Wedding In Springtime(29)

"Midsummer Night's Dream? I am always game for a laugh, much to my shame, as you well know!"

"Yet there is no lady I would rather be with," said Grant much too  truthfully. He leaned a shoulder on the wall that divided their gardens  and took her hand in his.

She stepped closer and gazed up at him with deep blue eyes that despite  the coolness of the color danced with fire. Her lips, full and pink,  beckoned him. He leaned down to indulge in a kiss but realized what he  was doing and pulled back with a jerk.

"Sorry. My mistake. You are so beautiful I cannot seem to resist. Yet my intentions are less than honorable, so I must forbear!"

Genie's breath came fast and her cheeks were flushed. It only added to  her beauty. "So one must only kiss if one's intentions are honorable?"

"In present company, it is a must I fear."

"Then I should give you this." In a flash, Genie wrapped her hands  around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Fire shot through his body  and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

She broke the kiss but did not pull away from his embrace. "My  intentions are honorable," she said, looking up at him through her  lashes.

He could no longer resist. He kissed her. Not a chaste kiss one bestows  upon a virginal debutante, but a hungry kiss of a man enflamed with  lust. Her lips parted easily and he deepened the kiss, unable to stop  himself from tasting the pleasures that had plagued his thoughts since  he first kissed her under the tree. His hands roamed up and down her  back until he cupped her backside and pressed her to him, knowing she  must feel the full length of his regard for her.         

     



 

"Whatcha doing?" asked the small voice of Jem.

"Oh!" exclaimed Genie and jumped away from Grant.

"Go on back to the parlor, Jem," commanded Grant, biting back a curse for the person who dared separate him from his lady.

"Do I still get a trifle?"

"If you can get there now and stay there," demanded Grant.

A rustling in the brush was the only evidence Jem had heeded the command.

"I fear we have been gone a while," said Genie, her cheeks flushed. "How will we explain our absence?"

Grant took several deep breaths to cool his ardor. He needed to get  himself under control to be seen in public. "Fortunately, I am not as  attached to the truth as no doubt I should be. Leave it to me."

Grant walked beside Genie back to Bremerton house, unsure how he felt.  He was supposed to make young things feel confused and love struck, not  the other way around. He had never been kissed by a society miss before.  There had been young ladies who attempted to kiss him but only in an  effort to get "caught" and thereby force a proposal. Genie had kissed  him because she wanted him, not his name or his fortune.

When they entered Lady Bremerton's sitting room, it was clear their  absence had been noted, but before anyone could speak, Grant took the  situation in hand.

"There you are!" Grant said to Marchford in an accusatory tone. "Where have you been? We have looked everywhere for you."

"You were looking for us?" asked Marchford. "We have been looking for you! You have been missed for at least a half hour."

"But this cannot be. We saw that you and Lady Louisa were no longer in  the garden and went into the lane to look for you. We even took a stroll  up and down the street, but we could never find you."

"Ah, so that is where you were," sighed Lady Bremerton in relief. "I see  that there is no harm done, but next time, Genie, do tell me if you  plan to leave the garden."

"Yes, Aunt Cora," said Genie obediently.

The gentlemen left shortly after, leaving Genie time to think upon her  adventure with Mr. Grant. What could she have been thinking to so accost  him? It may not be a graveyard at midnight, but she feared she was in  very real danger of seduction.





Eighteen


"Too late for Tatt's," grumbled Marchford once he and Grant left  Bremerton house. "You want to tell me where you were all this time?"

"Found an urchin and gave it a bath."

Marchford gave his friend a glare. "If you do not wish to tell me, just  say so. I don't want to tax your intellect by devising such a fantasy."

"Was that an insult on my limited intellectual prowess and my tenuous  grasp on reality?" laughed Grant. "How did things go with Louisa?"

"Wretched. If she spoke more than five times in the entire visit, I  should be surprised, and now I have to play host to them for dinner."

"I do not envy you, my friend."

"Where can I drop you?" asked Marchford, climbing onto his curricle.

Grant put his hand on the door of the curricle but paused and stepped back. "Not going far. Think I'll walk."

Marchford turned and yanked the reins so that the horses pranced and whinnied in protest. "Did you say you were going to walk?"

"Yes, yes I did. It's not far. Think I can do it if I apply myself."

"Are you well? I should hate to leave you unprotected if you are febrile or concussed."

"Am I well? Attempting to walk the streets of London!" To his friend's,  and perhaps his own, astonishment, Grant strolled down the street,  walking around the block back home.

The walk itself was not long, yet he was feeling ridiculously pleased  with himself for making the effort when he walked in the front door. He  was greeted by his butler and his housekeeper. Armed with a comb in one  hand and a hairbrush in the other, the housekeeper disappeared into the  parlor to tame the wild head of Jem the urchin.

As Grant handed off his greatcoat, which this time he had managed to retrieve, a knock came at the door.

"Mr. Saunders," said Grant in greeting.

"Good day, Mr. Grant," said the man of business. "I have come to collect  some papers from your father's study. He wrote to me to take care of a  few things."

"Yes, of course," said Grant and ushered him into his father's study. As  his father's man of business, Mr. Saunders was a not uncommon visitor,  yet Grant knew very little of his activities. Instead of heading to the  billiard room as usual, Grant turned and followed Mr. Saunders into the  study.

"Mr. Grant, is there something I can help you with?" asked the thin man with an efficient clip to his tone.         

     



 

"Wondering what you did. Maybe you could enlighten me."

Mr. Saunders opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Grant waited for the first wave of shock to pass.

Mr. Saunders sat heavily in the oak chair behind the desk. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything!" Grant took a seat across from the befuddled man. "Why you're here to start."

"Ah, well," said Saunders, shuffling about some papers. "We need to find  new tenants for one of the estates." Several thumps from somewhere  inside the house caused the man to look up.

"Nothing to be concerned about." Grant waved off the man's worried expression. "New tenants? How do we do that?"

"We put out a notice with the land agent. Of course, we must first evict  the present tenants. It might be a bit awkward since they have written  me repeatedly asking for their lease to be extended."

"Why not extend it?"

"They are more than six months behind on the rent. Apparently, they have  taken on several orphan boys and the expenses were more than they  expected."

"An orphanage?"

"No, not quite if the letters are to be believed. They are a bit odd.  Quakers, you understand, though we were not aware of it at the time of  rental. They apparently feel the boys must be raised in a homelike  setting."

A crash came from the parlor and Mr. Saunders again looked up, alarmed.

"Think nothing of it," said Grant calmly.

"But it sounds like something broke." Mr. Saunders's frown intensified when a howl erupted from the parlor.

"The orange cat figurine I can only hope," said Grant wistfully.  "Dreadful thing. Now tell me about this home for boys. I assure you  nothing you could say could be of greater interest to me."

"Well, I'm not sure what more there is to say, other than I am charged  with writing to them to let them know we expect them to vacate the  premises."

"Oh no, we can't have that," declared Grant. "Their lease must be renewed."

"But the rent-good heavens, sir, what is that noise?" A scream shot through the house.

"Hairbrush," said Grant sagely. "Please do write these lovely Quakers  and tell them we support their efforts, want to make a contribution.  Christian duty and all that."

"Hairbrush? Christian duty? Mr. Grant, is this some sort of joke?"

"No, no. You think me a heathen?"

"Well …  I have not as yet seen any evidence you care to express your faith through action."

"I do now," said Grant plainly, even as another crash and a howl gave Mr. Saunders alarm.

"Mr. Grant, something is greatly amiss in your household!"