Page 78 of Lady Graceless
That she was not in agreement need not trouble him. She would set about doing what it was in her purview to do regarding Lord Dashlend’s comfort. He would hurry along his recovery once he experienced the meals he could enjoy in the Duke of Pelham’s household—salty porridge was suddenly on the menu. She would use the scratchiest sheets she could find for his bedding. In fact, she might get hold of some nettles and snip off little pieces on the bedding. She was certain there was more she could think of if she put her mind to it. If that lord had some idea of being waited on hand and foot and coddled, he had another thing coming.
The faster Lord Dashlend was out of this house, the faster her Grace could regain her spirits.
Mrs. Right rose. “Now then, off to bed with all of you. It is late and do not follow Grace into her room—she will need her rest after this night’s adventure.”
Grace nodded gratefully and the poor girl really did look worn out. The rest of her girls nodded, though not very enthusiastically. Mrs. Right was certain they’d have been willing to stay up all night discussing the fire at the ball and the gentleman just now relocated into their household.
She knew what was best, though. Particularly for Valor, who was so tired she’d got that look on her face as if she might hysterically laugh or hysterically cry, or both at once.
As for herself, she would see Valor settled and then have her usual glass of brandy with the duke. She suspected there were more details he had not shared with his youngest daughters.
Chapter Nineteen
GRACE DID NOTknow how she managed to fall asleep, nor sleep so soundly. Though, she suspected the rather large glass of sherry Mrs. Right had urged her to drink, along with her nerves being exhausted, had certainly helped.
Everything that had happened replayed in her mind over and over again. Particularly, the ride in the cart. Clearly the jostling of the moving conveyance caused Lord Dashlend pain. She’d hardly known what to do about it. He would wince and she would grasp his hand. Then she would realize the impropriety of it and let it go. Then it would happen all over again.
His hand was large and firm and warm. She’d not wished to give it up, but she must. His was not her hand to hold and she could see very well the looks she received from the coachmen and grooms who followed on horseback.
This morning, she and her sisters had spent breakfast glancing up at the ceiling. Their father was up there with Lord Dashlend and the physician.
It was so odd to know that Lord Dashlend was in the house. What was he thinking?
She supposed she could guess at what he was thinking. His injuries were to be laid at her door, it had been all her fault. She’d gone off alone to jump around and then managed to start a fire through her clumsiness.
Grace could not imagine who locked her in there, but she had begun to think that perhaps the person had only noted the flames and not herself and sought to contain it. She did not see how anybody could have missed her, as it had been she knocking over the candelabra, or why the door must be locked and not just closed. But what other explanation could there be?
They had all gone to the drawing room after breakfast and continued on with glancing at the ceiling. They did it so often that Nelson began looking there too.
There had been a prior plan of going to the park but that had been called off. They would stay where they were, just looking at the ceiling.
Thomas opened the drawing room doors and said, “Lady Margaret Hawley, Lady Valor’s particular friend.”
Valor clapped and said, “Well done, Thomas.” To Grace she said, “I told Thomas to always introduce Lady Margaret as my particular friend. Because she is my particular friend. We have a correspondence. Between two ladies.”
Lady Margaret came through, her skirts wider than ever. Her signature ostrich feathers had seen an improvement though—the ones she wore today seemed new and not molting like the ones she’d previously displayed.
“What a night. Lady Grace, you are unhurt?”
“I am very well, thank you, Lady Margaret. Thomas? A tea tray, if you will.”
As Thomas hurried off, Lady Margaret hurried forward.
“Sit next to me and Nelson, Lady Margaret,” Valor said.
“Of course, my little friend,” the lady said, taking her seat.
“See?” Valor said. “We are particular friends.”
“I understand Dashlend is here?” Lady Margaret asked, nodding at Valor to confirm the idea.
Grace said that he was, and they all glanced at the ceiling again. Nelson, hearing Lord Dashlend’s name, gave a little snarl.
Lady Margaret glanced down at the dog in alarm, but then Nelson wagged his tail. “What is my dear relation’s condition? Has he regained consciousness? Will he recover?”
“We have been told he never lost consciousness,” Grace said. “He was fully conscious when last I saw him. The physician says he will recover, though it might take time. He’s broken some ribs and has a badly sprained ankle.”
“And he got a knock on the head,” Valor added.
