Addie let out a deep breath. “Thank you.” She stood and kissed her parents on the cheek. “I wish you a good night, then.”
Just as she reached the door to the corridor, Mother said, “I made an appointment for us to visit the modiste in the morning to have a new gown made up for you for our dinner party next week. I am sure Lord Berkshire would think you quite lovely in a pale rose gown.”
Addie held in the scream that wanted to rip from her throat.
Grayson checked his timepiece, then tucked it away in the small pocket on his gray and black striped vest. Two o’clock. Right on time.
He hurried up the steps to the Mallory townhouse, grateful for the bright sun that had followed the storm the night before. The sunshine matched his spirits, and he found himself whistling as he walked, his spirits high. He tried not to believe it was because he was going to see Miss Mallory, but a little bit of honestly refused to allow him that deception.
Yes. He did like Miss Mallory. A lot. But it could never go further than that. The fact that Michael took an instant liking to her only helped. Or made it worse, depending on how one looked at it. He did not want to fall in love again. Once was enough when it ended the way his marriage had.
Michael and Mrs. Banfield waited in the rented carriage for him to collect Miss Mallory for their ride to Hyde Park. The grounds would be too wet to stroll, but they could take a nice ride and then maybe stop for tea at Gunter’s.
The butler had the door opened before his foot reached the top step. “Good afternoon, my lord. Miss Mallory is expecting you. Please follow me to the drawing room.”
Grayson tried very hard to remain a gentleman, and not groan when he saw Mrs. Mallory waiting for him, perched on the arm of the sofa. She popped up and broke into a huge smile when the butler announced him.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Mallory. Are you having a pleasant day?”
She held her arms out to him as if they were long-lost relatives. “Yes, quite pleasant. Especially now that you have arrived.”
Not sure if she intended for him to take her hands, or if she was—shudder—going to hug him, he stepped back and elected to take her hands. “You are looking well.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She turned to a small table alongside the sofa and picked up a cream-colored envelope and held it out to him. “Here is your invitation to dinner next week. It will be a small gathering.”
Grayson sighed inwardly. He’d forgotten how members of the ton thought a small gathering was the size of the House of Lords. “Thank you. I look forward to it.”
Liar. He’d rather bang his head against the wall for a half hour than attend a dinner party with members of the ton. He’d never enjoyed life in London, preferring instead a quiet life in Bath or at his country estate. Margaret had always wanted to attend as many events as she could during the Season, and then again during the holidays.
His ideal evening was sitting in a comfortable chair next to his fireplace, a glass of fine brandy in his hand, Michael sitting at his feet playing with his toys and . . .
He would not allow himself to add the final component. Yet, his brain did not cooperate, and it shouted: Miss Mallory sitting across from me, reading a book, or working on her sewing.
It was then that he realized Mrs. Mallory had been speaking to him. Luckily his automatic responses, learned from childhood, was to nod and smile.
“So you agree?” Mrs. Mallory broke into a brilliant smile.
Blast. What had he just agreed to?
“I am sure you will enjoy this new actor. From what I’ve read he is quite good in The Two Gentlemen of Verona.”
Dear God. Two Gentlemen of Verona, what he considered to be one of the worst of Shakespeare’s plays, and from what he’d heard, he was not alone in his assessment.
“I am sure I will.” Luckily at that moment, Miss Mallory arrived to rescue him from her mother before he promised any number of things for which he had no time.
&
nbsp; “Good afternoon, my lord.” Miss Mallory was a vision in loveliness as she swept into the room. Her mother’s eyes lit up as she studied her daughter.
“You look lovely, Adeline.” Mrs. Mallory directed her beaming bright smile in his direction. “Doesn’t she look wonderful, my lord? That carriage gown is stunning.”
“Yes. Indeed.” Despite her mother’s annoying matchmaking attempts, Grayson was sure he had just given the woman even more ammunition by how he also regarded Miss Mallory. Except he wasn’t admiring how winsome she looked in her carriage gown, he was imagining how she looked underneath all the layers of clothes she wore.
The vibrant lavender of her gown hugged her waist and hips, emphasizing her lovely curved figure, and turned her deep blue eyes violet. A sweet little matching hat sat on top of her head, black netting falling over her forehead. A few ringlets had been left to dangle alongside her cheeks, with the rest of her hair drawn back in a chignon.
When Mrs. Mallory cleared her throat, he realized he’d been staring at her daughter with a hunger like a green youth.
“Where’s Michael?” Miss Mallory pulled on black kid leather gloves and smiled up at him.