he had made. You’d marry him regardless. Grace shook her head to clear her conscience. “Very well, we will both accompany you.” She grabbed her skirts and stood ready to exit. With one last narrowed stare at Matthew, she twisted the latch to release the door and hopped down to the pebbled path.
Where were they? Squinting, Grace could see the field before her was wide and deep. Trees lined the path the hackney was stationed on. Inhaling, beyond the strong scent of grass, Grace detected the faint aroma of mint. They were in Hyde Park. The wheels of the hackney crunched over the gravel path as it disappeared into the darkness.
Matthew gripped her by the elbow and led her into the dark. “You are the most obstinate, dangerous”—he stopped and tenderly cupped her face—“and courageous woman I know. Will you do me the honor of becoming the next Countess of Harrington?”
Of all the times and places, Matthew had to go and catch her totally off guard. His wicked smile proved he knew exactly what he was about. Unable to resist the man, Grace answered, “You better not be late…”
Matthew leaned in and kissed her, stealing her breath away and banishing all rational thoughts from her mind, the thump of her heartbeat loud in her ears. Seeking out Matthew’s warmth, Grace wrapped her arms about his waist.
“Praise the saints, it’s about bloody time,” Blake grumbled from behind her. Clearing his throat, he added, “We must disappear from sight and let Matthew attempt to achieve the impossible.”
Matthew leaned back and said, “Thanks for the support, dear friend.”
Releasing her hold, Grace stepped back. “Very well. Let’s be off, Devonton. Which is the quickest to route back to Redburn’s?” Blake was the finest cartographer in all of England. Surely he could figure the best way out of the park.
Her subordinate’s gaze flickered to Matthew. After a silent exchange between the two, Blake said, “It’s too far to walk all the way back, but I know where we can find a ready vehicle to take us home. Follow me.”
They turned to walk toward the path, leaving Matthew behind. Hidden in the shadows, Blake muttered, “I have a bad feeling about his meetings. I fear they will not go to plan.”
“I agree.” Scanning the area, she tugged on Blake’s sleeve. “Let’s stay and observe.” She moved farther into the brush that was barely tall enough to conceal Blake’s towering form. “Merely as a precaution.”