Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

I t had been one thing to attend a small house party at Everdene Hall with people Grace had known as a child—quite another thing entirely to be swept back into the social whirl of London again after three long years. On this crisp September night, tension thickened the air even more than usual. Since Lord Pinchbeck was among the guests at Lady Downe's soiree, Grace dreaded the possibility that Neville might be attending as well. Another meeting with her former betrothed was inevitable, but she loathed the prospect that anything might upset the balance she and Lucien had achieved.

She forced a smile when the French ambassador absconded with her husband to discuss the furor of unrest in Paris, but chose not to await the next salvo of impertinent questions alone. Slipping into an alcove, she lingered there until Arkwright appeared with a grin.

The man had an uncanny knack for noticing when Lucien was called away and stepping in to fill the void. "Are you all right," he asked with an arched brow. "Or is there someone I need to trounce?"

"I am fine."

"But glad I am here?" Arkwright said with an infectious grin.

"Very." She'd been unable to suppress the butterflies in her stomach from the moment of their arrival. "I fear I'll scream if I'm forced to fend off one more question from yet another prying, smiling hostess."

"Who no doubt scarce conceals bared teeth?"

"Indeed." She leaned toward him, conspiratorially. "You have been absent from society for so long…You must tell us how you brought Lord Everdene up to scratch."

Even the dailies featured caricatures lampooning the marriage, while anyone who had been attempting to enchant his lordship themselves, or secure him for their marriageable daughters, was eager to find fault with his chosen bride.

She looked at Arkwright. "I promised Lucien when we agreed to wed that I would be an asset to him politically. But I feel like the dark horse that triumphed at Newmarket. Everyone suspects I must have cheated to win."

"Let them gawk and gossip," Arkwright said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You are an asset to Everdene in every way." He grinned, his gaze fixing on Lucien who was now surrounded by a cluster of colleagues near the punchbowl. "I daresay, the real joke is on him. I confess, it is amusing to see him so confused. Only once before in all the years I've known Everdene have I seen him this bewildered. He has always been so sure of himself while the rest of us mere mortals were bumbling about. But with you, there are times the old fellow looks as if he's teetering on the edge of a precipice."

She felt the sting. "I hardly take that as a compliment."

"Oh, it most definitely is. With you, he has finally met his match." He gave a soft laugh, his gaze still on Lucien. "In fact, I think he could fall in love with you, if he'll allow himself."

Grace's heart skipped a beat. "Do you truly think so? Sometimes I think he might have tender feelings toward me, but then, it is as if he slams a door shut inside him, and barricades it more securely than ever."

"Excellent. You are making progress, then."

"That hardly seems like progress."

"It is. I have some experience, truth be told." Arkwright turned a solemn gaze her direction. "Everdene behaved quite the same way with me as we became friends."

She pressed a gloved hand to the bodice of her glacé silk gown, almost daring to hope. Was it possible Lucien cared for her as well? "How did you finally break through?" she asked.

"It was a rather messy business, I am afraid." A spark of humor lit Arkwright's eyes as he thumbed his lapels. "I am a very likeable fellow, if I say so myself, but Lucien would barely talk to me. At Eton our beds were next to each other, in the far corner of the dormitory. Late at night when the other boys were asleep, I saw him with this blue tin box. He'd take something out of it and run it through his fingers. I couldn't see what he held, but I thought it must be something wicked or at least interesting. One night, while he was sleeping, I dug the box from under his bed. He woke while I was holding it. I'll never forget his expression. He grabbed for the box and planted me a facer."

Arkwright rubbed his eye with a rueful grin. "The tin fell and made a deafening noise and boys around us woke. It was quite the melee, but when the prefect came, I edged the box under Lucien's bed with my foot. Neither of us would tell what we had argued over, even when they thrashed us."

Honor among boys…How many times had Grace see it in her brothers?

"Later, after everyone else was back asleep, I saw him by moonlight, holding the box. It is the only time I have ever seen Lucien cry."

Grace's heart ached as she pictured the boy Lucien had been. "What was in it?"

