A Talent for Trouble (23 page)

“Do you really believe she still holds Reverend Fraser in high regard?” Grayson couldn't resist asking.

“I do, but not in a romantic way.” Ruth surprised him when she smiled. “If you ask me, she never actually loved the gentleman. She loved the
idea
of loving him and embracing the role of his wife. She was completely mistaken, of course, and would not have been happy spending her life so demurely, but that's neither here nor there. We need to go find her.”

For some odd reason, he had the distinct feeling he was being deftly maneuvered by a master manipulator.

He dug in his heels. “How exactly do you expect me to distract
her from this reverend? And don't tell me to simply be charming, because that's a little vague.”

Ruth's eyes turned calculating in a split second. “You could always bring up the subject I heard you and Piper were discussing.”

He was definitely going to have a firm talk with Piper concerning what she should and should not disclose to people.

“You want me to tell Felicia that a six-year-old girl thinks I should marry her because I need a mother for Ming?”

Ruth tilted her head. “You know, a proposal would go far as a distraction.”

“You think I should propose?”

“That's not really something I'm comfortable encouraging you to do, my dear. Whether or not you ask my daughter to marry you is a decision that should be made by you and you alone.”

He'd obviously lost all control of the conversation. Not saying another word, he prodded Ruth forward, and a few moments later he finally found himself in the ballroom, craning his neck as he searched the crowd for Felicia.

“I'll leave you here,” Ruth said with a nod. “We don't want Felicia to see us together and realize we're conspiring.”

“Is that what we're calling this?”

Ruth sent him a cheeky grin and disappeared a second later.

He began to edge around the ballroom floor, nodding here and there to people he knew, frustration gnawing at him when he couldn't find Felicia. He was forced to a stop when a cluster of young ladies stepped over to him, all of them demanding his attention as he kissed one gloved hand after another. With promises to return and put his name on their dance card, he set off once again as the music ended and guests began to clear the ballroom floor.

His heart stopped beating when he finally caught sight of Felicia.

She was in the middle of the dance floor, and she looked enchanting.

Her golden hair was swept up on top of her head with a few tendrils left free to flit across her cheeks. Gems had been woven into her locks, and they sparkled under the light from the many chandeliers that graced the room, while that same light seemed to cause her skin to glow. His gaze lowered, and his heart began beating once again, beating so fast he felt, for a moment, light-headed.

She was wearing a gown of red silk, and it fit her form to perfection. He'd already come to the conclusion that she possessed some amazing curves, but seeing them in this particular gown left his mouth dry and his pulse racing.

A flash of temper stole through him once again when he noticed the bodice, or lack thereof, of her gown. Yes, there were many ladies tonight who wore similar gowns, cut in the exact way, but Felicia was slightly greater endowed than those ladies, and he felt the most unusual urge to rush to the nearest retiring room and search out a towel, much like the one Felicia had stuffed into the opera gown Arabella loaned her.

The temper suddenly turned to something that felt very much like rage when a gentleman Grayson had never seen before took Felicia's arm and began escorting her off the floor. The man leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear, something that caused Felicia to laugh.

The world went red.

Grayson began to move, ignoring the nods people were sending him and pretending not to see the hopeful young ladies doing their best to garner his attention, some even going so far as to wave their dainty handkerchiefs in his direction.

His rage increased when he realized the gentleman seemed to be directing Felicia not to the line of gentlemen who were obviously waiting to ask her to dance but toward a door Grayson knew full well led to an outside balcony.

Increasing his pace when he saw Felicia and the gentleman disappear through the door, Grayson reached the door a moment later and paused. The sound of Felicia's laughter met his ears, and for a second, he reconsidered—until she laughed again and he realized her laughter seemed strained. He drew in a breath, reminded himself that Theodore had urged him not to cause any carnage, straightened his spine, shoved the door open, and stalked outside.

D
umbfounded was the only word that sprang to mind to describe how she was feeling as she stood in the company of a gentleman who seemed to be under the odd impression they shared some type of an understanding. That understanding apparently stemmed from Reverend Bannes's assumption she was somewhat desperate to marry a gentleman in his chosen profession.

The idea was completely ludicrous and seemed to have come about due to a conversation Reverend Bannes had with Reverend Fraser sometime in the recent past.

Felicia vowed right then and there that she was going to have a stern talk with Reverend Fraser as soon as the man returned from his wedding trip, and that talk was going to be anything but pleasant, given the extreme discomfort Felicia was currently experiencing.

To think she'd once believed Reverend Fraser had understood her.

She heard a grunt escape through her lips, the noise causing
Reverend Bannes to pause in his speech and gaze rather curiously back at her.

She forced a laugh, which returned him to his monologue—something to do with the mode of dress a minister's wife was expected to embrace.

Felicia narrowed her eyes. Surely the man wasn't chastising her over her choice of gowns.

“. . . lovely, to be sure, my dear, but a more modest style might be in order for future occasions.”

