A Wedding In Springtime(62)

“And here I am,” stated Mr. Grant, entering the room with an air of style and grace only he could muster. “I do not know of what you are speaking, but it is a conversation in which I must have a share. Or perhaps,” he said with a wicked wink to the dowager duchess, “you would prefer my absence so you can talk about me at your leisure.”

“Mr. Grant, you are incorrigible as usual,” said the dowager, and Genie could almost swear she winked in return.

Genie’s heartbeat quickened at the unexpected arrival of Mr. Grant. He was dressed impeccably in a sage green coat of glistening superfine, a mustard waistcoat with exquisite detailing, and matching breeches so skin tight it was positively indecent. Genie could not help but drink him in with her eyes. He was a dreadful rogue to be sure, but when he entered a room, she could not look away.

“I would not dare to contradict you, Your Grace.” Mr. Grant gave a bow that put every other man on the planet to shame. At least, that is how Genie saw it.

“I have come to return to you Mr. Blakely, who found me lounging in the study,” continued Grant, and only now did Genie notice that Mr. Blakely stood behind him. The rest of the men chose that moment to enter the room and the dowager gave instructions for tables to be set for cards.

“We were speaking of Almack’s, Mr. Grant,” said Pen. “Have you been this season?”

“Ah, Almack’s. I have not graced their halls this season.”

“I should say not,” said Marchford.

“You do not care for Almack’s?” asked Penelope.

“Almack’s is fine, but the matchmaking interference I could do without,” said the duke. “The last time we entered those hallowed halls, Mr. Grant was accosted by a flurry of females. His arrival seemed to spark hope in the breasts of matchmaking mamas who decided his very presence in the ballroom was a sign he was searching for a wife. It was actually quite amusing.”

“I found it less amusing,” said Grant.

“Was it so bad they no longer issue you vouchers?” asked the dowager.

“Obtaining a voucher is not the difficult part,” said Grant.

“Those vouchers are quite exclusive,” said Pen. “I doubt they would issue one to Miss Talbot.”

“Is it a voucher you need?” asked Grant. “I confess when you said you needed a man, I was hoping for something a little more exciting.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” said Genie.

“Not at all! Which day should you like to attend? I shall promise that your vouchers will be delivered to you. And in payment, you can offer me the first dance.”

“I promise,” said Genie, warming to the idea. Dancing again with Mr. Grant, being held in his arms… her ardor was cooled by a pointed glare from her aunt.

“Can you do this?” asked the dowager. “Lady Jersey will surely object.”

“But I am on friendly terms with Lady Jersey and close with the princess. Leave the worries to me.”

Despite Genie’s interest in sitting next to Mr. Grant, she was firmly placed in the center of a group of men, while Grant was corralled into making up a fourth for whist with Lord and Lady Bremerton and the duchess. Genie felt sorry for the man, but he accepted his fate with equanimity and even made staunch, old Lord Bremerton break forth into laughter.

Genie survived a dull game of lottery tickets. Her only consolation was in Mr. Blakely’s confidence that he also was not an enthusiast of the game and would have preferred a more challenging pastime or even reading a good book, to which Genie could only agree. The game was so simple for Mr. Blakely, he did not even have to remove his gloves during the play.

After cards, Genie noted that the dowager gave the duke several pointed looks and a glare so intense she would not have been surprised to see Marchford suddenly burst into flames. With a stifled sigh, Marchford stood and asked for the attention of his family and friends. “Lady Louisa, we have long had an understanding between us. I would like now to make this betrothal official by making a formal announcement and celebrating it with a ball.”

Louisa’s eyes widened and her lips were pressed into a straight line.

“Oh yes!” shrieked Lady Bremerton, her excitement getting the best of her. “That would be lovely! A grand ball, how delightful!” It was a vindication to Lady Bremerton, whose friends were beginning to talk that the duke would never come up to scratch.

Lady Bremerton began to talk of dates with the dowager, with the promise they would get together soon. Marchford took Lady Louisa’s hand and bestowed upon her a chaste kiss. Genie could have sworn she saw Louisa snatch her hand back.