Page 66 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Gray opened the door and descended. He handed Izzy down, and they walked up the steps and were admitted to the house by Cottesloe.
Despite being deeply pleased by the spontaneous invitation to dine as if he were part of the family, Gray did his best to mute his pleasure to an acceptable, less-revealing level. Indeed, he wasn’t sure why he felt so powerfully uplifted; he only knew he did.
The dowager countess was already in the drawing room when Izzy led him in. With admirable control, the dowager concealed her surprise and welcomed him warmly. She was distantly acquainted with his parents, but after the usual polite queries about their health, she turned the conversation to how he and Izzy had spent their day.
Marietta came in soon afterward and insisted on hearing their news as well, then Cottesloe summoned them to the dining table.
Gray offered the dowager his arm, and she took it with a pleased smile. He escorted her to her chair. She sat and directed him to the chair on her right. Izzy was on his right, and with Marietta opposite, the conversation turned to the usual members-of-the-ton-who-lived-in-London subjects.
It was easy to allow himself to sink into the moment. To laugh, smile, encourage, and enjoy the company of the three ladies and to feel as if, more than being merely welcomed, he had a place there, a comfortable niche that fitted him in their otherwise female world.
By the time the four of them retreated to the drawing room and the tea trolley arrived, he was feeling distinctly mellow. Enough to decide there was no point analyzing the moment; it simply was, and it felt very right.
There was, however, one point he needed to address. Seated in an armchair opposite the sofa on which the countess and Marietta sat, with Izzy in the armchair alongside his, he lowered his teacup, set it on the saucer, and looked Izzy’s way. “As I’ll be away from London tomorrow, one of my men—a footman—will be here in the morning to escort you to the printing works, and he’ll remain nearby during the day and escort you home as well.”
He met Izzy’s faintly outraged stare and calmly stated, “With Quimby’s killer at large and the hue and cry edition about to go out, it would be unconscionable of me to leave you to walk the streets between Woburn Square and the printing works alone.”
Her lips tightened, but as he’d anticipated, her mother and Marietta were quick to thank him for arranging such a necessary precaution.
Barely registering her mother’s and her sister’s predictable comments, Izzy read in Gray’s eyes not so much a challenge as a simple hope that she would accept his arranged protection.
Given he’d been clever enough to speak of it in her mother’s hearing—although she was faintly peeved that he’d employed such a strategy to effectively tie her hands—there was no point trying to argue against, much less dismiss, the need for such a guard. Aside from all else, she wasn’t such a ninny.
But I would have liked to at least make him work for my agreement.
Stifling the urge to humph disparagingly, she regally inclined her head. “Thank you.”
She saw his eyes flare slightly; she’d surprised him.Good.Such high-handed tactics were acceptable only when she agreed with the outcome.
After that minor moment, the evening rolled on, pleasant and undemanding. He was an easy guest, and by the time he rose to leave, her mother and her sister had grown entirely comfortable in his presence.
He bowed over their hands, deploying his ready charm in thanking them for their company.
She rose before he turned to her; when he did, she waved toward the front hall. “I’ll see you out.”
They walked side by side into the hall, only to discover Cottesloe wasn’t there. She tugged the bellpull, then returned to stand with Gray. Others might be tempted into conversation, but between them, the silence felt relaxed and companionable.
She felt his gaze rove her face and looked up and met it.
His amber eyes captured her awareness and effortlessly held it, even as, his gaze locked with hers, he stilled.
And suddenly, there was more—much more—than simple silence between them.
Something that lured and ached andwantedburgeoned and grew, freed by the moment to pulse ever more strongly, linking them as if the past ten years had never been.
She felt herself lean toward him, and he seemed to lean closer to her.
The click of heels on tiles reached them.
They both blinked, drew back, and looked at the swinging door as Cottesloe came hurrying through.
“My apologies, my lady—my lord.” With an abbreviated bow, the butler hurried to fetch Gray’s greatcoat and hat.
As Gray shrugged on his coat, his eyes found hers with a question—an appeal she had no difficulty interpreting—then he thanked Cottesloe and accepted his hat.
Responding to the unvoiced plea, she said, “Thank you, Cottesloe. I’ll see his lordship out.”
“Indeed, my lady. My lord.” With a bow, Cottesloe took himself off.
