sounded odd, even to her ears, she explained, “I was orphaned when I was very young.”
Grace required no sympathy from anyone. She had been so young when her mother and father had died that she did not remember them. All she had to cling to were the stories her grandfather and Rosemary told her, and old paintings in the gallery at Frethwell Hall.
The earl nodded, deducing that any sympathy would not have been welcome. “Ah, yes … and if I recall correctly, you are the Duke of Strangham’s daughter.”
Surprise lit up her eyes. “My uncle inherited the title, but your assumptions are correct. How did you know? You must have been a child when my father and mother died.”
Then it occurred to her. The Duke of Huntsley had shared certain details of her life with his friends.
Instead of mentioning his connection to Hunter, he explained, “Oh, I was a boy. However, you come from an old and revered family, Lady Grace. The loss of your parents touched many hearts in the ton, and such losses are often discussed and lamented by our elders.”
It was a reasonable explanation, and it touched her heart that the ton had not forgotten her parents as she had. Unfortunately for the earl, she did not believe that was the true source of his knowledge about her personal tragedy.
“I did not expect to encounter you so late at the Lovelaces’,” Regan said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You usually get bored at these affairs.”
“I do,” her brother said in agreeable tones. To Grace, he confessed, “Greedy hostesses are reluctant to allow wealthy bachelors to slip through their fingers.”
Regan appeared to surrender. “Not exactly subtle, dear brother. I can think of a certain gentleman who will not appreciate your mischief.”
Was his sister referring to Hunter? Grace’s lips parted as she prepared to assure her companions that the Duke of Huntsley had not concerned himself with the personal details of her life.
However, she held her tongue as Sophia’s laughter drew everyone’s attention to her. “If you wish to leave, I suspect Lady Lovelace would make an exception for you, Frost,” she teased.
“You are probably right, lovely Sophia,” the earl said, attempting to appear contrite. “Which, of course, is just one more reason to remain. Do you not agree, Lady Grace?”
It was difficult not to like Lord Chillingsworth. Especially when he was trying so hard to win her favor.
“Would you consider it daring of me to disagree, my lord?” she asked flirtatiously.
“Indeed,” he said, moving closer. “My favorite kind of lady.”
“Frost,” Regan said, a crisp reprimand infused in the single word.
The earl’s scrutiny of her face did not falter. “Do not ask me to behave, dear sister. It’s simply not in my nature.”
“Lord Chillingsworth, what are you doing?” Lady Netherley demanded as she quickened her stride to break up any mischief.
“Why, nothing at all, dear lady—yet,” he drawled.
The elderly marchioness’s response was one of predictable indignation on the behalf of the young lady for whom she felt a certain responsibility.
“Well, you wicked man, you will cease this instant!” Lady Netherley raised her walking stick to bar the earl from stepping closer. “Lady Grace is under my protection. I suggestion you tarry with the ladies who are not!”
Lord Chillingsworth brought his fist to his heart. “My dear Lady Netherley, you wound me with your assumptions.”
It was apparent there was affection between the earl and the marchioness.
“I know what you are about,” the older woman said fiercely. “And I will not tolerate it.”
The earl astounded everyone by extending his hand to Grace. “My lady, will you honor me with a dance?”
Sophia frowned and Regan sighed. Apparently, no one expected Lord Chillingsworth to extend the invitation.
Lady Netherley did not mince her words. “Do you think the gossips will hold their tongues?”
The poor woman was worried
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