Arkwright shrugged. "Dashed if I know. It was too dark to see. And afterwards, well—I never found out what it was. I made reparations as best I was able. I had discovered a nook behind a loose board between our beds where I would hide the bits and bobs boys collect. I removed my things and gave the space to him, promising I would never pry again. To solemnize the vow, I nicked my palm with my penknife and swore a blood oath that if I ever told I soul I would drop down dead." His mouth crooked in a rueful smile. "So, if I choke on a fish bone this evening, you will know what happened."

She gave a watery laugh, so deeply moved by Arkwright's words that she squeezed his arm. "I am so glad that Lucien has you for a friend."

"He is the truest I've ever known. Don't give up on him, Grace. He cares about you more than he knows."

She had noticed a change in the weeks since she'd begun reading to him. He rarely missed their time together. He would sit across from her in his big chair as she read, his long legs stretched out before him, a glass of brandy in his hand. As he listened, she'd detected sparks of interest, a crease between his brows, the hint of a smile or frown.

Grace smiled up at Arkwright, tingling with hope that this ‘business arrangement' of a marriage might turn into something more.

Arkwright offered her his arm. "Perhaps we should go rescue Everdene from that cadre of our ‘honored opposition.'"

But Grace and her escort had scarce stepped from their alcove when Lord Pinchbeck blocked their way, the golden-haired girl at his side staring up at Grace with cornflower blue eyes.

"Mr. Arkwright, Lady Everdene!" Pinchbeck enthused far too heartily. "Pardon our exuberance! My daughter very much wishes to be presented to the belle of the evening." He gestured to the girl in the rose-hued gown beside him. "Lady Everdene, my daughter, Lady Alice Pinchbeck."

Pinchbeck's daughter was very young and very pretty, her cheeks flushed pink as she fidgeted with the fringe trimming her sleeve. "I am—I am so glad to meet you," she said in a breathless voice then turned to her father. "Papa, do go find Mama or she'll never forgive either one of us. I know she wished for an introduction to Lady Everdene as well."

"How should I know where your mother got off to," Pinchbeck complained.

"You might find her in Lady Downe's conservatory," his daughter suggested. "She wished to see some rare plant her ladyship's son sent from Brazil."

Grace heard the creak of corsets as Pinchbeck made his bow, then headed off. The moment he was out of earshot, Alice coughed, and batted her gold-tipped lashes at Arkwright. "May I trouble you for a glass of ratafia? I fear I have a—a catch in my throat."

Arkwright regarded her with suspicion, but there was nothing for it. He bowed like a gentleman and set out in search of punch.

The moment Grace and Lady Alice were alone, the girl turned to her, breathless. "I pray you forgive me for sending Mr. Arkwright away, but I so desired a moment alone with you. I could not say what I wish otherwise."

Grace regarded her warily as the girl looked in the direction her father had disappeared.

"You will hear that I was among those distressed over your elopement. But it isn't true," she said fiercely. "Mother and Father wished the match to gain a political ally. Mother even plotted to catch Lord Everdene and me in a compromising position at the ambassador's ball, but luckily the viscount foiled her plan."

It was shocking to hear such confessions from someone Grace had barely met. She struggled to think of something to say.

"I always knew my parents would choose a husband for me and it was my duty to obey, but I confess, I am quite afraid of Lord Everdene." Lady Alice fretted her lower lip. "There are times his lordship looks as if he could turn one to stone with a glance."

"He can be intimidating."

"I mean no offense," Lady Alice said, turning wide blue eyes back to Grace.

When she saw Alice's soft chin quiver for a moment she felt anger on the girl's behalf as well. Lady Alice's parents would have wed her to a man she feared. In society's view, a daughter was nothing more than a chip to gamble with. "No offense taken."

Grace glanced across the room at her handsome husband. No wonder he alarmed the girl. He had the aura of a jungle cat, all coiled power, ready to pounce at the slightest threat. "His lordship does have a formidable scowl. Before I came to know him better, I wondered if he practiced it in the mirror."

The embarrassment on Alice's face fled and she giggled, ducking her head to hide her merriment.

Grace laid one finger along her jaw as if considering. "I wonder what would happen if I tickled him with a feather. Do you think I might coax a laugh out of him?" She meant it to put Lady Alice further at ease, but suddenly an image seared itself in her mind. Hiding a plume beneath her pillow, then daring Lucien to lie still while she trailed the downy tip down the tender side of his ribs, across his flat belly and lower. Her own cheeks burned.