He
was
chastising her.

This gave credence to the idea she'd been pondering for quite some time—the one where she just might have misunderstood God's intentions for her all along. She'd been so certain her path in life was to marry a man of the cloth, but now that idea seemed foolish in the extreme. Simply because a man was called to do God's work didn't mean he was perfect husband material for her.

Now that she'd had plenty of time to think about it, even Reverend Fraser, a kind man if she'd ever met one, wouldn't have been a viable choice. She'd known him for four years, and yet the man had obviously not known her at all. He'd apparently sent Reverend Bannes to New York under the delusion that Felicia would be only too happy to fall at Reverend Bannes's feet and thank him for the attention he so benevolently bestowed upon her.

Gentlemen—it was quickly becoming abundantly clear—were pesky creatures, and she was quite certain she was just about ready to wash her hands of all of them and go out and buy a whole horde of cats. Maybe
they'd
understand her.

An image of Grayson flashed to mind. Now, there was a gentleman who did seem to understand her. He knew she couldn't drive very well, certainly couldn't sing; and she knew perfectly well that if he ever discovered she was a horrendous cook, it wouldn't bother him in the least. She couldn't say the
same for Reverend Bannes. For some reason, she had the feeling he would expect his wife to be proficient in the kitchen.

“I can't cook.”

Reverend Bannes stopped talking midword and blinked at her. “I'm sorry?”

Felicia grinned. “As I would be as well if you were ever forced to eat anything I prepared. Do you know I've been forbidden access to our kitchen? You would not believe the to-do made over my catching it on fire.”

A muffled cough that sounded very much like laughter spun Felicia around. Her heart stopped for just a moment when she saw Grayson stepping out of the shadows. He was more than handsome in his evening attire, and her heart began beating a rapid tattoo when he settled his gaze on her and strode forward, determination in every step. The look in his eyes was something new, something intense, and something only for her. The dismal mood that had settled over her from the moment she'd discovered he might not be in attendance lifted.

“Grayson, this is a lovely surprise.”

Grayson stopped in front of her, took her hand in his, and brought it to his lips. A spark traveled through her fingers and spread up her arm from his touch, even though his lips had touched only her glove. She couldn't seem to break eye contact with him, and he couldn't seem to remove his lips from her fingers. For how long they stood like that, she couldn't say, but a loud clearing of a throat brought her abruptly back to awareness.

Grayson sent her a wink and lowered her hand, but he kept hold of her fingers as he gave Reverend Bannes a nod. “Good evening.”

Reverend Bannes cleared his throat again. “You still have Miss Murdock's hand.”

“So I do,” Grayson said cheerfully as he tightened his grip. “I'm Lord Sefton.”

Oh . . . dear.
Grayson had apparently taken issue with Reverend Bannes, because he only pulled out his title when he wanted to intimidate. She considered intervening, but the memory of Reverend Bannes criticizing her choice of attire sprang to mind, and she kept her lips pressed firmly together.

Reverend Bannes smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Ah, an illustrious member of the aristocracy here to take in the sights, I presume?” He didn't allow Grayson an opportunity to respond. “I am Reverend Thomas Bannes, an acquaintance of Reverend Fraser.” His smile grew wider. “Reverend Fraser encouraged me to travel to New York when he learned I was in the market for a wife. My dear wife, Susan, departed this world for the hereafter a year ago, leaving me with four motherless children.” He turned to Felicia. “Reverend Fraser assured me you would be delighted to receive my attentions.”

Felicia felt an urge to stick her finger in her ear and jiggle it, because surely there must be something wrong with her hearing. The man couldn't have just blithely announced that he was in the market for a wife because he had four motherless children on his hands.

She tilted her head and considered Reverend Bannes for a long moment, realizing he was serious. In fact, he was staring back at her with expectation stamped all over his face, as if he'd just extended her a special treat and was waiting for her to acknowledge that.

It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to roll her eyes. Honestly, what type of a treat would it be for her to accept this gentleman's attention, knowing full well he was only pursuing her in order to obtain a mother for his
four
children? Add in the troubling notion that he'd admitted he'd heard she was devout—which seemingly made her more acceptable for the role he intended—and he was lucky she was only considering rolling her eyes.

Irritation began to snake over her, but before she could open her mouth to put Reverend Bannes firmly in his place, Grayson tightened his grip on her hand and took one step forward.

“I really have no idea why Reverend Fraser would encourage you to pursue someone else's fiancée.”

It was rare for Felicia to find herself without words, but no words were available to her. She could only stand in mute amazement as Reverend Bannes's smile disappeared—and then he did the same a moment later.

Even after he'd gone, she still couldn't speak. The ramifications of what Grayson had just done were swirling through her mind even as lovely warmth swept over her.

“I have no idea why I said that,” Grayson muttered.

The lovely warmth disappeared.

“You didn't mean it?”

