“Capital.” He offered her his hand and they hurried to take their places as the music commenced.
Until now the musicians had played brisk, lively tunes, well suited to the high spirits of the guests and the rustic setting. But the melody for this dance was slower with a faintly wistful air. The steps were an easy succession of siding, back to back and turning, with the head couple gradually moving down the line of dancers. Grace particularly enjoyed the turn, when she and Rupert joined hands and circled with a skipping step. Every time they came to that figure, her heart seemed to skip along with her feet. When the music faded at last, she made her final curtsy with a pang of regret that it could not have gone on longer.
At that moment Mrs. Cadmore and the admiral passed by conversing in a flirtatious tone. Rupert’s smile faltered and he excused himself abruptly to seek out the next partner on his duty list. Grace was soon besieged with invitations but declined them all with the excuse that she must keep watch on the girls, all three of whom were enjoying the festivities immensely.
Sophie raced around the edge of the dance floor in some sort of game with a few of the tenants’ children. Meanwhile Charlotte was dancing with Henry Cadmore and Phoebe with her old nemesis, Peter the stable boy. As she watched them, Grace sipped cider and tapped her toes to the music, often scanning the crowd for a glimpse of their father. All evening the baron kept up a convivial facade. But every now and then his crisp features would settle into an expression of restless sadness. Whenever she glimpsed that look, it brought Grace a sharp pang.
As the evening wore on, Sophie came and snuggled on Grace’s lap. Later Phoebe sat down beside them.
“I believe Sophie has gone to sleep, Miss Ella.” The child yawned and rested her head against Grace’s arm.
“So she has,” Grace murmured. “And so will you soon, I expect. I wish I’d thought to take her back to the nursery while she was capable of walking on her own. She is too heavy for me to carry all that way but I fear she will put up a fuss if I wake her now.”
“Give her to me, then.”
Grace started when the children’s father appeared, as if summoned by her need for assistance. A sleepy-looking Charlotte followed him.
“I know it is far past their bedtime,” he continued in an apologetic tone, holding out his arms to receive his youngest daughter. “But they all seemed to be enjoying themselves so much.”
“An occasional late night should not do the girls any harm.” Grace hoisted Sophie into her father’s arms with a faint pang of envy. How pleasant it must be to rest safe in his strong arms, head lolling against his broad shoulder. “I shall let them sleep in tomorrow morning.”
“Come then, girls.” Rupert glanced at Charlotte and Phoebe and nodded toward the door. “Before you two fall asleep as well.”
To Grace’s surprise neither of them protested but followed along on either side of her, yawning now and then. Once they reached the nursery, all three were tucked up and asleep in no time.
“I should get back to the party,” Rupert made a vague gesture in that direction, “to bid my guests good-night.”
The guard on Grace’s tongue seemed to have fallen asleep along with the children. “Before you go, sir, there is just one thing, if I may.”
She must speak now, while they had a moment of privacy, a rare occurrence of late. Besides, if she waited any longer, Grace feared her feelings for him would grow too deep to let her say what she must.
“I should not linger.” He seemed uncomfortable in her presence and eager to escape, yet he responded to her beseeching look. “Go on then. What is it?”
Grace steeled herself and plunged ahead. “Sir, I could not help noticing that you seem... unhappy of late. I know it is not my place but I beg you to tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help.”
“You are mistaken, Miss Ellerby.” He backed away from her shaking his head. “I assure you I am quite... content.”
Before he could make his escape, Grace tried again. “So you say, but your tone contradicts you. Sir, I promised I would be honest with you. Pray do me that same courtesy.”
He froze as if pulled in two different directions at once by equally strong forces. His tongue seemed paralyzed too.
“Is it Mrs. Cadmore?” Grace prompted him. “Was I mistaken about your feelings for her? Do you care for her more than you realized? Do you pine for her company and wish I had not forced you to give up your marriage plans?”
Rupert seemed to be trying to muster a reply he could not yet manage. Perhaps he needed to know her thoughts in the matter.
“If that is the case, I am very sorry to have come between you.” Grace struggled to keep her voice low so as not to disturb the children, while still infusing it with sincere conviction and concern for him. “Perhaps it is not too late. If you want to ask Mrs. Cadmore for her hand, I will do everything in my power to persuade the girls to accept her. It was wrong of me to do otherwise!”
The tension within Rupert seemed to break under pressure like a bow string suddenly released.
“I don’t care for her!” The words erupted from his lips as if propelled by a force much greater than his will—a force that his will had perhaps struggled to contain. “I care for you, Grace Ellerby!”
His abrupt, unexpected declaration made Grace’s heart bound in a mixture of elation and disbelief. At the same time, past experience made her shrink from his fierce tone.
Chapter Sixteen
HE SHOULD HAVE held his tongue and kept his feelings to himself as he’d promised Grace he would.
Rupert’s spirits plummeted as he watched the woman he cared for cower from him. He had tried so hard these past weeks to resist his growing feelings for her. When that became impossible he had hidden them instead, which proved equally difficult.
This evening had been worse than ever, for it reminded him of the one they had shared at Lady Maidenhead’s masquerade. In so many ways his harvest feast was better. At the masquerade ranks and titles had been concealed but taken for granted. Tonight they were acknowledged but set aside as everyone celebrated the harvest that crowned a year of common endeavor. On such an evening, the master of Nethercross might dance with a farmer’s wife or his daughters’ governess and no one would think it amiss.
No doubt he should have resisted the temptation to dance with Grace Ellerby. But seeing Mrs. Cadmore and her new beau so happy together had eroded his resolve. Their dance had brought so many buried emotions closer to the surface. Then when they’d brought his daughters back to the nursery and put them to bed, Rupert could not escape the overwhelming sense that they were a family... or should be.