Chapter Eleven
On Grace’s next late-night visit to Ian’s home, the butler greeted them at the back door accompanied by a tall, thin woman wearing a black dress with a starched white collar and cuffs.
“Good evening, my lord. Good evening, miss.” The woman bobbed a curtsy and then smiled.
Ian made the introductions. “This is Mrs. Smithson, the new housekeeper.”
Grace’s eyes widened. She’d never expected Ian to obtain a housekeeper so quickly.
“Everything is as you wished, miss,” Jenkins said.
She looked at the butler standing beside the new housekeeper, an eager expression on his wrinkled face. “Thank you, Jenkins.”
Ian led Grace farther into the kitchen. Once they were alone, he chuckled, drawing her attention.
“What’s so humorous?” Grace asked.
“It’s only your third visit here and already you’ve charmed stodgy Jenkins. I overheard him speaking highly of you to Mrs. Smithson,” Ian said.
“I didn’t charm Jenkins.”
“Oh? He’s nearly tripped over his own feet to greet you, and he’s been fussing in the library all evening to arrange everything just so.”
“I left Jenkins a note the last time I was here. He was merely following my instructions.”
“If you say so.”
She glared at him and changed the topic. “I’m surprised you retained a housekeeper so quickly.”
“You told me to, remember? I’m merely following your instructions.”
“I didn’t expect—”
“You needn’t worry. I’m paying her enough to keep our arrangement secret.”
The thought hadn’t entered her mind. Clearly, he’d misinterpreted her concern. Unlike her first visit when she’d feared Jenkins would gossip about her presence and a scandal would ensue, Grace hadn’t worried when she’d met the housekeeper.
Ian was right.
Was she beginning to trust him?
Her stomach fluttered at the notion. But the truth was that her reputation remained secure, and she no longer feared him. She had spent hours alone with him in his home…in his bedchamber…and he hadn’t physically harmed her in any way.
But he had kissed her.
Would he try to again? And why did the thought not cause alarm, but rather anticipation?
She frowned at her thoughts. She was easily forgetting who he was—not just a wealthy earl but the owner of a gambling club, the worst kind of establishment in Grace’s mind. He took advantage of gamblers—addicts who were as drawn to the tables and the roll of the dice as those who became dependent on opium. The effect was the same. It ruined men.
She must not forget this about him.
She cleared her throat. “If everything is ready, we should begin.”
“Of course.”
She climbed the stairs beside him and stole a glance at his face. His profile was strong, and her gaze swept from his shoulders to his broad chest.
An eager look flashed in his eyes. “I believe you will be quite pleased at what you see.”
He ushered her to the library and opened the door. A table with pristine white tablecloth, fine china, crystal, and silver gleamed beneath the candlelight. Everything was arranged for an intimate dinner for two—a rendezvous for lovers. The rows of books on the shelves only added to the romanticism for Grace.
“Will this do?” he asked.
She waited for her quickened pulse to quiet. “It’s sufficient.”
“Cook went home hours ago. I regret there is no food, but there’s a fine bottle of wine.” He motioned to a bottle on the table.
“Food is not required to teach proper table manners. Most balls have supper rooms, and you must be able to take a meal with family and friends without mishap.”
He held her chair as she took her seat, his fingers once again lingering on her shoulders a moment longer than necessary. Her heart seemed to rush to the spot he touched, and she bit her tongue to keep from commenting. Why draw attention to it?
He settled across from her, and candlelight flickered off his handsome features. He reached for the bottle and poured two goblets.
He handed her a glass and their fingers brushed. She felt a familiar shiver of awareness and feared he could hear her uneven breathing. She sipped the wine. It was delicious and went down smoothly.
“Where do we start?” he asked.
“Sit straight and with confidence. Never place an elbow on the table. A footman will serve you and stand behind you during the meal.”
“I’m sitting straight. I don’t like anyone to stand behind my back.”
“Why?”
“A man can attack from behind.”
She made a face. “Imagine you are in a fine dining room, not in the rookeries. No one is going to attack you from behind, especially not a footman. You must accustom yourself.” At his shrug, she continued. “The order of the silver must be observed.” She went over the use of every fork, knife, and spoon. “The footman will clear your plate between each course and serve the next.”
“How many courses?”
“Six, sometimes seven.”
“Torture. I’ll die of gluttony or boredom.”
“Are you going to argue over every detail?”
“Only the ludicrous ones.”
He topped off her glass, and she drank. “You grew up in an earl’s household and must be familiar with everything I’ve told you. You’re jesting with me, aren’t you?”
“I am.” His eyes glinted with humor, somehow making him even more attractive.
“Why?”
He winked at her. “You are easy to tease.”
She frowned again and reached for her glass. “You’re maddening.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You really shouldn’t tease. You should take everything I say to heart.”
“Now it’s my turn to ask why?”
“Because I met your sisters.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You met Ellie and Olivia?”
She experienced a moment of satisfaction that she’d taken him off guard. “I did. They are charming and lovely young ladies.”
“They are.”
