The Bad Jokes #2: The Blonde

Chapter 19 (Gracie): Slowly And Carefully

Open your door, Gracie.

I looked at the text from Wyatt. He'd been texting me several times a day in the week since he'd sent Rio Hawkens to sing me a song. My cousins still weren't letting me live that down and even my brother had been sending me messages.

Hey, sending the King of England to stop by and say hi to you. Make sure you don't document the occasion, Gracelyn. No biggie. Happens all the time.

Wyatt's texts to me weren't earth shattering or even profound. Just friendly check ins, a way to keep himself in front of me even though he was more than a thousand miles away from me. Saying good morning, telling me something funny he saw, hoping my writing was going well, wishing me a good night. Easy, not demanding, never questioning why I didn't respond.

Why, Wyatt? 

Did I look forward to waking up and having a text from him? Yes, I did. And because there was no one around but Mouse to witness the silly smile on my face, I could admit that the first thing I did every morning was check my phone. There was always a text or two waiting for me. I knew he was busy working crazy hours as a personal protection officer for Blue Hatcher's six-month tour, but he still managed to shoot me texts when he had a moment -- usually before he started for the day or when Blue was ensconced in his hotel room and one of the other PPOs was on duty outside Blue's door.

When I saw his text telling me to open my door again, I wondered if he'd sent Rio back for a second song. If he had, I needed to not be so starstruck that I forgot to get pics. Before I even realized it, I was hurrying toward my front door. I looked out the peephole and then opened the door, sure the distortion through the peephole had me seeing things wrong.

Nope. A vaguely familiar man and a woman dressed in Regency period formal dress stood before me. The gentleman -- clearly a dandy -- sketched a sharp bow to me, and the woman gave me a curtsy.

"My lady, if you would accompany us?"

I nodded, and then took a guess. "I would love to, Lord and Lady Twillingham."

The man raised an eyebrow. "My darling, clearly our reputation precedes us if Lady Matthewson knows of us."

I wanted to take a page out of the time period and swoon. Lord and Lady Twillingham were from my eighth book, the first in a trilogy based on dances. This particular couple was from Waltzing with His Wicked Woman. Robert, Lord Twillingham, Duke of Lancashire, found himself, upon the sudden death of his wastrel older brother, inheriting the title. As the second son, he'd previously lived quite happily off his inheritance and had acquired a mistress who made her living as an actress. And he had just so happened to fall in love with her.

The dowager duchess, having barely survived the scandal of her older son being killed in a duel after having been caught  in a compromising position with the fresh-from-the-schoolroom daughter of a high-ranking lord, put her foot down with the new duke. She was a mother, and mothers heard the gossip, so she informed him that the dukedom had been rocked with enough scandal between her husband and the coachman, and then her oldest son and the duel. If the new duke refused to stop seeing his mistress, mummy would make the mistress disappear in a permanent sort of way. So, seeing that his mother was quite serious, he ended his liaison with Fanny, breaking her heart, and proposed when his mother found a suitable young chit for him to marry -- all to protect his beloved.

At his engagement ball, Fanny had boldly appeared to tell Robert she was enceinte with his illegitimate child. Before she had a chance to break the news, however, Robert saw Fanny across the room and instead of delivering the cut direct as all rules of social discourse demanded, he had boldly marched over and asked his former mistress to waltz with him. Chaos ensued; tongues were set to wagging and in all the confusion after their scandalous waltz, the duke and Fanny had left the ball, escaped to Gretna Green and been married. The dowager duchess was packed off to a small, out-of-the-way country estate and if the new duke and duchess's baby arrived a couple of months early, well, that often happened to ladies back then.

My heart was beating wildly with anticipation because I knew what was about to happen. I'd been talking with Wyatt once and I'd made an offhand remark that this was one scene I'd always wanted to see played out in real life.

He'd remembered my off-the-cuff remark.

When we made it down to the far end of the parking lot, a portable dance floor had been set up, and a string quartet was arranged just behind the wooden floor. Robert stood with me while Fanny crossed the floor and stood just to the side of the quartet. The musicians began the waltz as Robert looked across the floor and whispered, "My love," with all the longing and frustration I'd written into those two little words.

And then he was off, bowing to her, offering her his arm as he escorted her onto the dance floor, and my imagination filled in the gasps and the whispering and the tittering behind the ladies' fans they were using to hide their shocked and deliciously scandalized expressions.

My eyes followed the couple as they expertly executed the steps of the waltz, sweeping across the floor, never making a misstep, perfectly in time with the music. The way he was looking into her eyes was as intense and as hot as I'd imagined it, and the look of absolute wickedness in her eyes was straight from my words when I'd described the dance and the emotions flying between the two.

When the waltz ended, the two dancers turned to me and, still keeping in character, he bowed and she curtsied. Then they both turned slightly and indicated the musicians with their hands.

I clapped my hands enthusiastically for all of them, my smile huge.

"Well, it's a good thing we were here this time," Justice said as she came up behind me. "Because once again, you didn't record it."

"How did you know?" I said, and saw Rory heading toward the dancers.

"Wyatt asked Rory to arrange it."

"I'm surprised she took his call."

"He called Xane and he talked her into it. You don't want to know." Justice made a face that let me know Rory had started to go into details that all of us were better off not knowing.

"Hold on, Justice. I want to get back to Wyatt asking Xane, but first I need to thank everyone."

I walked up and shook their hands, finally realizing that this was Trevor and Sally from Rory's acting troupe. The musicians were ones who always played in the orchestra for her musicals. We all talked and laughed for a few minutes -- well, I gushed, and they laughed at my enthusiasm -- and they finally left as a crew came to break down the portable dance floor.

My cousins walked back with me to the condo.

"Why did he do this?" I wondered.

"Well," Rory said, "when I looked up Tangoing with His Troublemaking Temptress and Sarabanding with His Sexy Seductress, I thought the waltz would be the easiest dance for the actors to perform --"

"No, Roar," I said impatiently. "What's Wyatt's point? Why is he doing all of this when he's not even around?"

"Maybe ask him," Justice said. "But it's pretty obvious he wants you back."

I shook my head. "I know he does. Or at least, he's said he does. But his texts are nothing more than friendly -- and then he goes and arranges something like this."

"Maybe," Rory said slowly, "given the way he fucked up and given what you went through with your stalker, he's giving you time and space while he builds his case slowly and carefully."

"What case?"

"That despite what he did, you aren't second, Gracie."