My Cynical Marquess ~ Lords of Reluctance Book 1

Chapter Eight

For Grace, dinner proved to be more pleasant than she anticipated. After consultation with the marchioness, she decided to use the Wedgwood china. Painted with scenes of Rutherford Court and its surrounding countryside, it went perfectly with the fingerbowls and glassware from Waterford. Grace thought it a little vain, but beautiful, nonetheless.

Cook had excelled herself with the culinary offerings as well, particularly the roasted turkey that melted in Grace's mouth like butter. The silver centrepiece Porter lovingly polished to a high shine sat in the centre of the table and held various cakes and biscuits destined for the sweet course. A decadently rich trifle finished the meal to perfection.

Lord Grosvenor sat on her left and Lord Markham sat on her right. She found both gentlemen quite charming, despite Lord Grosvenor's taciturn disposition. Not that he spoke to her much, he appeared to be quite enamoured with her aunt, who sat on his other side. Grace had to smile at Lady Bedford's reaction to his attentions; she appeared to act like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It would not surprise Grace in the least that her aunt and the debonair gentleman would make a match of it and she could not be happier. At least they had the same interests. Lord Grosvenor had recently returned from Egypt and Grace heard him regaling Lady Bedford with the sights he saw.

"Rutherford told me you play the pianoforte. Do I dare hope you shall entertain us this evening? I do enjoy music. I promise to turn the pages if you will," Lord Markham said, smiling charmingly at her.

Grace glanced at Lord Rutherford and then at the marchioness, who sat close enough to have heard what Lord Markham said. "Of course, if her ladyship would wish," she said.

"Her ladyship does wish," that lady said with a sweet smile. "There is something most pleasant about hearing music following dinner."

At the foot of the table, Grace observed Lady Felicity in animated conversation with Lord Rutherford. At the change of courses, she paid scant attention to Sir Richard, and then returned her sparkling laugh and beaming gaze back to the object of her affections. Alternatively, did she bestow affection on the marquess? To Grace, her animation appeared to be quite forced as if she had to work exceedingly hard at it. Grace had little doubt not a thing would be said to that lady regarding her high spirits. A lady of her rank could speak as she pleased without risk of reprimand from anyone. Her reflection on the manners of people of rank ended when Lord Markham queried her on her writing.

"I do love it, my lord," she said, sighing. "My only fear is that when I get married, I shall not be allowed to."

"Is that the only reason you do not wish to be married?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Despite her rather obscure opinions and outspokenness, he found her quite intriguing. He would love the opportunity to become better acquainted with her.

Grace gazed at the viscount, wondering how much of her first conversation with Lord Rutherford he had been told. "Yes, it is," she replied bluntly. "Would you allow your wife to write if that is what made her happy?" She knew she risked serious consequences by asking something so personal. A lady simply did not ask about such things. However, she had to know. Especially if she pursued a marriage to the kind gentleman as her aunt and Lady Rutherford wanted.

Lord Markham thought a moment. To be honest, he had not actually given it much thought. Most of the ladies he met making their bows to society he found to be quite empty headed. At least Grace challenged him, which appealed to him quite considerably. "Not all gentlemen are ogres, my dear," he replied kindly. "If that is what my wife wished, then I would be rather heartless not to allow her."

Grace released the breath she did not realise she had been holding. "I fear my knowledge on the matter is quite restricted to gentlemen I have known in the past. One in particular," she said bitterly.