For once, he was agreeing with her. “They are nothing like you.”
He let out a bark of laughter.
She sipped her wine. “That was not meant to be a compliment.” She knew she was being horribly rude but couldn’t seem to stop. The truth was she was enjoying herself. As she sipped from her glass of wine—a glass that Ian kept refilling—she began to relax.
“Where did you meet them?”
“At the milliners. I was—” She stopped herself just in time. Good God, she’d almost slipped that she was at the shop to deliver business ledgers to the owner. It had to be the wine loosening her tongue. She hadn’t eaten in hours, and the wine was delicious…and potent.
“You were at the milliners and what?” He was looking at her intently as if trying to read her mind.
She cleared her throat. “I was with my friend, Lady Prudence. We were shopping for hats.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I assumed so if you were at the milliners.”
She shot him an exasperated look. “Your mother, Lady Castleton, arrived with your sisters. Prudence and I have been acquainted with your mother from the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society.”
“I see. Did you perchance speak with Ellie or Olivia?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. They are both friendly.” A memory crossed her mind, and she frowned. “I think your mother means well, but Lady Taddlesworth does not know what gentlemen prefer.”
“Who?”
“Lady Taddlesworth is a widow who your mother thinks will assist in Ellie and Olivia’s debut.”
“I recall my sisters mentioning a woman by that name when I last visited them.”
“Did you know Ellie dislikes the piano but loves to read? And Olivia hates to sing but enjoys riding?”
A dark eyebrow shot up. “I didn’t know.”
She tried to look down her nose at him and failed. Even seated, he was too tall. “You should spend more time with them.”
“I plan to. I want them to come live with me.”
He did? She was surprised he’d want two young women to live in his house. She leaned across the table and pushed a wayward lock of hair out of her eye. “I now fully understand why you’re doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“This,” she said, motioning to the table with a sweep of her hand. She would have knocked over his glass if he hadn’t snatched it back in time.
“You feel a sense of responsibility for your sisters. Do you deny it?”
“I don’t.”
She swallowed her wine and licked her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. A tingle raced down her spine. Did he want to kiss her again? Her face heated at the thought. Did she want him to?
“You are more admirable than you lead others to believe,” she said. “You must care for your sisters if you are going through this with me. I also suspect some of my instructions make you recall life in your earlier days.”
“It’s been years. I have grown rusty.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t complain of my commission. I would never have been able to repay the six thousand pounds otherwise.”
His expression darkened. “You shouldn’t have to. Coming to the Raven Club was downright dangerous, even though your reckless visit benefited me.”
“That’s being a bit hypocrit—” She couldn’t get her tongue to properly say the word, so she continued. “Foolish.”
“If you were married, you would not have to worry about your household. It would benefit your younger brother as well. He’d have a strong male influence, and you would not have to worry about his schooling.”
By strong male influence she knew he meant anyone other than their wastrel father. A part of her wanted to defend her father, but she couldn’t argue against Ian’s logic.
Still, his assumptions irritated her and she glowered at him. “I don’t want to marry just anyone. I’ll have you know there were interested gentleman, but I refused to marry the Viscount Thorp who is in his late sixties and searching for his fourth wife. And the Marquess of Haverton is grossly overweight and has false teeth. I want to marry for love.”
“For love?”
She set her goblet down with a thunk. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not a requirement.”
“I’m quite aware of the desirable requirements.” She held up a forefinger. “Wealthy.” She held up a second finger. “Titled.” She held up a third, and hesitated as she tried to come up with another trait, then she sat up and said, “And faithful.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Faithful?”
“Yes, ladies do not want unfaithful rogues for husbands.”
“I do believe you added that just for yourself,” he said.
“Why would you think that?”
“I suspect many women would be willing to overlook that trait as long as the first two fingers you held up are met. I suspect you have someone in mind that meets all three requirements.”
She raised her hand and yawned. “Perhaps.”
“Who? You’re not thinking of the Viscount Newton’s youngest son, are you? After all, he’s who your father prefers for you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. The viscount’s fifth son didn’t possess the first trait: wealth. He needed a woman with a dowry.
“What about you? Are you looking for a wife?” she asked.
“No. I’ll never marry.”
“Never? Or do you mean not until you enjoy your bachelorhood for a few more years?”
“I mean never. I’m already married to the Raven Club.”
“That’s ludicrous. You can’t be married to a gambling club. It’s nothing but an object…a place…a thing. And not a moral one, if you ask me.”
“What I mean to say is that I’m committed to it.”
She felt a bit lightheaded and blamed the alcohol for her loose tongue. “You believe that means there is no room for a wife or for love?”
“I suppose that’s what I’m suggesting.”
She leaned on the table. “Hmm. Well, I dislike gambling halls. I wouldn’t want a husband who owned one.”
Ian pushed back his chair and stood. “We should end for the night.”
Grace blinked at his abrupt tone. She’d always been the one to end their lessons. Had the topic of marriage upset him? Or had he grown weary of their time together tonight already? And why did that thought distress her?