Grace by Deneane Clark Page B

the first room he found, a frilly, feminine salon with intricately carved furniture and knickknack-covered tables, a fussy room of the sort Trevor hated. He noticed, however, a large sideboard of drinks near the fireplace. He walked inside, poured himself a generous brandy, then sat gingerly in one of the impossibly fragile chairs that littered the room, waiting for the maid to come from wherever Greaves had gone to fetch her. Fortunately he did not have long to wait. In a matter of moments a small, round, frightened-looking girl with her mobcap set crazily askew atop her head stepped into the room.
    “My lord?” Becky curtsied, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her black skirts. She was quite terrified at thethought of confronting the strange man Greaves had only just described to her as “rather unfortunately demented.”
    Annoyed, because whatever the butler had told Becky about him had obviously scared her to death, Trevor did not even look at the girl, merely held his glass up to the light and slowly moved his hand in a circle. “Who is your mistress?” he asked evenly, watching the amber liquid swirl in the flickering light from the candles.
    “Miss Ackerly, your lordship,” the maid immediately answered.
    Trevor shook his head, smiling grimly.“Would that be Miss Grace or Miss Faith Ackerly?” he asked with a resigned sigh.
    Becky blinked. “Both, my lord,” she replied in confusion.
    Suppressing a new urge to throttle the now conspicuously absent butler, Trevor moved on patiently. “Of course. Very good. Perhaps, then, you can be of some assistance to me. Do you happen to know where Miss Grace has gone this evening?”
    “Almack’s, my lord,” the girl immediately replied, visibly relieved that she could answer his question. “And afterward they were to go to a ball at the home of Lord and Lady Seth.”
    Trevor nodded briskly. “Thank you,” he said in a short, dismissive tone.
    Becky stood waiting for a moment, then realized he no longer required her presence. She curtsied quickly and vanished, more than happy to take her leave of the strange nobleman.
    Trevor watched her go and shook his head. Wednesday night. Almack’s.
    He took a final swallow of his brandy and gritted his teeth. The evening looked more and more grim. Of all the places he had hoped to find Grace this evening, he would have placed Almack’s at the bottom of the list. The moment he set foot in those exalted rooms, he would find himselfset upon by a multitude of matchmaking mamas and their sometimes less-than-demure daughters, all of whom hoped the same impossible hope: to snare the elusive Earl of Huntwick, considered the best matrimonial catch in England for several Seasons. Actually, he amended to himself without rancor, with Sebastian’s newly acquired ducal title, Trevor would now be considered the second-best catch. He grinned for the first time since entering the Egerton house, happy to relinquish the label.
    He set his glass on a table and walked slowly from the salon, toying with the idea of going to White’s and playing a few hands, then catching up with Grace at Lord Seth’s. After a moment’s further thought, he decided against it. White’s would likely be short of good company tonight. Lord Jonathon Lloyd, the Earl of Seth, and his younger brother, Gareth, two of Trevor’s closest friends, would certainly not put in an appearance. If Amanda Lloyd planned to give a ball tonight, her husband would be at her side. She had probably roped in her young brother-in-law to help, as well. Trevor smiled affectionately at the thought of the staid Earl of Seth’s beautiful, effervescent young wife. He would enjoy seeing them again tonight.
    His mind made up, Trevor walked back to the front door. The elderly butler who had so annoyed him a few moments ago now sat in a chair near the entrance, snoring peacefully, his chin resting against his chest. Giving the sleeping man a scathing look, Trevor quietly opened the