“I’m attending Lady Sheldon’s dinner party tonight. I am going with a friend, Lady Taddlesworth, who is also acting as a chaperone for the girls. It would please me to have you escort us.”
“Olivia and Ellie dislike her.”
“She can be harsh in her opinions, but she is highly respected, a paragon of Society, and a friend of the patronesses of Almack’s. A good word from her will ensure Ellie a coveted voucher.”
“You don’t need her. You are capable.”
“No. I haven’t been myself since your brother’s death. I want to go to Bath.”
“Why? Are you ill?”
“I suffer no physical ailments but rather a melancholy. I want to visit my sister, your aunt, Lady James. I need to be sure the girls will be looked after. If you escort Lady Taddlesworth and me to tonight’s ball, it will be another step toward ensuring Ellie’s future.”
“No.”
Her spine stiffened another inch. “Why?”
“I haven’t attended a dinner party in quite some time, remember?” How much to tell? “I must refresh my manners. In fact, I have engaged someone to assist me in this.”
His mother sat forward in her seat, her gaze glinting with interest. “Someone is aiding you?”
He eyed her warily. “Informally.”
“Have you sought out Lord Winton? He is a longtime family friend.”
“I cannot say.”
An image of Grace returned to his him. Lovely and pure. Far from the elderly Lord Winton. She had agreed to tutor him. No, he had blackmailed her into agreeing, but she’d agreed nonetheless. He was determined to keep his distance, no matter how tempting he found her. It was the least he could do, not for his mother, but for his sisters. He’d escort Ellie to her debut and dance with her at her ball, and no one would have a reason to whisper.
Then he’d return to his club.
His mother regarded him, seeming uncertain what to make of these turn of events, but then she nodded. “If Lord Winton is helping you, please give him my regards.”
He made to rise and she placed a hand on his arm. “One more item. Your brother resided here. I wish you to as well.”
His lips thinned. “I have my own residence now.”
“After I leave, I need to know that your sisters will be looked after in my absence.”
“Of course, I will. But what about Ellie’s presentation at court?” Ian asked.
“That is not until next year. I will come back for her presentation, then return to the country.”
Ian recognized a trap when he saw one. Assuming the title was one thing. Living in this house was another entirely.
Chapter Eight
The carriage waited that night. After Ian’s kiss on their first encounter, Grace considered not going, but sending a note reneging on their bargain. In the end, she went—not because her father had once again stayed out late gambling, but because she had given her word and she prided herself on never breaking a promise. And she needed what Ian had offered.
Don’t think about his kiss.
The coachman nodded in greeting and lowered the step as she approached. Grace took a breath and stepped inside. Her muscles tightened in anticipation of encountering Ian sitting in the carriage.
The seat was empty.
He hadn’t bothered to escort her tonight. An unexpected stab of disappointment pierced her, but she pushed it aside. It was for the best. The less time she spent alone with Ian the better. She clutched the sheets of foolscap on her lap. She had come prepared tonight, having drafted a list of tasks that she wanted to accomplish.
She’d keep to the business arrangement between them. Never mention their shared kiss, no matter how many times she thought of it. He had no need to know how it had affected her, and she was determined not to allow him liberties again.
The coach came to a stop. The driver opened the door and helped her alight. She pulled her hood forward to cover her hair, then made her way to the servant’s entrance and climbed the steps. Before she reached the top step, the door opened to reveal Ian waiting for her. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his broad chest. He was dressed in shirt and trousers. He desperately needed the services of a valet. His dark hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, and his full lips curled in a wicked smile.
Goodness. He was all lean muscle and coiled tension, and she had never seen such a masculine specimen.
“You’re late.”
She wrinkled her nose at his tone. “I had to wait for the household to sleep.”
He took her arm and guided her inside. “And your father?”
Her senses heightened at his touch and nearness. “Is out.”
“I assure you, he’s not at the Raven Club. His table remains closed.”
“Thank you.” She looked away and bit her lower lip.
“Don’t fret. I sent Soot to find him.”
She turned back to him. “Soot?”
“A street waif I took under my wing. One of my most trusted employees. He has a knack for finding people and following them. Your father is at the Dolly Club.”
She’d heard the name before when the baron had returned home intoxicated and had passed out on the parlor settee. He’d mumbled the name, and Grace has learned it was one of the worst gambling hells in Pall Mall.
“The owner of the Dolly knows me. I sent a note to the man to turn the baron away before he begins to lose.”
She blinked in surprise. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I know how it bothers you. And because I don’t want you indebted to another club owner. You need to focus on my lessons.”
Oh my. The way he said to focus on him made her heart race.
“Come.” He took her elbow and shut the door. She followed him upstairs to the library.
She seated herself in the same leather chair by the fireplace that she’d chosen on her first night here. Ian selected a chair across from her and stretched his long legs.
Straightening her spine, she clutched her reticule in her lap. She was determined that tonight would end differently from her first encounter with Ian in this room. Clearing her throat, she withdrew her notes from her reticule and handed them to him. “You’ll see I have made a list of tasks we must accomplish before you accept any invitations.”
Ian unfolded the foolscap. “Dressing. Servants. Dining. Proper address of peers. Dancing.” He looked up and arched a dark eyebrow. “Is that all?”
She shook her head. “No. Other topics are sure to arise. But we must start with these as they are crucial.”
“You’re much more organized tonight.”
“I didn’t know what to expect the first time. Now I know it’s best to avoid…to avoid distractions.” She was thinking of the kiss, and from the arrogant look on his face, she knew he was, too.
He stared at her. He didn’t intimidate her; rather, he looked almost humorous. “You mean our kiss?”
She frowned. “We shouldn’t speak of it. I’ve already forgotten it.”
“Forgotten it?”
“Yes.”
He touched a hand to his heart. “You wound me. The truth is, I’ve thought of little else.”
Really? The notion that the owner of the Raven Club, the new Earl of Castleton, had thought of their kiss made her stare at him in astonishment. It also made her stomach flutter.