Part 21 (1/2)
As the Grayson carriage pulled into the crowded drive of the Hammond residence, Isabel could not bite back her groan. One guest in particular filled her with dread.
Sitting across from her, Gray arched his brow in silent query.
Your mother, she mouthed, showing caution so as not to anger Lord Spencer, who shared a squab with her husband.
Gray pinched the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh.
Suddenly all the antic.i.p.ation she'd had for the upcoming long weekend party fled. Stepping down from the carriage with Gray's a.s.sistance, she managed a smile and took inventory of the a.s.sembled guests. She shuddered when the Dowager Lady Grayson gifted her with a conspiratorial wink. There was no avoiding the fact that Isabel had liked the woman better when they had been at odds.
”Bella.”
The relief she felt at the sound of the voice behind her was dizzying. Turning, she caught Rhys' outstretched hands like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. His smile was brilliant, his rich mahogany hair capped by a das.h.i.+ng hat.
”What are you doing here?” she asked, well aware that tame country parties were not his preference.
He shrugged. ”I feel the need for a little respectable company.”
Her eyes narrowed. ”Are you ill?”
Laughing, he shook his head. ”No, though I do believe I've caught a bit of melancholia. Something I'm certain a few days of fresh country air will do wonders to cure.”
”Melancholia?” Tugging off her glove, Isabel pressed her wrist to his forehead.
Rhys rolled his eyes. ”Since when does a bad mood cause fevers?”
”You have never been in a bad mood in your life.”
”There is a first for everything.”
A firm grip at her waist drew her attention.
”Grayson,” her brother greeted, his gaze lifting above her head.
”Trenton,” Gray returned. ”I would not have expected to find you here.”
”A temporary bout of insanity.”
”Ah.” Gray tugged her closer, a motion which had her gazing up at him with wide eyes. They'd had an unspoken accord to avoid touching each other in public, since it seemed to spark a flare of l.u.s.t neither could control. ”I appear to be suffering from the same ailment.”
”Grayson. Isabel. Lovely to see you both here,” the dowager said as she approached.
As Isabel opened her mouth to reply, Gray squeezed the upper swell of her b.u.t.tock. She jumped, startling his mother. Reaching behind her, she swatted at his hand.
”Are you unwell?” the dowager asked, frowning in disapproval. ”You should not have come if you are ill or out of sorts.”
”She is perfectly healthy,” Gray said smoothly. ”As I can well attest.”
Isabel stomped on his booted foot, although doing so caused no damage at all. What was his intent? She could not collect. To tease her so openly...
”Crudity is common,” his mother reproved. ”And beneath a man of your station.”
”But, Mother, it is so enjoyable.”
”Lord and Lady Grayson! How lovely of you to come.”
Turning her head, Isabel found Lady Hammond descending the stairs from her front door. ”We are delighted to be invited, of course,” she replied.
”Now that you have arrived,” the viscountess continued, ”we can set off. What a lovely day to make the trip, don't you agree?”
”I do,” she murmured, eager to return to their carriage.
”I shall ride with you, Grayson,” the dowager said.
Isabel winced, suddenly finding the prospect of the daylong drive a torment.
Gray gave a soothing caress down the length of her spine, but the comfort it offered did not last. The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent in the tight confines of their traveling coach listening to his mother chastising them all for one transgression or another. She could only imagine the horror of living with a parent who found fault with everything, and she surrept.i.tiously stroked Gray's thigh with the back of her hand in sympathy. He sat deathly silent the entire ride, coming to life only when they stopped to change horses and take luncheon.
It was with great relief that they arrived at the Hammonds' lovely country estate late in the day. As soon as the carriage rolled to a halt, Grayson leapt out and a.s.sisted her down. That was when she caught sight of Hargreaves, and realized why Grayson had been acting as possessive as he had. Even now, despite his outward appearance of boredom, she sensed his alertness in the proximity he kept to her and the slow sweep of his gaze across the drive.
”What a lovely estate,” the dowager cried, bringing the pleased smile of the viscountess her way. It was indeed a praiseworthy property with its lovely golden brick exterior and profusion of colorful flowers and climbing vines.
A week here under other circ.u.mstances would be a joy. Considering the personages in attendance, including Lady Stanhope who was presently ogling Gray in a manner that riled Isabel, she doubted that would be the case in this instance. ”We should have remained in London,” she muttered.
”Shall we go?” Gray asked. ”I have an estate not far from here.”
She turned wide eyes to him. ”Are you mad?” But she could see in the intensity of his blue eyes that he was quite willing to leave. While it seemed sometimes that no trace of the Grayson she once knew remained, flashes of the one she recalled occasionally appeared. He was more polished, more somber, but no less ruthless than he always had been. ”No.”
He sighed and offered his arm. ”I knew you would say that. I hope you are amenable to spending a great deal of time in our rooms.”
”We could have spent time in our rooms at home. Here it will be rude.”
”You should have mentioned that earlier and saved us the trip.”
”Don't foist the blame for this on me,” she whispered, s.h.i.+vering slightly at the feel of his powerful forearm flexing beneath her fingertips. ”This was entirely your doing.”
”I wanted to travel away,” he said dryly, his sidelong glance revealing his knowledge of his affect on her, ”and spend some time with you and Spencer. I had no notion this would turn into a gathering of all the people we most wished to avoid.”
”Isabel!”
Rhys' cry caught their attention. Walking backward with his gaze directed elsewhere, her brother nearly ran her over. Grayson, however, stepped in as a formidable buffer and saved her.
”Beg your pardon,” her brother offered quickly, then he looked at her with a tangible excitement about him. ”Do you know who that woman is over there?”
Looking around his tall frame, she saw a small group of women speaking with Lady Hammond. ”Which one?”
”The brunette to the right of Lady Stanhope.”
”Oh...Yes, I know her, although at the moment, her name eludes me.”
”Abby?” he prompted. ”Abigail?”