A growl rumbled in his throat. “You’ll be alone at night in a houseful of men who’ve been drinking to excess.”
She waved away his concern. “Like you, all the men will be in the ballroom or gardens, drinking to excess there. I’ll be perfectly safe. Tomorrow morning I’ll search you out and let you know if I found the necklace. Oh!” She stepped toward him. “I’ll have heard back from Ada by then, too, and will have a list of names to speed up the interview process.”
“Hen,” he said, reaching for her. His hand stopped moments before touching her, hovering near the curve at her waist. Despite the miniscule distance, and despite the layers of clothing separating their skin, she felt his heat like hot coals. “Tell me what I—”
“No need to thank me!” Did she sound bright enough? Chipper enough? She needed the false happiness to stem the tide of words she didn’t want to hear. Her heart felt too full with him so close, too willing to forget. If she stayed here—letting him look at her, almost touch her—she’d dissolve into a fit of tears. That would never do.
He reached for her again. “Hen, tell me about the other eng—”
Again, she danced away from him, forced a cheery tone. “And no need to worry, my lord. If it’s still here, I’ll find the necklace tonight.” And if she didn’t, she’d find another way to help locate the necklace, a way that didn’t involve being in the same room as him.
She patted his shoulder twice, touching him to prove to herself she could do so without giving in to the desire to take that simple touch further, then bounced away, leaving him behind her without another word. When one bounced, no one noticed how close one was to tears.
Chapter 11
Grayson should already have been downstairs. The Duchess of Valingford despised tardiness in every form. He’d have to weather her foul looks. But it couldn’t be helped. He had multiple goals to conquer that evening, and Henrietta’s safety was not the least of them.
He cleared his throat and Willems flicked his eyes upward, the only acknowledgement Grayson could expect.
“As you are aware,” Grayson began, “I have come to Hill House on a mission.”
Willems nodded. Or at least Grayson thought he did.
“Get the necklace and propose to the Lady Willow.”
The valet continued to brush the lint from Grayson’s evening jacket.
Grayson continued. “The problem is”—he cleared his throat again—“the necklace disappeared at last year’s house party.”
Willems’s eyes widened, a miniscule movement and for only the briefest period of time. His hands stilled a fraction of a moment before he continued delinting Grayson’s shoulders. A massive reaction for the man. But he soon continued as if nothing had ever happened.
“Precisely,” Grayson said. “You understand. I have been attempting over the last several days to ascertain the exact whereabouts of the necklace.” He waited in vain for an answer, but Willems laid down the lint brush and turned to inspect Grayson’s cravat. “You understand, also, that this hunt must take place with the utmost discretion.”
Willems didn’t lift his eyes from Grayson cravat when he said, “And interviewing the maids is discreet?”
The man had a point. Discretion was a dukely trait he’d not managed to conquer in the last year, apparently. He would have to tackle it later, but for now, he needed to be in three places at once, and that required the assistance of his valet.
“This evening,” Grayson said, “as you know, the entire house congregates in the ballroom. Other than the servants, the upper floors of the house will be empty. Miss Blake is helping me find the necklace and sees this as an opportune moment to search the bedrooms.” He frowned, pulling away from Willems’s fingers as they tightened the already stifling cravat. “You see my concern, I hope. I don’t feel right letting Miss Blake sneak through darkened hallways alone in a house full of drunken men, especially when part of the house is closed off for improvements. Who knows how many ways there are for her to be injured? And as I do not wish Miss Blake injury, and as such an injury would bring more unwanted attention to our search for the necklace, I hoped”—he cleared his throat a third time—“I hoped you would keep an eye on her this evening while I entertain Lady Willow and her mother at the dance.” He paused. “I would like to ensure Miss Blake’s safety myself, but I’ve made promises, and I cannot cry off.”
Willems didn’t move from the corner of the room where he stood straight as Wellington himself, hands clasped behind his back. “A gentleman never does.”
Grayson flinched. Ultimately, he would cry off, abandoning his courtship of Lady Willow. But for now, for now he could make sure she felt as comfortable as possible, that no scent of the sure-to-come scandal touched her. He could do his best to reduce the scandal as much as possible. “Yes. Well. So, ahem, Willems, will you take care of Miss Blake, then?” He needed her safe. Their heated interlude behind the stables—the kiss he’d been trying for days to avoid but that she’d willingly initiated in a few consuming seconds—had been too brief, and he wouldn’t be able to revisit it if she fell to her death.
“May I speak freely, my lord?” Willems said.
“Please!”
“I’ve family in Manchester, where Miss Blake’s father’s factories are. She’s done much good for the children there. No one goes without warm and whole clothes if she can help it. I’ll watch over her.”
Grayson stared, mouth open. He’d never heard a longer speech from the man, and they’d been together over a decade. And all in support of Henrietta. The worry that had settled heavy on Grayson’s shoulders when she’d said she planned to wander the dark halls alone this night lifted a bit. She would be safe. And he could keep his promises to Lady Willow.
The only difficulty now lay in the third place he needed to be that evening—wherever Tobias Blake hid. Grayson had heard the man had arrived at Hill House, but he’d not yet seen a trace of him. Tobias could never resist a party, and Grayson needed to speak with him. Henrietta did not speak of any engagement to any man other than Grayson, and the knowledge of it filled him with urgent curiosity. He couldn’t, now, quite believe she would ever have moved on so quickly. Tobias would have the answers.
Energy bounded through Grayson. Much would be accomplished this evening. He bounded out the door, peeking his head back into the room to say, “Don’t let Miss Blake go too far away from the house. Or into the closed-off areas of the house. Or”—his eyes rolled around, searching for other dangerous possibilities—“up onto the roof.”
Willems lifted a single eyebrow. “The roof, my lord?”
Grayson shrugged. “Prepare yourself.”
