Rescuing the Earl by Lana Williams

Author:Lana Williams [Williams, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-13T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Men are sent to the Society’s premises to chop wood, and women and children to the oakum-room.”

~The Seven Curses of London

Grace stepped out of the carriage, pausing as she examined the mansion before her. The faint glow of dusk was fading, turning the colors of the evening sky into the perfect backdrop for the impressive three-story house.

Each window boasted a trio of candles, their stair-stepped heights so uniform that she wondered if a servant had been in each room, lighting them at the same time. Given the size of the Albright’s mansion with its tall white columns gracing the entrance, a large staff would need to be employed to maintain it.

As elegantly attired guests walked up the stairs to the front door where a liveried footman stood guard, Grace fought the urge to turn and run.

“My lady?” Frederick drew her attention, making her realize she had yet to descend the final step of the carriage. “Is all well?”

She closed her eyes briefly, wondering if she could truly do this. She knew no one here. The idea of standing in a room full of strangers who might judge her and find her lacking was daunting.

She smoothed her hands along the shimmering grey silk of her gown. Did her attire manage to mask the fact that she didn’t feel like a viscountess? Or would she be declared an impostor as soon as she stepped through those doors?

Then an image of Matthew came to mind. He was the reason she needed to succeed at this. She’d said good night to him in the nursery after she’d already donned her gown. He’d told her she looked like a fairy princess as he’d gently touched the jet-black and diamond necklace she wore. Then he’d run his fingers along the smooth silk of her gown in awe, much as she’d done when Miss Flitchard—Katherine—had arrived with it for a final fitting.

The fabric glittered as though it had indeed been sprinkled with fairy dust. Grace worried it was showy and would draw too much attention. But Katherine had shown her that it only did so in certain lights and angles. The subtle shimmer made the grey of half-mourning appear anything but ordinary. The bustle at the back of the gown was modest as was the small train. The fabric was lightweight enough that she barely felt the tug of resistance from the silk trailing along behind her.

Her hair was intricately coiffed, drawn back in plaited strands to tumble in supposed disarray in the back. Her cheeks were so warm she doubted she needed to worry about pinching them for color.

Grace only wished Katherine were here with her now. At least then she’d have one friend. She drew a deep breath, keeping in mind Katherine’s advice of acting like a viscountess whether or not she felt like one.

“Thank you, Frederick.” She took the final step and descended to the walkway and made her way to the stairs.

Was Tristan already inside? She chided herself for even wondering. His fiancée would not take kindly to having Grace cling to him.

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