Her words drove any further questions from the children’s minds. They bounded off her bed and away to get dressed.
As Grace donned her ugliest dress and hid her hair beneath her most unflattering cap she recalled how pleasant it had been last evening to wear a becoming gown and to feel the breeze whisper through her curls. But after last night she would have to take special care to look as unattractive as possible so Rupert... Lord Steadwell would have no cause to suspect she might be the lady from the masquerade.
Still all the risk and the need for added caution would be worthwhile if their encounter had persuaded him that his heart was not as dead to romantic feelings as he tried to pretend. Grace hoped their conversation might make him reconsider the wisdom of settling for a marriage of mutual convenience.
She and the girls bolted a quick breakfast then set off to smuggle the pink gown back to its rightful resting place. Charlotte and Sophie went ahead to scout the route and warn their governess if anyone was coming. Phoebe was assigned to bring up the rear in case anyone approached from behind.
It turned out their carefully laid plans were not necessary. They reached the State Apartment without meeting a single soul. As Grace wrapped the pink gown back in its swath of linen, she fancied it let out a rustling sigh of satisfaction that it had been brought out one last time to be worn and admired.
“That was exciting,” Sophie announced as she skipped down the gallery on their way back to the nursery. “I wish we could do secret things like that more often.”
The child’s remark smote Grace with a pang of conscience. It was her job to bring up Sophie and her sisters as well-educated, accomplished young ladies of good character. Teaching them to sneak about, keeping secrets from their father hardly qualified as the latter.
Sophie’s skipping drowned out the sound of approaching footsteps until suddenly Lord Steadwell’s valet rounded the corner moving faster than Grace had ever seen him. He almost collided with the child, who sought refuge in Grace’s arms. They all started in a guilty fashion.
“I beg your pardon, ladies.” The valet seemed very flustered about something. “I did not expect to meet anyone in this part of the house. What are you doing here?”
Tempted as Grace was to resent his accusing tone, she had to admit the man had reason to be suspicious.
Phoebe came to the rescue. “Papa likes us to learn about our family history. All the oldest paintings are in these rooms.”
Both statements were perfectly true and the child had not actually claimed that was what they were doing. Still Grace felt she was setting a very poor example for her impressionable young pupils.
“Back to the nursery, girls.” She shooed them on their way then fixed the valet with a questioning gaze. “Is something the matter, Mr. Willis? You don’t seem quite yourself.”
“It’s the master who’s not himself,” muttered the valet, who was ordinarily the soul of discretion. “He’s in a foul humor this morning. If he wasn’t the most temperate gentleman I ever served, I would swear he was suffering from a bad morning after.”
“That does not sound like his lordship at all,” Grace agreed, trying not to show how much the news troubled her. “Perhaps he did not sleep well after all the excitement last evening.”
Mr. Willis did not look as though he gave her explanation much credence. “Lord Steadwell sent me to tell the cook we might have guests for dinner. Might, indeed! The cook will give me the sharp edge of her tongue over that, you may be certain.”
“Did his lordship say who might be dining with him?” Grace did not like the sound of his plans, tentative though they were.
“Mrs. Cadmore and her son, if the boy has recovered from whatever was ailing him,” Mr. Willis replied. “I’m to deliver the invitation to Dungrove as soon as I’ve spoken to the cook. If you’ll excuse me, I had better be on my way or he’ll have my head, the temper he’s in.”
“Yes, of course.” Grace was sorry to have detained the poor man, though she appreciated the information. If only she knew what it meant.
After the attention Rupert had shown her last night, why was he inviting Mrs. Cadmore to dine? Grace pondered that question as the valet hurried off. Had the baron meant nothing he’d said last night? Had he only been flirting with her from behind the safety of his mask?
No! Rupert Kendrick was not that kind of man—she would stake her life on it. But if he was sincere, how might he have reacted to her abrupt disappearance? Not knowing who she was, he could not begin to guess her motives for running off. Did he assume she had deserted him? Could that be what had put him in a foul mood this morning and perhaps driven him back to Mrs. Cadmore?
Just then Sophie appeared at the end of the gallery, her hands planted on her hips in a perfect imitation of the cook when she was vexed. “Aren’t you ever coming, Miss Ella?”
“Yes, of course, my dear.” Grace followed Sophie back to the nursery, her head spinning with worries and regrets.
“Gather your sketching boxes, girls,” she bid them. “Let us go outdoors and find some flowers to draw.”
She did not want the children making a racket that might disturb their father if he were trying to rest.
The air was warm, still and heavy when they ventured outside. A light haze veiled the sky. Though many garden plants were in bloom, Grace suggested they walk down the lane in search of wild flowers. The further they stayed from the house the better.
Just beyond the rows of linden trees the girls found plenty of scope for their artwork—daisies, betony, red campion and heartsease. They did some fine sketching and were just beginning to tire of it when Lord Benedict’s carriage turned down the lane and drew to a halt nearby.
Grace flew toward it, casting a guilty glance in the direction of the house. “Rebecca, how are you feeling today? I was sorry to hear you’d taken ill last night.”
Her friend waved away her concern, ever stoical as their time at the Pendergast School had taught her to be. “It was only a digestive upset, probably from eating richer food than I am used to. I felt so badly for leaving you behind. I was relieved to hear that you had the presence of mind to look for our carriage.”
“It was my own fault,” Grace assured her friend. “I should not have wandered off while you were dancing.”
“But you enjoyed yourself, I hope.” Rebecca searched Grace’s eyes for the truth. “You were by far the most beautiful lady at the masquerade. I overheard more than one gentleman asking who you might be.”