A Gentle Grace (Wedded Women Quartet) by Jillian Eaton

anymore and blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Why did you come to call on me?”
    Stephen did not answer immediately. Like the lion she had compared him to at their first meeting he took his time to settle in. One long leg stretched out under the table while the other hooked around his chair. He loosened his cravat with a flick of his wrist and leaned back, linking his hands behind his head before slanting her an amused glance from beneath his heavily lidded eyes.
      He has obviously never been taught the proper etiquette of how to sit , Grace thought with a little frown, although in truth she was quite jealous for he looked so very comfortable while she was already suffering from an ache the size of a fist in the middle of her back.
    “Why did I come to call on you?” he repeated slowly, as if weighing and measuring each word. “Is it not obvious?”
    “No, it is not.”
    “And why is that?”
    Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those most annoying people who insist on answering every question with a question? If so, I do not believe we will get along well at all.”
    The Earl barked out a laugh. “That,” he said, his green eyes gleaming as a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That is why I came to call on you.” 
    “Because I insinuated you were annoying?” Grace asked, her eyebrows knitting together in bemusement.
    “No. Well, yes, I suppose. But mostly because you make me laugh. I see that surprises you.”
    “It does,” she admitted.
    “Why?”
    “That is not a reason to come calling on someone, Lord Melbourne,” she said with exasperation. One minute with the man and he might as well have been speaking in riddles for all the sense he made. She wondered if this was how he was with everyone, or just with her. “You call on them because you find them witty or charming or… or physically appealing. Not because they make you laugh. Why, anything can cause anyone to laugh!”
    “Do you do it often then?” he asked.
    “Do I… Do I do what often?”
    “Laugh.”
    Grace’s fingers strayed to her throat and began to play absently with the pearl buttons that adorned the high necked collar of her dress. “I suppose I do. At least a dozen times a day, in my estimation.”
    “A dozen times?” Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. “That is quite a bit.”
    “Is it? I had never really given it much thought before. I am not… That is to say… Well, I am not a very serious minded person, Lord Melbourne,” she confessed in a whisper less her mother was listening. “You would find out eventually, so I suppose it is best I tell you now.”
    “Not very serious, you say? I am shocked.”
    Grace nodded guiltily. “I thought you would be. And I am quite clumsy as well.”
    “Clumsy? You?” His eyes widened. “I never would have guessed.”
    “Yes,” Grace sighed. “So as you can see, we do not at all suit.”
    Stephen stood so abruptly that Grace jumped back in her chair. “Walk with me, Lady Deringer.”
    “W-walk with you?” She wet her lips. Her mother had mentioned nothing about walking. “Walk with you where?”
    “There.” He pointed to the field. “We would be in sight of the house the entire time. It would be most proper, I assure you.”
    Grace rather thought it would be most im proper, but she was forced to admit that the idea had merit. For as long as she could remember she had chaffed against the constraints put on her by the unchangeable fact that she was a woman. Wear this, say that. Never speak when not spoken to. Never stare. Never question. In her lap, hidden beneath the table, her small hands curled into fists as she made her decision. She would walk with the Earl, and she would say whatever she wanted, etiquette and rules be damned!
    “I would love to take a walk with you, Lord Melbourne.” Carefully gathering up her skirts so as not to trip, she slid back her chair and breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to stand without incident.