An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Thirty: Disillusioned

"I don't pretend to feel nothing for him," Grace said. "I am fond of him."

"Oh, fond! That's a pleasant word! I am very fond of Mr Underton's mother."

Grace laughed. "You can't tease me into pretending I feel more than I do. I am happy to be marrying him. Is that not enough?"

She was, too. She was so happy she dared not express her true feelings. It felt as though speaking of her happiness might break it. Of particular anticipation was the prospect of tomorrow night, though she would sooner die than admit it to Harriet. After months of James drawing back just as things were getting interesting, she was aching with curiosity to know what happened next. Perhaps Harriet was right about it. Certainly, Grace no longer believed Ellen's description of love-making.

Perhaps her face showed her thoughts, for Harriet smiled. "I can see you are happy. And I'm happy for you. You deserve—"

A knock at the door interrupted her and she flushed pink.

"Come in," Grace said.

The door opened, and the maid slipped through. "Excuse me, Miss," she said. "A letter came for you. Hand-delivered. The gentleman would not take no for an answer."

Was it James? No. He would have come up to see her himself, even if it was the night before their wedding. Grace took the letter curiously. A half-forgotten hand met her eyes when she slit it open and her heart fell.

"Speak of the devil," she said to Harriet. "Thank you, Eloise. You may go. There will be no reply."

The letter was short though not to the point.

Dear Miss Follet,

Much time has elapsed since I had the honour of calling you my beloved, and I am unsure now if I even have the privilege of calling you my friend. However, I must trespass upon your magnanimity and beg an audience of you. There is information I have recently discovered of a highly disagreeable nature about James Redwood. After solemn reflection I have come to believe it is my duty to impart this information to you before the event of your wedding.

Tomorrow morning at seven I will be waiting in the lane behind your house.

Sincerely Yours,

G. B.

Grace passed it to Harriet silently, who read it and raised her eyebrows.

"James will be jealous."

"Furious, rather. I have an idea he warned Benson off, shortly after Father died. But I won't tell James about it, and I'm certainly not going to meet him."

"You aren't at all curious?" Harriet poked Grace in the waist. "He might be planning to make an impassioned declaration of love and beg you for your hand."

"I would hope not!" Grace crumpled up the note and tossed it at the fire. "Though I doubt it. The very ink bleeds malice."

"Well, I will be thinking about it all day long, wondering. It is all so very mysterious."

"I won't spare a moment to think about Benson at all," Grace said. "I will be thinking only of James."

"And you say you don't love him!" Harriet laughed then looked thoughtful. "What if I meet Benson in your stead?"

"What good would that do?"

"It would satisfy my curiosity. Besides, if he is planning on making trouble on your wedding day, it would be better to know in advance. It would be dreadful if he were to appear in church. I doubt he would do anything more than mope darkly in a backwards pew, but it would rather spoil the mood."