"You wouldn't." He turned to her. "Tell me you wouldn't."
"I'm not sure I shouldn't."
"Rachael, tell me you won't tell her. It would only hurt her feelings."
"You should have thought of that before you made the offer." She stared at him for a moment while he shifted uncomfortably. "All right. I won't tell her. Unless she ends up engaged to the man, at which point I think it will be in her best interests to know, whether it hurts her feelings or not."
"Thank you," he said, not sure what he was thanking her for, since in all likelihood Castleton would ask for Juliana's hand and then Rachael would go running to her. But maybe not. And at least she wasn't running to her now.
They walked to the next room, but it turned out to be a small family dining chamber. "Whatever made you think of offering a horse for your sister?" she asked, continuing down the corridor.
He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I think I was a little foxed."
"Well, it's a good thing you're not a heavy drinker." She stopped before another open door. "Ah, the library." Taking a deep breath, she entered and walked over to a long leather sofa. She turned and sat carefully, folding her hands in her lap. "A few weeks ago you asked if I wanted you to help me find my father. I was wondering how you'd propose to do that. Seeing as he's dead, I mean."
Although he was relieved to be on a different subject, he hated to see her so apprehensive. Leaving the door open, he joined her on the sofa. "He might not be dead," he suggested.
"In the letter I found, Mama referred to herself as a widow."
"The letter could have been deliberately misleading," Griffin pointed out, and then, seeing hope leap into her eyes, hurriedly added, "although it probably wasn't. But in either case, I may be able to help you discover his identity."
"How?" She coughed, then sniffled. "Mama left no other letters that mentioned anything about an earlier marriage. Her parents died young, and after her sister died when I was but a child, she had no family left. She never even had any close friends other than your folks—Mama always kept to herself, do you remember? I wouldn't know where to start."
"Her things? Did she keep nothing to remind her of her previous husband?"
"Nothing at all. I went through everything when I cleaned out her rooms to ready them for Noah."
Noah, Rachael's younger brother, had recently come of age and taken responsibility for the earldom—a responsibility Rachael had borne on her own since the tender age of fifteen. Rachael was intelligent and competent. If she'd found nothing, there was likely nothing to find.
But now that she was willing to pursue the subject, Griffin didn't want to give up so easily. "Perhaps you missed something. Or saw something but didn't recognize it as a clue."
She looked dubious. "There was nothing, Griffin."
"Would it hurt to look again?" If he could judge by her expression, it very well might. "I'll go through your mother's things with you," he offered. "I might notice something you missed."
She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her nose. "All of Mama's things are at Greystone," she said on a sigh, referring to her family's country estate. "Perhaps we can go through them at Christmas."
As much as Rachael clearly wished to put this off, he couldn't bear to see her unhappiness last until Christmas. It was so against her nature. "Christmas is six months away—"
"I'll think about it," she said, standing suddenly. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going home."
THIRTY-NINE
AUNTS AURELIA and Bedelia had been thrilled when James asked them if they might help out at the Institute. They'd arrived at New Hope to be trained first thing after breakfast Saturday morning and taken to their tasks with great enthusiasm, running his reception room with a precision he hadn't witnessed since his stint in the military. As a result, James had vaccinated more patients in a day than he usually did in three.
At four o'clock, before his aunts departed to ready themselves for the Teddington ball, he'd penciled their names on his schedule, careful to make sure their assigned shifts wouldn't overlap and run him ragged. Then he'd gone home to change, decided to rest his feet and close his eyes for just a moment, and awakened four hours later.
By the time he dressed and left, it was past ten o'clock. He arrived at the ball very late and a tad grumpy. When Occlestone happened to swagger by the door as he walked in, his piggish nose high in the air, it took everything James had not to snarl. But he knew he'd feel better after sharing the day's success with Juliana, assuming she was no longer moody.
Unfortunately, Lady Amanda buttonholed him before he could find out.
He hadn't even been announced yet—he'd barely handed his things to the footman manning the cloakroom—when she approached him, wringing her hands. "Lord Stafford, where have you been? One of Lady Teddington's guests is terribly ill."
Absurdly, he noticed she wasn't wearing gloves. And she looked quite distressed. She was usually so cool and aloof, he couldn't imagine her caring enough about anyone's illness to appear so troubled. She seemed to have no close friends, except for—
"Is it Juliana?" he asked, his heart suddenly beating double time.
"No. Let me show you to her." Bypassing the ballroom, she hurried him down a corridor.
"It's another lady, then? What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know." She turned into a room and swung to him so fast he all but bumped into her. "Kiss me," she said, and then, throwing her arms around him, she pressed her lips to his.
Addled, he froze for a stunned moment. When his wits began returning, he seemed to have only enough brainpower to marvel that he'd never before kissed a woman and felt nothing.
