A Wedding In Springtime(5)

The duke frowned, dark eyebrows clamping down over his eyes in a manner most intimidating. “Jonny is in the sick room?”

“He is, shall we say, indisposed.” Grant’s silver-blue eyes danced with a natural merriment. “Not sure where that leaves your dear grandmamma.”

The Duke of Marchford muttered something under his breath Genie pretended not to hear. “I apologize, but I must see to my grandmother. If she has been waiting all this time…” The duke made a strangled sound.

Grant shook his head. “Best run for the Continent. It’s your only hope. Perhaps you can join Miss Talbot on her expedition to the colonies.”

“Grant, please keep these ladies company while I see to the dowager,” said Marchford.

“Yes of course, fly, my friend!” Grant stood to usher his friend out the door, and the Duke of Marchford did exit the room with more haste than a strict adherence to decorum would allow.

“Such excitement, eh, ladies?” Mr. Grant sat himself next to Genie on the couch, which earned Genie a stern glance from Lady Bremerton. Genie could not but think this unfair, since she could hardly control where the man sat.

“We are perfectly comfortable waiting in the drawing room, Mr. Grant,” said Lady Bremerton. “You need not stay to keep us company.”

“I would not dream of leaving you alone, not when Marchford has specifically asked me to act as host. Besides, I have not yet had the chance to become acquainted with the lovely Miss Talbot.”

“Genie, ring the bell for tea, please,” said Lady Bremerton, interrupting Grant.

Genie dutifully stood to ring the bell. Catching her aunt’s glare, she sat back down on another chair, far from Grant.

“Well played, Lady Bremerton,” said Grant. “I see I have crossed swords with an expert. Miss Talbot, you are safe from me for the moment.”

Grant easily turned the conversation to safer topics, but the quiver of excitement in the air every time he glanced at her told Genie that, with Mr. Grant, she was far from safe.

***

“So, Lady Louisa, is this your remarkable embroidery in hand? Do tell me about your latest project.” Grant had little natural interest in needlework but listened attentively to Louisa’s description of her ambitious project embroidering the Greek goddess Aphrodite running away with her lover Ares. Grant needed to play the charming host to win time with his latest prize. Miss Talbot was a delightful bundle, fresh as daisies in a simple white muslin dress.

Lady Bremerton was a devoted chaperone, with a reserved nature, but Grant was able to soften her demeanor by sharing his secret for where to find silks at only seven shillings and sixpence a yard. Lady Bremerton may not care for his flirtatious manner with Genie, but she was not above taking his advice on fashion.

After a lengthy conversation of the latest trends and the comfort of tea and cakes, Lady Bremerton took up a book, Lady Louisa moved farther away to sit in the light for her stitching, and Grant seized on the moment of complacency by offering in as offhand a manner as possible to show Genie some artwork, naturally leading Genie to a far end of the large drawing room to admire a Renaissance treasure.

Titian may have been a master at his craft, but Grant’s admiration was solely given to Miss Talbot. In the sunlight, her golden curls shimmered. Her face was lovely; she was truly a great beauty. Gowned in white muslin, her form was perfect, slender, and curvy in all the right places. She flashed azure eyes at him with a warm smile. He smiled in return, unable and unwilling to stop himself.

“Beautiful,” said Grant.

Genie nodded. “The art collection is amazing.”

“The pictures are quite fine too,” said Grant with a smile guaranteed to raise the blood pressure of any eligible (or ineligible) female.

But Eugenia Talbot returned his gaze without so much as a blush. “Mr. Grant, I can see you are quite incorrigible and take pains to live up to your reputation.”

“My reputation? My dear girl, you have been in London only a handful of weeks at best. How can you possibly know my reputation?”

“I know what my aunt has told me,” said Genie in a soft tone, so her relatives could not hear.

Grant motioned for Genie to sit on a settee at the far end of the drawing room. Genie glanced around, but Louisa and her aunt were still within sight, though paying them no mind.

“Now tell me, of what has your aunt to accuse me?” asked Grant in a similarly hushed tone.

“Only that you are a notorious rake and that I can in no way amend my tattered reputation by boasting an acquaintance with you.”