My Cynical Marquess ~ Lords of Reluctance Book 1

Chapter Four

Lord Rutherford paced up and down his room, his anger still quite high since he spoke with his mother. She had never defied him like that, not since that girl had come at any rate. He was only doing what he thought was best for her. She looked to his concerned eyes, to be quite drawn and unwell. Surely, a house full of people would send her into a decline, which could not be good for her.

It had to be that rector's daughter, who had taken over his house as if she owned it, his mother would never have thought of holding a party herself. In addition, he did not miss the look of affection Porter had directed at Miss Preston. So, it turns out she has the servants wrapped securely around her finger, as well as his mother. He firmed his resolve to send the fortune hunter packing.

Finally ceasing his pacing, he allowed his valet to assist him to prepare for dinner. He would need all his strength to deal with that outspoken miss, if their last exchange had been anything to go by. He wanted to get there early so that he could put her on the back foot. The only way to deal with an opponent, and he classed her as a very dangerous opponent indeed. The fact she was extremely easy on the eye, he vigorously suppressed.

When Grace walked into the drawing room before dinner, she found that she was alone. Good, she got here before him, she thought with some degree of satisfaction. She would need every ounce of her resolve to convince him the party his mother had set her heart on was a good idea. How could he say she could not have one anyway? He never even saw his mother; she had to travel to London instead. If anything, that would tire her. Why did he think a party at her home would be overly strenuous? As far as Grace could tell, he did not care one bit about how his mother fared. That was something Grace intended to discuss with him. No matter how improper it seemed.

One glance in the looking glass placed above the mantle, told Grace she looked quite flustered, her cheeks a rosier pink than usual and she wore a very unbecoming scowl on her face. She would have to wipe that from existence if she had any chance of staying employed. With some effort, she succeeded in moving her eyebrows to their usual position, sat with her hands demurely placed in her lap, and waited for his lofty lordship to make an appearance.

"Good evening, Miss Preston," he greeted, striding into the drawing room.

Grace turned to look toward the door. If he looked handsome before, he looked downright striking now. He had changed out of his travelling clothes into a black tailcoat, white Marcella waistcoat embroidered with gold thread around the edges and black pantaloons. His black cravat tied into elegant simplicity by his valet. He went over to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine for himself and one for Grace. Although, why he would do such a thing puzzled Grace no end.

"Good evening, my lord," she replied, her face a picture of docility. Although, looks could be deceiving, she did not feel docile, she felt downright angry. "May I have a word with you?"

"I require a word with you also," he said, taking a seat opposite her and handing her a glass of wine.

Not waiting for him to start, she dove right in. "I saw your lovely mother after you left her," she said, her face not betraying her emotions in the slightest. "I do not think I need to tell you, she is very upset about having to cancel her party. A party she has her heart set on. How could you deny her that pleasure?"

"That is none of your concern," he replied calmly. "Not that it is any of your business, but I feel it may tire her unduly."

"What do you know about it?" she said, her temper flaring despite her effort to keep it under control. "You never come here to see her. Besides, that did not stop her from travelling to London to see you, if you cared if she tired or not, you would travel here to see her instead."