A Lesson in Pride (11 page)

Without looking up from his work, Bedford motioned for his son to sit in one of the small chairs that flanked his large desk. The set-up of his office was a study in power. Bedford sat in a large chair behind a large desk, leaving only smaller pieces of furniture for his guests. It was like standing before St. Peter at the gates of heaven, hoping to be recognized and given entry. For all his well-placed furniture, Grant knew his father was no god and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of treating him as such.

“Where have you been all this time?” his father said off-handedly, still not looking up.

“I was invited to several house parties over the holidays. I was most recently at Lady Emerson's estate.” Short and sweet was the best way to answer Bedford.

“Lady Emerson, huh? Whatever would she want with you?” Finally, Bedford looked up, if only to reinforce his sarcasm.

Grant remained silent, just as his father intended. They both knew that Grant was a favorite among the less happily married in the ton, which was just about everyone. Instead, Grant cocked his head to the side in a quizzical stance.

“You are wondering why I summoned you. There is no point in beating around the bush. Your sister-in-law is with child again. There is every chance that it is a boy and you will be cut off.”

With the power of ten men, Grant remained stoic. They played this game every time Alexandra became pregnant. His father was certain that the odds favored a boy this time. Itching to prove him wrong, Grant still did not mention how Franklin Drake had managed to have seven girls. All he could do was wait the allotted time to see if he would indeed be cut off.

When he remained silent, Bedford continued. “I think it is time you found a more permanent situation. There are many rich cits out there dying to marry their daughters off to some gentry. Is it not time for you to consider that?”

Grant spoke honestly when he stated, “I have, Father.”

“I can give you a list of the best choices. The girls are not much to look at, but once you do your duty, you need never bother with them again.”

And there it was in a nutshell. His father's pragmatic approach to a wife and family. A man only had to put up with his wife for the time it took to produce a son. There was no need for affection or love. The cold, hard truth was that any woman he married would be a means to an end. She would gain entry to society, and he would never again have to worry about how to pay his tailor. In his father's eyes, it was a definite win-win.

Yet, there was a reason why Grant had not married so far. He might use women for profit and pleasure, but he never let them think his affections went beyond that. It turned his stomach to think of using another human being in such a way. If only he could find a girl who would be content with such a situation. A girl who would be content with a part-time husband. He doubted such a girl existed.

Wanting to end the audience as soon as possible, Grant said, “Thank you, Father. I would appreciate your insight.”

A half-smile graced the duke's lips, making the man look more animal than human. “I bet you would. What you most like is to be my heir, but Reggie came first. He will soon provide me with a grandson and the line will continue.”

Releasing his breath, Grant asked, “Is that all, Father? I am expected elsewhere today.”

Snorting his disbelief, Bedford waved his hand in dismissal. Rising from the chair, Grant took his leave without another word. As he approached the front door, Jennings was waiting with his coat and hat. Neither man exchanged a word, and Grant was soon out the door. The whole meeting took less than fifteen minutes.

Making his way back to his apartment, Grant thought about what his father had said. It was time for him to take a wife. It was time to give up his freedom to obtain some security. He had little chance of capturing an heiress from among society. No father would allow his daughter to marry a penniless second son, especially knowing how tight-fisted Bedford was. No, he would have to find a social-climbing cit to sell his daughter for the chance to hobnob with the ton.

He would await his father's list and see what the old man came up with. Surely there would be at least one girl that he wouldn't object to marrying. There would have to be one girl that he could stomach living out his life with, even after a son was produced. Grant certainly hoped so, though in his heart, he seriously doubted it.

********

Instead of going back to his own home, Grant walked to Drake's townhouse. It was too early to make calls, but he thought that Alysanne would welcome him in all the same. As he knocked on the door, excitement filled him. It had been too long since he'd seen the only girl he'd deflowered.

The Drake butler answered the door with all the air of the best butlers of London. Giving away nothing, the man asked, “May I help you?”

Pulling out his card, Grant handed it to the butler. “I am here to see Lady Essex.”

The stoic man examined his card in great detail. Moving aside, he allowed Grant access to the foyer. After he closed the door behind Grant, the butler spoke again.

“Yes, Lord Grant, I remember you from Lady Essex's wedding. I am afraid she is not home at the moment. She is presenting Lady Charlotte and Lady Hope Drake to the queen.”

“When do you expect them home?” Grant asked, trying to remain impassive.

“Not before four o'clock, my lord.”

“Please let Lady Essex know that I have stopped by. If she could send me a note of a more convenient time for us to meet, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course, my lord.” With that, the butler opened the door and escorted him out.

Grant began his long walk home. It was turning out not to be his day. Hopefully, Alysanne would contact him soon.

Chapter 13

The ladies arrived home just before four o'clock. Ginny ushered the girls upstairs to change out of their large gowns and ordered that tea be served in an hour. As Hope had predicted, nothing had happened during their presentation. They barely spoke above three words to the queen. They were ushered out as soon as their turn was done. They had waited around for hours to be released. All three agreed it was nice to be home.

The three entered the small parlor in the back of the house at much the same time. It was Hope's turn to serve, so Charlotte and Ginny took their seats and made themselves comfortable. After being served, all three fell into a companionable silence.

Mr. Frommer entered a few minutes later with the news that Ginny had been waiting over two weeks to hear.

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but you had a visitor earlier. Here is his card,” Frommer said while handing her a small, white card on a silver tray.

Ginny reached for it and examined it closely. There it was, in plain black and white. Lord Grant Montgomery. Ginny worked hard not to give anything away on her face, but still she could feel the blush rising from her neck.

