Page 41 of The Sprinter
It seemed far too outrageous to contemplate, but it appeared Lord Gresham was attempting to discourage dance partners by telling all and sundry she’d injured herself.Thatwas why Lord Ryland had commented on her walking. Of all the highhandedness!
Grace willed herself to remain composed. She said, “My ankle is perfectly recovered, Mr. Vance.”
*
George had consideredhis plan well thought out. The gentlemen most likely to pursue Miss Yardley must just be turned from it. That would leave behind all the popinjays, fat widowers, and striplings just out of the schoolroom. Miss Yardley would be in no danger with that selection of jesters on her card.
How did one do that at a ball? Well, simply judiciously put it about that the lady was not inclined to dance. She was injured. Not seriously, just enough to take dancing off the table.
Was not a turning of an ankle a particularly common complaint in females? How many times had he been walking by the side of a lady when quite out of the blue she turned an ankle and then needed his arm to reach her destination? Really, it seemed to happen near constantly.
As to what he might say to these turned away gentlemen when it became all too apparent that Miss Yardley was perfectly capable of dancing? And that he himself had put his name down on her card though it was he that said she could not dance?
A sudden recovery. That was also terribly common. He’d noticed that, when he’d got an injured lady to her destination, she was often able to walk unassisted again. As if nothing at all had occurred.
But what was happening now? He’d warned Vance off and yet Vance had flown to her side before George had even seen her come into the ballroom. Now, there were others—Blackwood, Bertridge, even Ryland had left the door to go to her, and a few others he did not deem suitable for this moment in Miss Yardley’s history.
It was as if he’d not said anything at all!
George hurried across the floor, practically knocking over Lady Easton as he went. He muscled Blackwood out of the way.
“Miss Yardley,” he said, working not to sound breathless from his sprint. He held out his hand for her card.
She regarded him silently for a moment. George almost got the idea that she would not hand it over. He also got a sinking feeling that one of these scoundrels had mentioned thathehad mentioned she could not dance.
She finally did hand it over and George was perturbed to see that supper, and the first, had already been taken. What was Vance thinking of, taking Miss Yardley into supper? Why had his aunt even allowed it? Lady Heathway did not entirely approve of Mr. Vance.
George wrote his name down for the third, all the while conscious of her stare. It was not a friendly stare.
She was all composure, but decidedly unfriendly.
He bowed and walked off. At least, he hoped he walked off—he rather felt as if he might have slinked off.
He would need time to think. Did she know? Or was she staring for some other reason? If she did know, what should he say about it?
George knew well enough he could not say the truth. That he was not ready to declare himself but did not want anybody else declaring while he was thinking about it. That was what the second season was for. It was an excellent plan, if only everybody would cooperate with it!
*
Grace had hesitatedwhen Lord Gresham had approached her for a dance. What did he mean by it? Had not his aim been to see her sitting out, ignored because she had supposedly hurt her ankle?
She had never twisted her ankle in her life and very much doubted it was a thing easily done. Fortunately, there had been enough pleasant gentlemen who dared find out if she was indeed too injured to dance.
She had almost refused to hand over her card to Lord Gresham. But then, he had looked so uncomfortable under her stare. Which she found she enjoyed. She decided he might have a taste of Yardley medicine—she would be all composure.
The first set had been taken by Lord Blackwood and his conversation proved more entertaining than it had been in her prior experience. He usually spoke of his horses, which was not all that interesting. But he’d recently got a Danish boarhound puppy who was running roughshod over his household. The naughty thing growled at the servants as if he were seeing them for the first time every time, he had a penchant for destroying shoes and boots, he invaded the kitchens and growled at the counters because he could not reach what was on them, and he insisted on sleeping in the lord’s bed. Lord Blackwood did not know what he was to do when the thing grew full size and he was very much afraid he would be forced to give over his bedchamber to the beast. Apollo, and Grace nearly laughed at hearing such a name for such a ridiculous creature, only took directions from his butler. Lord Blackwood could not yet divine how Mr. Sindu did it. For all that, he was rather besotted with the creature.
They went on to have a lively conversation about childhood dogs and Grace told him the story of Petal—a bulldog who used to push stools and chairs near one another to form a ladder to whatever she was intent on getting to. She was always exhausted when she reached her destination, and then depressed if there were nothing of interest. Her father used to say it was the only exercise she got so they’d better allow her to get on with it.
Lord Bertridge had taken her second set, and he was pleasant, as he always was. Of the more interesting things he communicated was that he had been at the table when Lady Langley, then Miss Wilcox, had solved the mystery the year before. He still could not account for how she did it, as he had been entirely convinced the guilty party had been somebody else.
Finally, and it did feel like finally as Grace experienced some trepidation over it, Lord Gresham came to collect her.
She really wished he did not look quite as handsome as he did. Always, he made her heart speed up, and that she could not help.
How odd, to like someone and not like them at the same time. To feel what seemed like a deep attraction or affection or something for a person, but also a near-rage at them.
She must disregard her feelings though. She must remember that Lord Gresham worked against her. Twenty years from now it would not matter in the least how attracted she’d ever been to him now. She’d either be living comfortably, watching her children make their way in the world, or she’d be alone in the dower house or possibly not even welcome to livethere, cursing herself for a fool.
