The knot in Oliver’s stomach tightened. If he knew a fellow like that, he’d be hard pressed not to put a blade in the man’s chest. “No one off the top of my head,” he said instead. “But if anyone pops to mind, I’ll be sure to point her in the right direction.”
“Heavens, no!” Hope’s green eyes, completely identical to Grace’s, rounded in surprise. “You can’t let her know I told you. If someone pops to mind, whisper his name to me.”
He would not be whispering any names to Lady Hope or helping Grace find some fellow to marry, not if his life depended upon it. “Yes, yes, of course,” he lied, his mind still reeling from Lady Hope’s revelation.
Chapter 2
Asennight. It had been a bloody sennight and Oliver had watched Grace dance, take turns about the room on the arms of, and flirt with at least a dozen gentlemen. He must have worn his teeth down to nubs from all the grinding of them he’d done. It had been, honestly, the worst sennight he’d ever suffered through, and the season was not yet even in full swing.
It didn’t appear, however, that she’d singled out any particular gentleman, and that did put Oliver a bit at ease. Still, he hated to think about her finally losing her heart to someone else and agreeing to become some other man’s wife. Life was bloody unfair.
Had lifebeenfair, Oliver would have married Grace four years ago when he realized he’d fallen in love with her, four years ago when he’d confessed as much and been so very close to taking her innocence, four years ago when he thought his life had been his own to live. But it wasn’t his own, and there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about it except stand across the Ainsley’s ballroom and watch her smile at Viscount Deuxhill, the damned lucky bastard.
“Why are you scowling?” his sister Veronica asked, blinking up at Oliver with complete innocence.
“Not feeling well,” he replied. And it wasn’t a lie. He might not ever feel well again.
“Do you think you’re ill?” She touched a hand to his elbow. “We could send for Doctor Alcott.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass,” he said, though he was quite certain it would not. Perhaps not ever. “Shouldn’t you be off gossiping with your friends or setting your cap for some unsuspecting fellow?” After all, playing escort to his sister was exactly why he had a front row seat at these damned marriage mart events, watching Grace Post flirt with every eligible gentleman in the vicinity. If it wasn’t for his duties to Veronica, he’d have been quite happy to hie off to his club, climb into a bottle, and perhaps never climb back out.
His sister released what sounded like a rather annoyed sigh. “I do hope you’re not going to be this irritable all season long.”
“Yes, well, there’s a good chance I will be. So make haste in securing a match so I can be relieved of these escorting duties, will you?”
Veronica matched his scowl with one of her own and blew out another breath. “I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave.”
Wonderful. That would only be several torturous hours from now. Oliver turned his attention back to Grace, not that he wanted to, he just couldn’t seem to help himself. Her golden hair was pulled back from her face, threaded with little white roses and she looked like a goddess. An absolute goddess.
Grace giggled at something some fellow said, some fellow Oliver didn’t know, and he ground his teeth together once more. She never giggled with him…Well, at least she hadn’t for several years, not since the morning he’d explained why he couldn’t offer for her after he’d vowed that he would the night before.
“Prestwood!” Came a familiar joyful voice as a large hand clapped Oliver on the back.
“Quent!” He turned and smiled at Grace’s brother, his old neighbor, Lord Quentin Post, who had a beautiful brunette on his arm. “How are you, old man?”
Quent gestured to the lady on his arm and said, “You remember Lila, my wife?”
Oliver nodded. “Indeed. We met at Danby Castle over the holiday.”
“How nice to see you again,” Lila Post said softly.
“And you, my lady.” Then he glanced back at Quent and said, “I didn’t think you’d make it to Town this season.” He hadn’t thought Quent had plans to ever come back to Town at all. After marrying the past fall, his old neighbor had dropped completely out of society, preferring only to entertain his new bride in their formerly haunted castle.
“Braden stayed with Callie at Highfield to finish out her confinement. So he’s tasked me with keeping an eye on Hope and Grace this season.” Then he shrugged. “But it gives me the opportunity to show London off to Lila, so I shan’t complain.”
Oliver could complain enough for both of them. “I don’t suppose you’d mind keeping an eye on Veronica while you’re at it?”
An amused look flashed in Quent’s eyes. “Come now, I’ve had to endure this threefold, and I’m not done yet. You’ve only had to do it once.”
If Veronica’s intended had survived the damn war, Oliver wouldn’t have to do it now. “Once is plenty, I assure you.”
Quent laughed. “I don’t for one moment think Lady Veronica has given you the same sorts of headaches that Hope gave us last year.”
No, but watching Grace hunt for a husbandthisyear was giving Oliver a heartache he’d never recover from. “It was worth a shot.”
“Oh!” Lila Post smiled, glancing past Oliver. “There’s Grace. Doesn’t she seem to be enjoying herself?”
Grace’s facehurt from all of her false smiling, which was deucedly annoying as she’d always considered herself quite genuine and not some featherbrained ninny who laughed at gentlemen’s lackluster jokes and unamusing tales simply to garner their favor. She’d like nothing more than to tell the foppish Mr. Northam that not only did she not care how high the points were on his collar, but that only a foolish man would go around speaking about such nonsense in public. But doing that would only harm her ultimate goal. And though she had no interest in securing a match with that particular imbecile, she couldn’t afford to propagate her previously well-earned reputation of being a bit forthright. She might scare away some fellow whomightmake a decent husband in the process, and she couldn’t afford to do that. It was better to have many candidates to choose from rather than just a few.