“Apologies,” he muttered, and as he took a step away from Grace the warmth at her back faded away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“There are a number of things you shouldn’t have done,” she said tartly, hoping the tone in her voice would keep him from doing the same anytime soon. “If you’ll excuse me, I promised the next dance to Lord Deuxhill.”
Chapter 3
“If you’re goingto be in such a rotten mood,” Veronica complained across the breakfast table, “you should just return to Prestwood Place and let me finish out the season with Mama.”
Oliver snorted. He ought to do that very thing. Mama tired easily these days and then Veronica would only attend a fraction of the events she’d want to attend. “I’m not certain when you got it into your head that I answered to you, Veronica. Take that tone with me again, and your season will come to a rather quick end.”
His sister huffed and leaned back against her chair. “You never used to be grumpy. You’re starting to remind me of Papa.”
That was the unkindest thing his sister had ever said to him. She might as well have slapped him across the face. “Well, bring some fellow up to scratch quickly, and you can move from my home into his and be done with me.”
Honestly, Oliver shouldn’t have even had to deal with Veronica and her season. Their father had been ever vigilant in securing advantageous matches for each of his children years ago, and damn him for that. But when Lieutenant Charles Marsh, heir to the Creswell title, had fallen atQuatre Bras,Veronica had been given the only thing Oliver and Genevieve had not – some say in what her future held.
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Veronica shook her head and her dark curls bounced with the movement. “You’re not yourself at all. Are you certain there’s no need to send for Doctor Alcott?”
Unless the man could give Oliver some concoction that would make him stop loving Grace Post or make him forget he’d ever met her, then there was nothing Doctor Alcott could offer that would do Oliver one bit of good. “I will try to be myself tonight, dearest, all right?”
Veronica nodded, but there was a skeptical look in her eye. And she had every right to wear that look. Oliver was skeptical too. There was, after all, only so much he could bear, watching other men pay court to Grace when he could not.
Their butler cleared his throat from the threshold, thankfully pulling Oliver’s attention away from himself.
“Yes, Stanley?” He glanced toward their faithful servant, who seemed to have lost all the color in his face. Dear God, what was wrong?
“My lord, one of Lord Grasmere’s men just arrived.”
From Westmorland?
Veronica sucked in a breath. “The baby! Is Ginny all right?”
The butler frowned. “It seems there was an accident andLordGrasmere has passed away but—”
Oh, dear God! “ButLadyGrasmere?” Oliver leapt to his feet. His sister still had a couple months left before her babe came into the world. What the devil had happened in the north?
“Her man assures me, her ladyship is still among the living, but…”
“But what?” Veronica stumbled to her own feet.
“Swale believes you should come at once, sir.”
“Yes, of course.” Oliver started from the breakfast room. “Have Dobson prepare the traveling coach and Folley prepare my things.”
“I’m coming too!” Veronica said from behind him. “And you know Mama will want to be there.”
Oliver raked a hand through his hair. She was right. Mama would insist on being at Ginny’s side. And perhaps she and Veronica could keep Ginny calm and her spirits up. “Do be quick, then.”
He glanced once more at his butler. “Where is Grasmere’s man, Stanley?”
“I’ll bring him right away to your study, sir.”
Oliver had barely dropped into his overstuffed leather chair behind his desk when a young man in Grasmere blue and silver livery stepped over his threshold, Stanley at his back.
“This is Benjy, my lord.”
“Benjy.” Oliver gestured the lad into his study.
“Folley is preparing your bags,” his butler continued. “And Peggy is doing the same for Lady Prestwood and Lady Veronica.”