Mischief and Mistletoe - Stacy Reid Page 0,5
grimaced. “So you have said…at least twice before.”
His father flinched, and regret burned in Graham’s gut. Surging to his feet, he stepped toward him. “Father, that was tactless—”
His father held up a hand, cutting off his words. “No. This time…” the earl took a deep breath. “This time…it is like how it was with your mother. Maybe even deeper.”
Guilt and something unfathomable darkened his father’s blue eyes. Graham relaxed his fingers, which had tightened around his glass. Never had his father compared the women he’d courted to the great love he’d had for Graham’s mother. He was unsure how to feel about it. “I see.”
His father cleared his throat. “I would like you and Emma to spend time with Amelia…Lady Danby.”
Spend time with the viscountess? His father had never requested such a thing before. It flummoxed Graham for several moments. “Is our approval necessary, father?”
A sight frown creased the earl’s face. “No, but I would still like to hear my children’s valued opinions. If…if it works out, she will also be a part of your life and Emma’s.”
Graham nodded, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “And the note?”
His father hesitated before plucking it from his pocket and handing it to Graham. He scanned the letter asking for a clandestine meeting. An elegant flowing script scrawled the words, but it was not signed. Whoever it was, wanted his father to meet them in the conservatory in less than an hour. That hint of deception had anger curling through his gut. Why did it not similarly annoy his father?
Who are you?
“We are at a house party. I hardly think such subterfuge necessary,” he scoffed, rather irritated with the author. “Surely you must suspect their reason for wanting such a meeting.”
The earl seemed contemplative. “Someone…a skilled waif, slipped this note in my pocket! How alarmed and intrigued I was to find it. Except I…I am uncertain the author of this note is who I am dearly hoping it is!”
“The viscountess,” Graham said. “You are hoping it is from Lady Danby.”
“Yes,” his father snapped on an aggrieved sigh. “I do…I hope it is from her! For it would tell me clearly she has some feelings for me that are beyond friendship and neighborly courtesy.”
“Is she the sort to send such letters?” Though the wording was innocent enough, it could be a trap by anyone of the marriage-minded ladies in attendance. Twice now, his father had almost gotten caught by a woman of dubious standards and with only greed in their hearts.
His father tugged at his cravat looking distinctly befuddled. “She is shy but comes alive within minutes of conversation. Then I see no shyness, only her good-natured charm, and vivacity for living…and blushes,” he relayed this with a bit of wonder and a smile on his lips. “Lady Danby blushes so prettily if I stare at her too long, or if I pay her the sincerest of compliments which she deserves. I am uncertain she would be this bold.”
Yet hope lingered in his voice that the lady had indeed decided to be daring.
“Why not ask the viscountess how she feels?” Graham suggested. “She is not a debutante who needs to be protected from such advances. She is a woman of sense and mature years; such a question will hardly send her running.”
A tic jerked in his father’s cheek. “I tried,” he said with a gruff voice. “She loved her husband very much. Only…she has only lost him these past five years. Whenever we speak, the viscountess always find a reason to slip him into our discourse. I admire how much she loved him, but it almost makes me believe she might not be willing or open to the idea of me courting her.”
Graham recalled the rumors which had surrounded the viscountess’s move to Gloucestershire. She was without funds, her widowed portion only enough to maintain the appearance of bare gentility. Her older daughter had her come out some years ago, which had not netted her any new connections or a match, and the younger girl had never had a Season in London. Now there was little opportunity for the viscountess to secure respectable matches for them.
The lady must be desperate for marriage into a well-connected family. Either the viscountess or her daughters would do for an earl. He glanced down at the invitation to a tryst in the conservatory once more. How far would the widowed viscountess be willing to go?
“If you wish to see for yourself, Father, go, but be mindful