Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Later That Night, The Chadworths’ Ball

T he moment Grovemont looked her way, Gemma jerked her head in the opposite direction. Oh, drat. She’d been caught staring. And she was staring. Staring at her husband across the expanse of the ballroom.

In addition to asking if she would allow him to escort her to the ball tonight, he’d hovered by her side all evening, danced with her three times, which was unseemly, and was even now engaged in the pursuit of fetching her a glass of champagne because she’d mentioned she was thirsty.

In short, he was being entirely un-Grovemont-like. Precisely the same way he’d been in the music room this morning. What in the devil’s name was he up to? And how would she find out?

He’d asked for a sennight. A request that seemed reasonable on the surface, but he would no doubt use that time to plot a way to thwart her plans. Only she couldn’t discern how. She would have to search his study. That’s all there was to it. There had to be something there that would give her a clue as to his plans.

Meanwhile, however, he was being entirely disconcerting with his solicitousness. He slid back next to her side, handing her a glass of champagne. “Would you care for anything else, my lady?” he asked. “A finger sandwich, perhaps?”

Was he truly offering her a finger sandwich? And she had no reason to think he wouldn’t trot off and get one for her if she said the word. It was not just off-putting. It was…bizarre.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” No one had ever accused her of not being forthright.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” he replied with an angelic smile.

“Wouldn’t you rather be…doing whatever it is you normally do at balls?” She waved her hand in the air in a circle.

He poked at the curve of his lip with his tongue. “Normally, I hide in the study, drinking and playing cards.”

“Well then?”

“I prefer your company.”

“You don’t have to pretend when no one is around to hear us,” she informed him with a tight smile.

“What if I’m not pretending?”

Gemma didn’t have long to contemplate that astounding statement before she was jostled from behind. She turned to see Lord Pembroke.

“Ah, Your Grace, lovely to see you,” Pembroke said, eyeing Lucian warily.

“Good evening, my lord,” Gemma replied.

Grovemont had opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to say anything Lady Mary, of all people, swept into their circle.

“There you are, Pembroke,” Mary said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You must come meet my friend, Sally. Good evening, Your Grace,” she said to Lucian without so much as acknowledging Gemma’s existence.

Pembroke looked as if the last thing he wanted was to meet Sally, but he politely excused himself to Lucian and Gemma and turned toward Lady Mary.

“That’s right. Go away , Pembroke,” Lucian growled at the shorter man.

Pembroke glanced back at Grovemont disapprovingly.

After the two strode off, Gemma shook her head at Grovemont. “Why do you dislike him so?”

Grovemont lifted both brows. “What’s to like?”

Gemma watched as Mary led Pembroke over to the wall where they began speaking in earnest. No friend named Sally, eh? Gemma shook her head. Leave it to Mary to lie about why she wanted to speak to him. She was up to something as well, but thankfully it was no longer Gemma’s concern. Now that Mary was betrothed, she’d stopped threatening the wallflowers. Which meant Gemma could relinquish her role as their unofficial protector.

“Lady Mary was staring daggers at you,” Lucian pointed out.

“Oh, I was never her favorite, and when you and I married, I suppose I made a lifelong enemy.”

“I would never have married her .” Grovemont took a sip from his champagne glass. “Even if she’d been the one I’d been found alone with in the study.”

And with that startling bit of information, he offered his wife his arm for yet another dance.