An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Fourteen: Prelude to a Kiss

As soon as it was polite, James made his excuses to leave the rest of the men at the table and went to the drawing room to see if he could catch a moment to speak to Grace. It had been his object for many weeks to make her really angry with him, and he had finally succeeded, but his victory was dulled by the confusion he felt as to how he had succeeded. He wanted to know why she was so angry with him now when he'd done so much worse before to no effect. Something must have happened at the musicale that he was not aware of. James could not imagine what, but he was fairly sure he knew who. Grace, however, was not in the drawing room. Ellen sat alone there reading a novel. In response to James's inquiry, she said that Grace had gone to bed with a headache. Then she patted the seat beside her.

"Do sit down and tell me about you," she said. "Grace has not been forthcoming."

James could not say no. He sat down reluctantly. "What do you want to know? I can tell you, I'm no huntsman. Your husband will be disappointed."

"I'm sure you are only being humble."

"I wish I were, but I can assure you, my marksmanship is unparalleled by all but blind drunks."

Ellen giggled in a manner reminiscent of Emma. "How very droll!"

With an inward sigh, James realized that Ellen was stupid. The week ahead looked suddenly very grim: hunting and the company of hunting men like Mr Montague, or society at home with the company of a giggling, stupid woman and a silent, angry one.

Ellen twiddled the tassel of a cushion around her plump forefinger. "Do tell me, Mr Redwood, are you and Grace having a little tiff?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"How dreadful." Ellen looked shocked. "She told me, you know, that you drank too much last night and embarrassed her. Poor Gracie. She hates more than anything else to be embarrassed, you know. Such a proud little creature, she always was. Like a cat."

"I never much liked cats. Nasty little hissy things."

Ellen shot James a narrow look then smiled. "But you do like Grace. You can't mean you don't like Grace. You're going to marry her."

James cleared his throat. "Um, yes. But, you know, Mrs Montague, I'm not sure Grace likes me at all."

"I can't imagine why," Ellen murmured. "You seem such a nice young man. No, I'm sure you've only made her feel embarrassed. You must make up to her. I'm sure I won't tell if you cut some flowers from the garden for her — not that we've got many right now." She bit her lip. "Mr Montague gave me a cabbage once, but I don't think it would do for Grace."

"I doubt the entire farm could do it," James said.

"No, no. She's afraid of cows." Ellen shook her head. "Maybe you could buy her a new hat ribbon?"

"I'm not sure a hat ribbon could do it either. To be blunt, Mrs Montague, I suspect your sister is marrying me despite the fact that she dislikes me very much indeed."

Ellen blinked. "She couldn't possibly dislike you. She really is a very pleasant creature, Mr Redwood. She never makes trouble, or loses her temper. She is always tolerant and sweet."

James thought back to the way Grace had dealt with Mr Blythe earlier that night. She had been close to losing her temper then. "...Is she?"

"Oh yes. Ever since she was a child, you know, she's been this way."

"I've always thought her less tolerant than... a little cold-hearted."

"No, no. Not at all. You can't mistake her patience for coldness. She's merely slow to express her feelings. Would you prefer a virago?"