Grayson blinked. “Ah . . . well . . . you see . . .” He tugged on his tie as if it had suddenly become too tight. “That is to say . . . I have been pondering the idea of marriage lately, but I hadn't come to any firm conclusions as of yet.”

Felicia arched a brow.

Grayson swallowed. “Piper and I had a lovely conversation regarding that very subject recently, and your name did come up.”

“You sought marital advice from a six-year-old girl?”

“Piper is intuitive for her age.”

“Intuitive or not, she's still a child, and I'm at a loss as to why you were even participating in that conversation in the first place.”

Grayson began rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb, and Felicia yanked it away. She'd forgotten he'd been holding her hand, and with the direction their conversation was heading, she certainly didn't need to become distracted. She took a deliberate step back, earning a wounded look from him that she blithely ignored.

Grayson released a sigh. “It was not my intent to offend you.”

“What was your intent?”

“As to that, I'm not certain, but I didn't care for that Reverend Bannes at all, and when he proclaimed he was here to offer you his attention, I fear I might have spoken a bit rashly.”

“You do realize he's going to bring up the fact that we're supposedly engaged to someone at the ball, don't you?”

Grayson winced. “I didn't consider that.”

She didn't appreciate the wince. “You should have. Honestly, Grayson, if word spreads about an engagement and then everyone learns it's nonexistent, I'll become the object of pity once again. I don't enjoy pity—loathe it, in fact. I hate when everyone takes to patting my hand as if I'm on my sickbed and speaking to me in hushed tones.”

Grayson tilted his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to marrying you.”

Felicia raised a hand to her heart. “And doesn't that just make me feel all aflutter.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

Her response to that was one extremely unladylike snort.

“You
are
being sarcastic.”

“Why in the world would you believe I need to descend into sarcasm? I've been having such a pleasant time this evening. First, I've been forced to spend time with Reverend Bannes, who, it turns out, has traveled here to offer me a lovely proposal—one that would have me assuming the role of mother to his four children. Then you announce to him that we're engaged, but it turns out you didn't really mean it, so apparently you are now reconsidering and wouldn't be opposed to giving me your esteemed name.”

“At least I don't want you for the sole reason of becoming a mother to Ming,” Grayson said with a distinct trace of sulkiness in his voice.

Felicia blinked. She hadn't realized he was prone to that particular emotion. For some reason, odd as it seemed, she found it rather endearing. She shook herself. Now was not the time to dwell on that type of nonsense. She cleared her throat. “You probably decided not to point out what an excellent mother I'd be to Ming only because Piper advised you against it.”

Grayson's face turned a shade darker, causing Felicia's mouth to drop open. “She
did
warn you against bringing that up, didn't she?”

“Ah, well . . .”

“Is everything all right, Miss Murdock?”

Felicia turned and discovered Mr. Blackheart lurking beside the stone wall that encompassed the balcony. She motioned him forward. “Mr. Blackheart, I need your assistance, if you please.”

Mr. Blackheart was by her side in less than a second, causing Felicia to blink. For such a large gentleman, he was remarkably light on his feet.

“Did you need me to dispose of Mr. Sumner?” Mr. Blackheart asked in a soft voice that one might use when inquiring about the weather.

Felicia swallowed the laugh that threatened to escape and settled for shaking her head. “That won't be necessary. What I need from you is a man's opinion, and you're a man, so you'll do nicely.”

Mr. Blackheart turned the scowl he'd been sending Grayson on her. “I'm not paid to offer opinions, Miss Murdock.”

“I understand, Mr. Blackheart, but as you're paid to look after my welfare, and my welfare is unquestionably at risk at the moment, I'm really going to have to insist.”

Mr. Blackheart crossed his arms over his chest and let out a grunt.

Felicia smiled. “Mr. Sumner believes I have no reason to be put out with him because he's announced to Reverend Bannes
that we're engaged when it turns out he didn't actually mean it. Now he has decided he wouldn't be opposed to marrying me since there will be repercussions from his rash statement, and I was just wondering whether you think I'm being silly or if I have just cause to be annoyed.”

Mr. Blackheart shot a glance to Grayson and then turned on his heel and strode away as quickly as he could without a single word, disappearing over the balcony wall.

Men were certainly strange creatures. She lifted her head and found Grayson grinning, the sight causing her temper to flare once again.

“It's not amusing.”

Grayson's grin widened. “I do believe you terrify that poor man. He just jumped over the balcony, and we're two stories up.”

“Good heavens, you're right.” Felicia rushed over to the edge, peered down, and felt her lips curl when the sight of Mr. Blackheart casually strolling over to stand beneath a gas lamppost met her gaze. She'd expected to find his poor, mangled body lying on the cobblestones. Instead he sent her a tip of his hat, crossed his arms over his chest, and began to turn his head this way and that, evidently returning to what he was paid to do, search for trouble.

She straightened and turned. “He's fine, but just to be clear, I'm hardly terrifying. It not my fault Mr. Blackheart has issues with the simple act of conversing.”