Page 11 of Everything But the Earl
“Ladies!” said Penny. “Calm yourselves. The earl has not offered yet.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Apologies, but goodness! You must tell us what happened.”
“Nothing.”
“Come, Grace, that is nonsense,” said Helena. “Somethinghappened.”
“I was chatting with the Marquess of Beresford, and then the earl walked over. He asked me to dance, and we waltzed, which was lovely. He is a sprightly dancer. Then he got me a lemonade and we continued to talk. We were looking for the terrace for some fresh air, but walked into the empty sitting room accidentally. Then he kissed me…and my mother walked in.”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “You have to tell us more than that. What was the kisslike?”
Grace sat back down on the settee. “It was a dream,” she said with a sigh. Grace didn’t have a wealth of experience with kisses. She’d only kissed one other man, in fact; he’d been a baron who had courted her the previous Season. But that kiss had been naught but a peck on the lips. But Owen’s kiss had made the Earth move. Owen had kissed Grace like he was a starving man and she was a roast beef. But in the best way. Owen had passion and strength and he’d made Gracefeelthings—tingles, warmth,desire—she’d never felt before. Which made Grace circle back around to her current internal debate: she didn’t want her parents’ dead marriage, but shewascurious.
All the ladies in the room said, “Aw” simultaneously.
Would he offer? That was the question. Grace hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to Owen since the ball, nor had he called on her. She’d written a short note the previous day just to say she’d enjoyed her evening with him, and he’d sent back a brief response:
The pleasure was all mine. I would like to call on you soon.–O
It was all so frustratingly vague.
“Are dreamy kisses enough to base a marriage on?” she asked her friends.
“I thought you didn’t want to marry,” said Penny.
“I don’t, but… Maybe it won’t be all bad.”
“Caernarfon has several properties in Wales, I heard,” said Elizabeth. “And his family owns a castle. Acastle, Grace.”
Grace sighed. She hoped one of those homes had space for a pottery studio. A castle might serve as inspiration for some of her sculpture; likely the castle itself had some old gargoyles or statues of dead kings or something along those lines. On the other hand…
“Wales is so far from London.” And Grace had never been to Wales before.
“I’m sure it’s less than a week’s travel,” said Helena. “What do you say, ladies? If Grace marries the Earl of Caernarfon and moves to Wales, we could make a bit of a holiday of it and go visit her.”
“Yes, of course we will visit,” said Penny.
“I am grateful,” said Grace. “But do you really think marrying Caernarfon is the right thing to do?”
“You may not have much choice,” said Elizabeth. “But I think this is an opportunity for you. Caernarfon is a handsome, wealthy man. He’s not that old, less than five and thirty. You wanted to live at a house in the country, and he has more than one. This may be your best option.”
Grace remained unconvinced.
“What happened to the Marquess of Beresford?” asked Helena. “I thought you were betrothed.”
“He’s in love with someone else,” said Grace. “I saw them kissing at the Rutherford ball. That was actually what started this whole thing. I could never be his wife. I would hate to compete with that.”
“Will he marry her?” asked Elizabeth.
Unwilling to explain the truth about Beresford, Grace just said, “There are circumstances that make me doubt it, but I do not know.”
“Who is this lady?” asked Helena.
“I do not know and did not ask,” said Grace. “But I spotted them in a coat closet.”
Helena laughed as if this were the most delightful thing she’d ever heard. “Beresford has a secret lover! What a delight! I shall ask Patricia. She knows everything.” Patricia was the Hastings girls’ older, married sister.
“We should let it lie. Beresford is no longer my concern.” Grace hadn’t intended to set the gossip brigade on Beresford. She doubted even Patricia would know about Beresford and Lord Waring, but she didn’t want anyone digging too hard.
