“Good afternoon, Mr. Fredericks,” Jane said.
Grace whirled around to find herself staring like a mooncalf at Mason Fredericks, who stood just a few feet away. Spots of color appeared on his cheeks as he struggled to pretend that he hadn’t heard Grace bleat the word phalluses.
She wasn’t much given to thoughts of a religious or spiritual nature, but at that moment, she prayed to any available deity to strike her down with a convenient bolt of lightning.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Argyle,” Mason replied.
Jane curtsied in response, but Grace saw in the way her friend kept her lips glued shut it was all Jane could do to keep her laughter in check.
“And, Lady Grace,” Mason continued, turning to her, “it’s always gratifying to see you.”
“You, as well.”
They stood together in silence, and Grace fought to keep from shifting from foot to foot. Strange—now that she’d determined a path to attract Mason’s romantic notice, she could hardly put together a sentence that didn’t include dull inanities.
“Do you enjoy visiting the museum?” Jane asked in an overly loud voice.
Mason smiled, revealing the dimple in his left cheek, and Grace’s insides somersaulted. “It’s impossible not to appreciate the breadth of this collection. I’ve been coming here since I was a lad. Much to the disappointment of my sport-loving father,” he added with a wry grin.
Don’t sigh like a ninny, Grace reminded herself sternly. But it was a struggle.
“However,” he continued, sobering, “there’s something so disheartening to see this many animals robbed of their lives for the pleasure of mankind. The world is magnificent enough without anyone trying to drive a stake through it.”
Grace beamed. “That is my belief, as well.”
“Is it?” He smiled again, and when his gaze met hers, she barely sensed the floor beneath her. “How wonderful. You understand me perfectly.”
This was her chance. She could impress upon him that they loved the same things, and that their hearts and minds were perfectly aligned, if only he could think of her as a woman. “Yes, I—”
“Ho, Fredericks!”
Mason lifted his hand in greeting as a gentleman with gingery hair hailed him from across the room. “Aldwich! What a pleasure to see you. I meant to ask—” He took a step toward the redheaded man before hastily bowing to Grace and Jane. “Ladies, do excuse me.”
And then he was gone, already halfway across the chamber before Grace could formulate a reply.
Grace’s body went leaden with disappointment. She fought to keep her head upright, and a pleasant look on her face, as if she hadn’t had her heart crushed beside the display of rocks and minerals.
“Ah, hell,” Jane muttered. She took Grace’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry, my love.”
“It’s all right.” Her gaze followed Mason as he and Aldwich strode from the room, talking animatedly.
“It will be different when he sees you with Mr. Holloway,” Jane said, her voice encouraging. “He’ll finally realize what a gem you are.”
“Rather irritating that men seem to only value what other men possess,” Grace muttered.
“They’re simpler beings,” Jane said. “They haven’t the finer powers of discernment that women have. Even Mr. Fredericks is, at heart, merely a man. Douglas, too, has limits on his imagination.”
“And yet,” Grace said on a sigh, “we want them, anyway.” Sebastian’s face flashed in her mind, and her body heated to recall the way she’d felt waltzing with him. More. She wanted more.
Jane grinned. “Someone must be responsible for the continuation of the species.”
“Rather noble of us to shoulder that responsibility.”
“’Twas ever thus.” Jane looped her arm through Grace’s. “Come. Let us seek out two things that never fall short of our expectations.”
“Books and cakes?”
“Precisely.”
Anticipation coursed beneath Seb’s skin as he climbed the stairs to the ballroom. It took sizable effort to keep from taking the steps two at a time. And while the prospect of yet more instruction on how to become a rake didn’t give energy to his limbs, the expectation of seeing Grace did.