Lady Alice clasped her hands in delight. "Oh, Lady Everdene! I do like you immensely. I so hope we can be friends." Then the girl froze, rather like a pup whose leash had been yanked. "Mother!" Alice warned under her breath.

A woman in silvery satin sailed toward them on Pinchbeck's arm, the plumes in her coiffure waving like battle flags. "Why, Alice, you naughty gel! Meeting Lady Everdene while I was otherwise engaged." Lady Pinchbeck rapped her daughter sharply with a folded fan. "You knew how anxious I was to welcome her ladyship back into society after such a precipitous departure years ago."

The woman made it sound as if Grace was in her dotage. "It has only been three years."

"But the circumstances! The scandal of a broken engagement can hardly help but cause one humiliation when all of society?—"

"Mother!" Lady Alice exclaimed in horror.

"I am merely stating a well-known fact. And it seems both parties involved have moved on, have they not?" Lady Pinchbeck said with an indulgent glance at her daughter that puzzled Grace. Pen-stroke thin eyebrows arched toward a roll of graying curls as the redoubtable matron regarded Grace. "Quite a triumph to attend tonight's revels as Viscountess Everdene. It is a title many aspired to."

"But," Pinchbeck cut in, patting his wife's beringed hand, "this shy country blossom has eclipsed them all."

"Shy? Country?" Arkwright's merry laugh was never more welcome as he approached with the punch Lady Alice had requested. "If you can find a lady anywhere in England to match Lady Everdene for wit and charm, I will leap off of London Bridge."

"We must all rejoice that Lord Everdene has wed," Pinchbeck said. "Nothing like an angel at his hearth to make a man realize how vital it is to keep fires of rebellion from spreading. Why, these vermin intend to turn God's natural order upside down. I am sure Lady Everdene will remind her husband where his loyalties must lie. His lordship has a distressing propensity for changing his mind."

The anger Grace had felt on Alice's behalf burned even hotter as she came to Lucien's defense. "I admire Lord Everdene for his ability to alter his stance on issues. Especially in light of new information he discovers about those fighting for change. That takes courage as well as intelligence."

"Well said!" Arkwright exclaimed.

Pinchbeck began to bluster, but Grace went on as if she hadn't noticed. "Loyalty to a false statement does not change the truth," she said. "When Galileo discovered that the earth orbited the sun, the inquisition threatened him with torture and execution unless he recanted. Still, the earth continued to orbit the sun."

Pinchbeck blustered. "A man without loyalty is nothing."

Grace looked across the room at Lucien, and wondered who, save Arkwright, had been loyal to him.

"In the past, Everdene's vote could always be counted to do whatever was necessary to maintain order in the kingdom. Why, the rabble feared him as much as his father. It will be so again. We must put an end to this upheaval the Chartists and Irish scum are stirring up or there will be revolution here as there is in France."

"As I understand it," Grace observed, "the Chartists wish to have some say in parliament, a vote regarding labor conditions, and the Irish food for their children. It hardly seems unreasonable to consider?—"

"They should be grateful to be employed." Pinchbeck made a scoffing sound. "As for the Irish, what would you have us do? Fling open the doors of the granaries?I say, let them work harder if they want their bread. Labor dictating working conditions? Of all the nonsensical ideas."

"I would very much like to see the conditions myself," Grace said, maneuvering the conversation as her mother might have done. "Perhaps you would give me a tour of your factory, Lord Pinchbeck?"

She disliked the nasty flicker in his eyes.

"I am sure my partner, Mr. Freyne, would be happy to meet with you and tell you anything you wish to know."

Alice caught her breath and Grace felt Arkwright stiffen. She laid a hand on his arm.

No doubt, Pinchbeck meant to silence her by mentioning Neville's name, but Grace was not so easily cowed. "I prefer to see conditions for myself," she said. "You attempted to enlist my husband as an investor in your business ventures, and I imagine that process must be a trifle like courtship. You are unlikely to point out flaws."

