Memories of Bath curdled in her stomach, making it suddenly hard for her to maintain her happy expression.
"If you're not careful," he whispered to her during a turn, "people will think you're in pain."
"I'm smiling," she defended.
"Like a cadaver. Try something a bit less forced."
Glaring, she showed him her teeth.
He laughed again, then deliberately bobbled his step so that she tripped against him. Her eyes widened only seconds before he clutched her tight and pressed his mouth to hers. Her thoughts scattered in an instant, the music fading to a low hum as the pleasure of his kiss surged through her.
///
But just as abruptly as he'd drawn her to him, he released her again. "There," he stated, "that should set them all agog." Barely missing a beat, he resumed the intricate steps of the dance, while she struggled to do the same.
Heart fluttering, she realized she was rather agog herself. Hot color crept into her cheeks, embarrassment working to mask the other emotions churning inside her.
Recovering enough that she was able to continue dancing without shaming herself, she realized that his ploy had achieved its intended goal. No matter how she might appear to others at present, everyone would attribute her reaction to his audacious kiss. And they would not be far wrong.
When the music ended, she found the entire room watching them. But instead of disapproval, she discovered indulgent smiles and twinkling eyes. As he led her from the dance floor, she overheard someone whisper their astonishment over the fact that Lord Jack's marriage was clearly a love match, after all.
How foolish they would surely feel if only they knew the truth.
Jack escorted her to a quiet spot on the far side of the room. Grateful for the respite, she opened her fan and applied it to her still burning cheeks.
She was about to suggest that Jack go do something useful-like procure her a glass of punch, or perhaps soak his head in a bucket-when her father strolled into view.
"Well, aren't you two a sight!" Ezra Danvers declared with a toothy smile. "A right pair 'o lovebirds, if ever I did see."
Her fingers tightened against the delicate staves of her fan, but she mustered a smile nonetheless. "Papa."
Inviting her father to tonight's ball had been Ava's idea, a suggestion Grace had naturally had to support in spite of the resentment that still brewed inside her over his underhanded bargain with Jack.
Since returning to London, she'd seen little of her father, and not once had she visited the house on St. Martin's Lane. She'd used the excuse of being too busy in her new life to make the trip across Town. But in truth, she'd been afraid to go, fearing the welter of emotions that might rise up and spill over once she was surrounded again by old memories and familiar surroundings. She worried too that her unhappiness would show. Or that her simmering temper might cause her to reveal that she knew the whole of his and Jack's scheme.
Perhaps such revelations wouldn't matter at this point, but pride was a strange thing. Pride and the fact that she refused to give her father the opportunity to ever again interfere in her life.
To maintain the appearance of family harmony, she'd twice invited Papa to dinner at the town house, where he'd been one of a larger group of family and a few intimate friends. But he never stayed long, too "uncomfortable" around the Quality to be at his ease. So her real feelings and the truth about her marriage remained easy to conceal from him.
Actually, she was surprised he was even here tonight, considering his discomfort around members of the Ton. But apparently his puffed-up conceit at seeing her so well-placed in Society had overcome his reluctance to be in their exalted midst.
Striving to push aside such unkind musings, she waved her fan in languid arcs before her face, using it to distract both her father's attention and her own.
As though sensing her agitation, Jack laid a hand against her waist. Rather than pull away, she leaned into his touch, strangely glad of his support.
"If you aren't careful, yer going to get my girl talked about in the papers, my lord," her father admonished in a cheerful tone. "But it does my heart good to see the both of you so wild for each other. Why even now, you can hardly keep your hands off my Gracie. As for that spectacle on the dance floor … well, I suppose there's no harm done, seeing yer married and all."
She continued waving her fan, by no means trusting herself to speak.
Luckily, Jack stepped into the breach. "You are most understanding, Mr. Danvers, since Grace is simply too sweet to resist. No man could wish for a better wife."
She lowered her gaze, an ache forming beneath her ribs to hear him utter such charming lies.
"Moment I laid eyes on you, Byron, I knew you were the one for my girl," her father continued. "It's good to be proven right. Now, I just need a few grandchildren."
Jack eased her even closer and smiled. "Not to worry. We are applying ourselves to the matter with great diligence."
Her father let out a booming laugh. "From what I've witnessed tonight, I can be assured of that."
Jack gave a reciprocating laugh. But even knowing she should, Grace couldn't bring herself to join them.
///
A couple of moments later, a tall, older gentleman joined them. If Grace remembered right, the man was one of Jack's paternal uncles. They all conversed for a brief time before his uncle asked if he could "steal" Jack away for a minute or two, leaving Grace alone with her father.
Waving her fan a little faster, she wondered how much longer it would be until dinner-not that she was hungry, but at least the meal would give her an excuse for new company. Something of her displeasure must have shown as her father met her gaze.
"Come now, don't poker up so," he said. "We were just teasing before. Never knew you to be so sensitive."
At first, she wasn't sure what he meant. Then she realized he was talking about his and Jack's recent conversation. Grabbing onto the topic, she used it as cover for her uncertain mood.
"I am not sensitive. I just don't think a ball is the place to discuss the subject of making grandchildren."
"Don't see why not," he chortled. "But if it discomposes you, then I won't say another word."
She gave him what she hoped was an appreciative smile.
Music filled the room as a new set began, couples moving with elegant form to the melody. She and her father watched in silence for a short time.
"Yer happy, aren't ye, Gracie?" he asked, thumbs tucked into his waistcoat as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
Her gaze shot to his. "Yes. Of course I'm happy."
He studied her for a moment before he relaxed. "Good, good. Because you know, I've never wanted anything but the best for you."
"Yes, Papa. I know."
"And I've never done anything that I didn't think would lead to your happiness."
Why is he saying this? Is he feeling guilty? she wondered.
"But I'm glad you're so happy. And I know ye are. Doesn't take a genius to see how much you love Byron. And he's clearly besotted with you. I'm just pleased it's all worked out so well."
And she realized that in his own opinionated, overbearing, high-handed way, he meant what he said. As wrong as his methods might be, in his mind what he'd done had been for her benefit. She would never be able to condone his actions, but she understood them. Perhaps she could even forgive them in time.
Suddenly, her anger fell away.
This time when she smiled, it wasn't forced. "You're right. It's all worked out as planned. Frightening as it may seem at times, this is my world now, the world to which you've always wanted me to belong. And now I do because of you and Jack. How could I possibly be anything but ecstatic?"
Yes, she thought sadly. How indeed?
Chapter 22
Grace had thought herself busy in the weeks leading up to Easter, but as she rapidly discovered, those days had been a leisurely rehearsal compared to the whirlwind that was The London Season.
From morning to night, her schedule was full, whether she was promised to attend a breakfast fête, an afternoon picnic, or an elegant evening soirée. In between, there were social calls and shopping expeditions, carriage rides and promenades in the park, and an occasional night at the theater or opera.
Having been taken beneath the collective wing of Ava, Meg and Mallory, Grace was content to abdicate the responsibility of deciding which invitations she would accept, while she learned to navigate the sometimes treacherous shoals of the Haut Ton.