“Thank you, Mr. Frommer. Did he say anything in particular?” There, her voice hardly squeaked at all.

“Yes, my lady. He asked for you to contact him with a more convenient time for a meeting.”

“Thank you,” Ginny nodded, and the servant left. Before she could tuck the card away, Hope reached over and grabbed it.

“Who, pray tell, is Lord Grant Montgomery?”

Before Ginny could answer, Charlotte asked, “Why is a man coming to call on you, Ally?”

Taking a deep breath, Ginny responded, “He is an old friend of my father's. He attended my wedding. I sent him a note asking him to tea so we could catch up, but he hadn't responded before today.”

Hope and Charlotte exchanged a confused look. Hope asked, “A friend of your father's?”

“Yes. I've known him since I was ten years old.”

Charlotte perked up. “You must invite him to dine with us this evening. He may be a man of information. At the very least, he could give us some advice about London.”

Hope rolled her eyes. “Dining with some stodgy, old man is not my idea of a well-spent evening. But as he is an old friend, I will make an exception.”

Ginny was about to correct Hope on the “stodgy, old man” reference, but decided not to. Instead, she said, “I think it's a good idea to invite him to dine with us. Charlotte, you are correct. Lord Grant is a great source of information.”

“You must write to him immediately. Before he can make any other plans.”

“Indeed.”

Chapter 14

Grant was nervous. Never in his life had he been nervous about having dinner with anyone, let alone an old friend. Yet, here he stood just outside her door, hand up to knock. His stomach was alive with movements, as though a small cache of mice had moved in and made their home inside. What did he have to be anxious over? She was the same girl he'd known most of her life. She was the quiet, shy, little thing with pigtails.

Though she was the girl he'd known for so long, she was also the woman he'd taken to bed on her wedding night over a year earlier. The woman who had responded to his touch with genuine enthusiasm, not because of his looks or position. The woman who would probably allow him into her bed again if given any encouragement.

But that was not something he could entertain. Bedford had sent over his list later that day. On it were any number of wealthy, young heiresses with questionable pedigrees, but a willingness to exchange coin for prestige. Grant was just the right amount of pedigree, good looks, and societal position for any girl. He was also penniless and desperate, which was exactly what any rich entrepreneur sought for his young daughter.

After examining his list, Grant had narrowed the choices down to a few. The few he'd picked were the only ones he recognized really. The rest he'd never heard of or had dealings with. If the few he knew didn't pan out, he would seek out the rest. In a list of twenty girls, there had to be one acceptable match.

Regardless, he would not take up with Alysanne when he knew he needed to marry a wealthy heiress. Alysanne meant too much to him to hurt her, even if she did understand the game. Most of his lovers were seasoned, married women who sought a little comfort in the arms of a man who knew something about pleasing them. In other words, something their husbands never gave them. Most were well aware that the affair would end, and it was usually ended by Grant.

Sensing something from Alysanne the night of their rendezvous, Grant knew of her naiveté. The last thing he wanted was to make her fall in love with him when he had nothing to offer her in return. He had no marketable skills above being a rich man's son, which had sufficed in the past, but with his brother's coming child, would not work for much longer. His brother's newest child was almost certainly a boy, leaving him redundant. After his meeting with his father, Grant sensed the old man's desire to be rid of him.

Before he knew himself, his fist came down on the door. It was cold outside and he longed to see how Alysanne was doing. The door opened to a brightly lit foyer. This time, he was allowed entry with no fuss, his coat and hat taken immediately.

The butler bowed. “Good evening, my lord. The ladies are in the parlor. Allow me to announce you.”

Grant nodded and took a deep breath. Walking directly behind the old butler, Grant prepared himself for this first meeting in so long.

“Lord Grant Montgomery,” the butler announced, stepping aside to allow him entrance to the parlor. There she was, standing by the fireplace, glass of wine in her hand, looking more lovely than she had just twelve months prior. Working hard, Grant gave his coy smile and walked toward his ex-friend's daughter with all the dignity of the king.

“My God, Alysanne, you look lovely,” he said, reaching for her hand and kissing the back of her gloved fingers.

Before he could look into her eyes, Grant heard a couple of giggles from behind him. Turning to see the commotion, he saw two young ladies, no older than Alysanne, sitting on a settee that he had passed by without even noticing them. To cover up his rudeness, he presented the girls with the smile that made every woman swoon.

“Good evening, ladies. How did I not notice you there?”

********

Hope spoke first, giving Ginny time to recover from Grant's entrance. The way he'd made a beeline to her spoke volumes. The man had to know that they were meant for each other or he would never had been so rude as to completely ignore her stepdaughters. As he kissed her hand, she thought she might pass out cold. All the anxiety of waiting all day for his return came crashing down on her.

“You were so consumed with greeting our stepmother that you could not be bothered with anything else.”

Wagging his finger at Hope, Grant responded, “It is very unladylike to point out my shortcomings so soon in the evening. There will be plenty of time for that after dinner.”

Charlotte and Hope giggled again, which was just enough to pull Ginny out of her stupor. What she really wanted was a bucket of water poured over her head. Grant was handsome, sure, but she should have better control over herself than this. Damn Alysanne for rearing her ugly head once again.

“Grant, allow me to introduce my stepdaughters, Miss Charlotte and Miss Hope Drake.” Walking to come to his side, Ginny smiled up at Grant and stated, “Ladies, this is Lord Grant Montgomery.”