"My dear Lady Everdene," he replied. "You do make one wonder at the comparison to courtship considering the fact that you are so lately wed. What flaws you may have hidden?—"

"Flaws?" Lucien, his eyes glinting steel, appeared out of nowhere. "My wife has no flaws save extending politeness to some who do not deserve it."

Poor Alice took a step back. Her father guffawed. "Ah, Everdene, here is the happy groom at last! A bit of teasing is allowed in addressing a new bride, is it not? I was merely suggesting that a married man has a different perspective from a bachelor's. When one has a wife, and the prospect of being blessed with children, civil unrest is doubly upsetting. Take your father for example. He knew how to protect his own. Send in the hussars and be done with it, like we did in Manchester in 'nineteen."

" Such courage!" Grace said, wondering if Pinchbeck was even clever enough to note her sarcasm. Peterloo, the papers had called it, the carnage named after the battle of Waterloo. Sixty thousand English men, women and children had gathered to hear speeches about bettering their working conditions and gaining the vote…"As I understand it, all was completely peaceful until hussars charged into the panicked crowd with their sabers swinging," Grace observed. "You must be so proud."

"We are charged with keeping the peace," Pinchbeck retorted. "Protecting the Crown and the interests of propertied men. The common herd will not be satisfied until they're suckling at the Queen's own teat."

Lady Alice gasped, and her mother nearly choked herself, clutching the opals at her throat.

"I think," Arkwright said, his jovial aura holding an edge, "that Prince Albert might object at such liberties."

Pinchbeck rounded on him. "You know what I mean! This is what comes of nonsense like that village Everdene's brother built. Coddling the rabble just makes them more discontented with their lot in life. Surely you don't expectall landlords to empty their coffers like Harcourt did?"

Lady Downe approached the group with the instinctive skill of a hostess sensing trouble, but even her presence didn't dissuade him from continuing to spout his point of view. "I'd wager, should you ask Everdene how his investment is doing now, he'd tell a different story."

"Come, come Lord Pinchbeck," Lady Downe said. "You must not plague our newlyweds with disagreeable subjects on their honeymoon. This is a time of celebration."

"Indeed it is," Lucien said, curving an arm about Grace's waist, his expression unreadable as he addressed their hostess. "Your ladyship, perhaps you can persuade someone to play the piano forte. I feel the irrepressible need to dance with my bride."

Lady Downe beamed. "Of course! You must lead the first waltz!" She bustled off in search of a musical guest.

Grace still simmered with outrage as Lucien guided her to the center of the floor. He swept her into his arms as the first notes rang out, cutting the tension that swirled in the air. He danced divinely, with athletic grace, his hand splayed on her back.

At the next turn, he pulled her just a little too close. "I think you made quite an impression tonight, Lady Everdene. Your mother's tutelage was on fine display."

"Sadly, she neglected to advise me in one particular area."

"And what was that?"

"What to do when I want to fling ratafia in some pompous wretch's face."

Lucien's brows rose. A grin spread across his handsome face, then he laughed. The rich, rare sound rang out across the room, guests craning their necks to stare, voices trailing off mid-conversation.

Grace couldn't help herself. She laughed with him until tears stung her eyes.

"You are quite beautiful, you know," he said, an unexpected tenderness softening his severe features. "And most convincing in your arguments. Perhaps it is easier to swallow a bitter truth if it is spoken by a beautiful woman."

"I meant what I said about going to see the conditions in Pinchbeck's factory. After all, he asked you to invest."

"I have already dismissed the idea of doing so."

"In spite of that…would it not be best to actually see what people are unhappy about for ourselves? My mother always said we should observe circumstances with our own eyes if we wish to understand them. I could go?—"

"No," he snapped so harshly she stiffened. He tightened his arm about her waist, guiding her flawlessly in the dance. "Forgive me for being strident," he said, "but considering the current climate on the streets, it would be unwise for you to visit such a place."

"Surely I can spend an hour there."

"With the threats I have received? And what happened at our wedding? No." Her resistance must have shone on her face, for his voice gentled. "I am much occupied with state business at present, but I will try to make time in the future."

Would he? Or would more pressing matters distract?

One thing she knew for certain was this.

She would not wait to go to the factory forever.