The Captain and the Wallflower. Lyn Stone
trepidation annoyed him. She was only a little bird of a girl after all, hardly anything to dread. If grief had stolen her reason, then he would restore it if he could, keep her comfortably if he could not. He would see that she was as happy as he could make her and as free as possible. She would know that she was cared for.
Caine postponed calling for her. The evening would be soon enough, he figured. He resumed working, poring over numbers in the earl’s accounts.
Late that afternoon, the butler interrupted the never-ending effort. “A Mr. Tinroy to see you, sir. He insists it is urgent.”
“Show him in,” Caine said, shuffling the paperwork into a neat stack and setting it aside, welcoming the intrusion, whatever it was. The visitor’s name was unfamiliar. Perhaps it was Wardfelton’s man.
“Thank you for seeing me, sir,” the spindly little fellow said after Jenkins had introduced him. Hat in hand, he stood before the huge oak desk like an errant schoolboy called up for an offense.
“What is this urgent business, Mr. Tinroy?” Caine demanded, the former commander in him responding naturally to the man’s subservient attitude.
“It concerns your betrothal,” the man said with a timid smile. “I should say, the original one made with Miss Thoren-Snipes.”
“Ah, a thing of the past then. What of it?” Caine replied, clasping his hands atop the desk and leaning forward.
“The thing is, she never officially ended it, sir. Her brother has retained me to speak on her behalf and tell you that, as a gentleman, you are obliged to carry through. He mentioned a breach-of-promise-suit if you prove unwilling.”
“So she would sue?” Caine almost groaned at the irony. “How can one be a gentleman, Mr. Tinroy, when he has been quite publicly declared a beast? Please inform your client that unless she wishes a countersuit for defamation of character, the matter is best considered closed.”
“Oh, sir, she meant no harm by her words. You know how young ladies natter on to one another when they are upset. But never did she cry off the engagement!”
No, she had screamed it off as far as Caine was concerned. He sighed, unclasped his hands and stood. “No contract was ever signed, because her brother originally opposed it. Of course, I was not heir to the title at that time. Perhaps that has inspired his sudden inclination to find me an acceptable match?”
Tinroy rolled his hat brim and tried a smile. “Oh, no, sir, not at all! It’s merely that the young lady has realized her foolishness and had a change of heart!”
“So have I,” Caine declared, rounding the desk and towering over the little toad. “Good day to you, Mr. Tinroy.”
He watched the solicitor back out at a near run. Caine felt like dusting his hands and hoped he never heard the name Thoren-Snipes again in his lifetime. Greedy buggers, the lot of them.
After a day fraught with confrontation, he knew he had one more to face before he could rest. Grace. Only, this meeting, of course, was to be more in the nature of an evaluation to see whether Wardfelton’s accusation held any semblance of truth.
He flagged a maid in the hallway and sent her up with a summons for Grace. They might as well meet here in the library. If she were a reader, they could discuss books. There, that was settled. He waited.
Grace appeared within five minutes, almost breathless as she entered the room. Had she taken the stairs at a run? Her hair was pulled back into a rather untidy bun at the nape of her neck and several strands had come undone. She raked them back with an impatient hand. “You wished to see me?” she asked with a nervous laugh.
“Yes, of course. Good evening, Grace,” he replied as he stood and surveyed the change in her. It was not so remarkable. She wore a plain gray long-sleeved dress, not a good color for her, but better than the yellow. It was a bit short and so large it hung rather loosely at the waist. He figured she must have borrowed it from one of the maids. In fact, she looked like a young maid on her first day of work, sans apron and reporting late.
He could not help comparing her looks to the stunning, yet shallow, beauty of Belinda. Somehow, even in her plainness and disarray, Grace did not seem wanting. Surface attraction held little appeal for him, especially now. Grace’s smile was sincere and she seemed honestly happy to see him. Lord, maybe that alone made her unhinged.
He smiled. “How was your day, my dear?”
She cocked her head and studied him for a minute, then seemed to form a conclusion. “Interesting, indeed. How was yours, Captain?”
Caine sensed she was really interested instead of just being polite. “Honestly? I have had better.” He indicated she should take one of the large wingback chairs beside the fire. He sat across from her in the other as he elaborated. “Business matters consumed me, being new to the chore of managing properties. I must have been born to soldier. That was never so difficult for me.”
“Ah, but you love a challenge,” she guessed with a sly grin that lighted her slender features.
“That’s true enough,” he agreed, noting that she had a foxlike manner, watchful, knowing, quick to respond. “Do you?”
She inclined her head and nodded once. “I suppose I do, come to think of it. We certainly took on this one without much hesitation, so it seems we have something in common from the start.”
“Apparently.”
The silence drew out between them. Caine wondered if there were any more to say. He had to think of something. “You seem quite … rested.” Truth was always appropriate. Her eyes were brighter, such a true, clear blue. Like a cloudless sky at its best. “I take it that you slept well?”
She sat back in the chair, perfectly relaxed, though her feet, clad in her soft yellow dancing slippers, didn’t quite touch the floor. She swung them idly as he watched. “Oh, yes, and I haven’t slept much of late, so that was a great relief. And the food here is remarkable!”
Ah, there was that prodigious interest in food again. “I shall commend the cook,” he promised. “Have you already eaten this evening?”
“An hour ago. You were busy and Mrs. Oliver said I shouldn’t wait for you. I understand your aunt takes a tray in the earl’s chambers early in the evening to keep him company.”
“Yes. We seldom dine together at table these days.” Caine felt guilty that she’d had to eat alone. He should have joined her. But she must grow used to his being absent, since he would have little time to entertain her in future.
He grew impatient to end the exchange that was beginning to seem forced. And yet, he needed to evaluate her condition. Nor did he want her to feel dismissed. Or lonely. She had probably had far too much time alone in Wardfelton’s care.
“I look forward to traveling to the country,” she declared with another bright smile. “It has been a while since I have been anywhere at all if one doesn’t count the trip from the manor to the house here in Town.” She leaned forward, her expression animated. “Do tell me about your estate, the one where we are to go.”
“Wildenhurst is not mine yet, though it is where I was born.” Immensely relieved to have a topic he could expand upon, Caine let himself meander back to childhood. “It’s the lesser of two properties owned by Hadley, the grander one being Hadley Grange, his seat near the Eastern Coast.”
“A grand mansion, or perhaps a castle?” Grace asked.
He answered absently, “A country house, quite impressive and easily thrice the size of Wildenhurst.”
“But what is Wildenhurst like? Has it a great history?”
“Well, I suppose it has that. The property was purchased by my great grandfather who had the house built directly over the site of an old monastery destroyed by King Henry. The stones lining the underground floor are still there. The rest is relatively new.”
“You