Quent looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Lacy?”
Blast Quent. Was he going to make her spell it all out for him? She’d flirted most of the afternoon with the man. Surely her brother wasn’t that blind. “He’s not married or…already betrothed, is he?” The latter would be just her luck.
Quent shook his head. “Not that I’ m aware of. You’re not really thinking of setting your cap forDaniel Lacy, are you?”
“I don’t know him well enough to make that decision yet. Is there a reason I shouldn’t consider him?” she asked. She didn’t, after all, know anything about the man except that he seemed to adore his sister, that he had a pleasant personality, that there was something warm and gentle about him, and…that he wasnotOliver Ashbee. That last one was most important.
Her brother shrugged. “I just would never have thought he was your sort.”
“Is that a slight against him or me?”
At that Quent chuckled. “Neither.” He shook his head. “He’s just rather studious, Grace. The rest of us would be playing cricket or riding with the wind at our backs but Lacy was nevernotin the library, his head in one book or another.”
A thirst for knowledge was hardly something that would disqualify the man from Grace’s quest. “So you don’t think I’d care for anintelligentgentleman? Is that it? “
Her brother leaned back against the squabs and draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You are Thomas Post’s daughter, love. Each one of us inherited his thrill-seeking in one form or another. Lacy doesn’t have one adventurous bone in his body.”
As their father had died before she and her sisters were born, Grace couldn’t make any sort of judgment on his character. But no one had ever accusedherof being a thrill-seeker before. She didn’t race along the Bath Road like her idiot brothers did, as though tempting God to take them before their time in the exact same way He’d taken their father. She hadn’t joined the Home Office to offer up her services as a spy or pieced together her own smuggling ring or any other such nonsense. Thrill-seeker, indeed. Quent was an idiot.
“Mr. Lacy seemed pleasant, Quent. Won’t you please invite him and his sister for dinner soon?”
Her brother blew out a breath “I’ll invite Lacy if you want me to, Grace. But inviting his sister is not a good idea.”
Because she was so young? Grace didn’t care about the girl’s age. On the contrary, if she was going to set her cap for Daniel Lacy, getting to know his sister could only be of benefit, especially as he seemed genuinely attached to the girl. She frowned in response at her brother.
“She was born on the wrong side of the blanket,” Quent explained with a wince like he really didn’t want to have to tell her that, but didn’t see a way around it. “His father’s mistress. I hardly think your mother would approve of the girl. And if youdodecide he’s the fellow for you—” he shook his head as though the idea was absurd “—you won’t want your mother to find his acceptance of his sister to make him an unsuitable candidate.”
His sister was a bastard? Grace’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t expected to hear anything of that sort. Mr. Lacy had been so kind to the girl. It spoke to his warm character, didn’t it, that he wasn’t bothered by the circumstances of his sister’s birth? “Who is his father?” she breathed out. Kind as Mr. Lacy appeared, if his family had a certain reputation it wouldn’t matter whether he brought his sister to dinner or not, Mama would be unbearable if she considered the Lacys badton.
“Spare to the Downe earldom, if he’s still alive. I have no idea. Haven’t seen Lacy in half a decade at least.”
“We can find them in Mama’s Debrett’s,” Hope suggested. “The Earl of Downe? With an e?” she asked their brother.
A snort escaped Quent. “I almost feel bad for the fellow if you’re both working against him.”
“Feel badly for him all you want,” Grace replied evenly. “But do invite him to dinner, Quent.” He was, after all, the only gentleman she’d encountered so far this season that she’d liked well enough to even consider as a prospective husband. And her time was running out. For all she knew, they could walk into Post House that very afternoon to find Danby waiting for her with a special license in his hand. The very thought sent a shiver racing down her spine. Please, please, please let Mr. Lacy be equally pleasant upon their next encounter. And please let him be willing to be brought up to scratch.
Chapter 6
Oliver wanted to kick himself. He’d been so concerned about Ginny that first day at Waring Hall, and he’d wanted Lord Douglas and his wife as far away from his sister as possible, but now… now he wished he knew where the devil the couple was and that he could get his hands around their necks. They’d almost starved his sister in the days after Grasmere’s demise, and Ginny had been so despondent, she hadn’t had the strength to put up any sort of fight. She’d always been delicate, and it was a miracle she hadn’t perished before Oliver had arrived. Thank God for Swale and Benjy. Oliver would owe the pair of servants for the rest of his life for alerting him to Ginny’s peril.
Ginny was recovering, but slowly. Her eyes didn’t appear as sunken as they had upon his arrival, and her skin had returned to its usual pallor, but she was just as frail as she had been that first day. And that terrified him like nothing else. His dear, sweet sister who had never harmed a living soul in her life--she’d been though such a horrific ordeal.
Doctor Robertson had assured him that Ginny’s babe had not suffered and that the child seemed as healthy as one could hope. So at least there was that. A healthy baby on the way, and he felt certain the child would help restore his sister to her former lively self. She’d just have to make it through childbirth. In her current state, the thought of that terrified Oliver to his core. If he could just get his hands on Douglas Waring…
“Sir,” Swale said from the threshold of the breakfast room. “A letter for you.”
A letter? Oliver reached his hand out for the missive. Who the devil would be writing to him in Westmorland? And then the Danby crest on the envelope caught his eye and Oliver frowned. Grace’s great-uncle? What the devil? He broke the seal and tore open the letter.
Prestwood,
I had hoped to meet with you in London this season and was saddened to hear about Lord Grasmere’s unfortunate and sudden passing. Of course I understand the necessity for you to be with your sister at this time, so we shall have to meet at a later date. I do hope that Lady Grasmere is in good health, and if there is anything I can do to be of assistance during this troubling time, please do not hesitate to ask.
I am headed to Hambleton House this afternoon and I will be sure to pass along your greetings to the very pious earl and Lady Eloise.
Be well.
My condolences.