Page 123 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
He looked puzzled, so she went on, “You didn’t have to say anything—you could have left me in complete ignorance in the hope I would never find out. Instead, you cared enough about what I might think and feel to make a clean breast of your past failing, even though you’ve put it behind you.”
She allowed her smile to deepen. “And just so you know, you would never have passed Silas’s assessment if you harbored any vestige of a liking for gambling—he has antennae that are beyond sensitive when it comes to detecting that particular vice.”
He caught her raised hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “And Silas knows, as I do, that the subject matters to you.”
“Indeed. Yet far from denouncing you, he’s talking of going into business with you. In that respect, there can be no higher accolade as to your trustworthiness.”
He tipped his head. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re probably right.”
“Trust me, I am. I’ve watched that old man navigate the shoals of England’s businessmen, and he never puts a foot wrong.”
“Hmm. I might just push to become his apprentice.”
“You could do a lot worse.”
He met her eyes. “We’ve strayed from the critical point. Can you accept me as I am now and overlook what I once was?”
She tightened her grip on his fingers and unwaveringly held his gaze. “The man I see before me now is the man I always hoped you would be—just ten years older and ten years wiser. As for any inclination to gamble, you stand before me as wealthy as Croesus, proof positive that you haven’t been frittering away your fortune but, instead, growing it. That’s not the hallmark of an inveterate gambler.”
His features finally eased, and his lips curved wryly. “No, that’s true. But I should probably warn you that, to some extent, I’ve swung the other way. When it comes to parting with money, you’ll discover that I’m rather careful.”
She laughed. “I believe I can live with that.”
“Good.” Gray exhaled, and it felt as if a massive weight had slid from his shoulders. For several moments, he luxuriated in her laughing, loving gaze, then keeping his eyes on hers, gestured toward the house. “Next subject. I fell in love with this place before I knew it was your old home, but I don’t know whether, for you, it holds good memories or bad.” Keeping his tone even, he added, “I did hear that your brother wasn’t all that bothered about selling it and moving away.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Her smile grew only more dazzling as she looked at the house. “But he wasn’t our grandmother’s favorite. I was. I used to spend so much time here—with her and Mama, too—when I was a child and even later. My memories of this house are wonderful. That was why I was so cut up when we had to sell.”
Relief swamped him, and he grinned like a schoolboy. “Thank God for that.”
As one, they walked toward the house.
He swung the hand he still held. “I take it you’re willing to look over the place.”
She beamed. “Oh yes.”
They climbed the steps to the front porch. Gray fished out the front-door key from the back of the urn where the agent had said it would be, then opened the door and ushered Izzy inside.
She knew her way; she kept hold of his hand, and he let her lead as she explored her old home.
“Very little has been changed,” she murmured.
They went down, then up, and eventually, she led him into the sunlit ballroom. Once inside, she slipped her fingers free and went to the central window. She stood before the large glass pane and looked over the lawn to the river and the fields beyond.
He joined her, standing shoulder to shoulder and looking over the sweep of land to the south. After a moment, he found her hand with his, raised her fingers to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I mentioned that Ancaster Park isn’t far away. Although I never ventured in this direction, this area is my home. It’s the electorate I’d like to stand for—the local member is retiring, and he’s encouraging me to put my name forward. And in this district, being a Child counts for quite a lot.”
She glanced his way, curious and encouraging, and he continued, describing his intention to work to make life better for as many people as he could. “Politics offers the prospect of reaching further and making a difference for more people than just those I represent.”
She dipped her head in agreement, then asked, “Why this house?”
He had his reasons, including location, ease of access from London, size, spaces both inside and out, and the right mix of reception rooms for the events a member of Parliament would be expected to host. After elucidating those, he studied her face. “If you would rather not host such events here, we can buy a house in London as well and entertain there.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I know as well as you do that the most important people to build connections with are those who live in the electorate. Local entertaining will need to be done here, and”—she met his eyes—“I don’t mind in the least.”
He tipped his head, studying her face. “Can you see it? Us here, living the sort of life we want to live.”
She held his gaze for several heartbeats, then looked out of the window. “You’re proposing to make me mistress of Tickencote Grange.”
“The position is yours if you want it.”
