He hemmed and hawed and clucked his tongue, clearly reluctant to put Lord Cainewood's sister in a hackney coach. Corinna crossed her arms, knowing he would eventually comply. But before that happened, the knocker banged, and Adamson opened the door to reveal a messenger with a letter.
"Ah," the butler said, looking not at all displeased to have an excuse to put off hailing a cab. "It's directed to you, Lady Corinna."
She grabbed it and broke the seal, swiftly scanning the missive.
My Dear Lady Corinna,
I am sorry to inform you that circumstances prevent my sister, Lady Avonleigh, from accompanying you to the Royal Academy this afternoon. Unfortunately, I cannot do so in her place. Please accept my sincerest apologies.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Balmforth
"Circumstances? What's that supposed to mean?" Corinna sighed. "It seems I need paper instead of a hackney. I must send a note to Alexandra."
FORTY-FIVE
"I DON'T KNOW where to begin, Lady Avonleigh."
Rachael hadn't expected to be nervous. But now that Lady A was finally home and they were all seated in her peach drawing room, she didn't know what to say.
Sitting across from her in a peach wing chair, Lady A gave her a kind smile. "Through the years I've learned what's important. Both of my sisters are here, and I just came from seeing James, which means all the people I love most are healthy. I cannot imagine anything you could tell me that could be so terribly bad."
"Oh, it isn't bad." Rachael clenched her hands in her lap. "At least, I'm hoping you won't think it's bad. I'm hoping you'll think—"
"Say it already," Griffin interjected, sitting on the sofa beside her. He'd seemed a bit annoyed that they'd had to wait so long, but that was his fault; if they'd come early, as she'd wanted to, they wouldn't have had to wait at all. "Good God, I've never seen you so flustered. You're always so levelheaded and composed."
Was that what he thought? She'd never felt that way inside. But she rather liked him having that opinion of her. And he was right: She needed to just say it.
"You're my grandmother," she told Lady Avonleigh in a rush. "I'm Georgiana's daughter."
Lady A looked at her. Her face went rather white, and from across the room she just looked at Rachael, making her feel very uneasy. It was rather awkward, really. She'd been picturing Lady Avonleigh welcoming her with open arms. She'd been picturing them shopping together.
Griffin leaned closer. "Maybe she's a bit peeved because she hasn't had her luncheon yet," he whispered.
What a stupid comment. Rachael was about to elbow him when Lady Balmforth finally broke the silence. "You cannot be Georgiana's daughter," she said, not unkindly. "Our Georgiana jumped off the London Bridge."
"She must have pretended to jump off the London Bridge and then run away and married my father. I mean, not my real father, but the man who raised me."
The awkward silence resumed. Rachael glanced back to Lady A, but her grandmother was still just looking at her. No matter how much she wanted to be welcomed with open arms, it was clear that wasn't going to happen. Griffin wrapped one of his own arms around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, taking the comfort he offered, forgiving him for being annoyed and saying the stupid things men often said.
"Who is that, dear?" Lady Cavanaugh asked. "Who was the father who raised you?"
"John Chase," Rachael replied. "The Earl of Greystone."
And Lady Avonleigh suddenly came to life. "What did you say?"
"John Chase, the Earl—"
"Oh, my goodness!" she squealed, and then she rose from her chair and rushed over to the sofa and welcomed Rachael with open arms. Probably the most welcoming arms Rachael had ever felt. They clung together, and Rachael inhaled her grandmother's gardenia perfume, remembering her mother smelling the same.
Griffin moved to Lady A's chair so she could share the sofa with her granddaughter. Tears ran down both their faces, and they just held on to each other for a good long while. Until Lady B leaned over and tapped her older sister on the shoulder.
"What convinced you?" she demanded.
"My daughter was in love with John Chase," Lady A said tearily. At last she released Rachael and held her hand tightly instead. "My husband and I wouldn't let her marry him."
"That's right!" Lady C exclaimed. "I'd forgotten."
The whole story came out.
John Cartwright had been a second son. While a young man in the army before his marriage, a soldier named Thomas Grimbald had saved his life on a battlefield in Germany during the Seven Years' War. Cartwright had granted the man a boon, and Grimbald wanted his newborn son married to the aristocrat's firstborn daughter. After Cartwright's older brother died, he'd sold out of the military and become the Earl of Avonleigh and married Aurelia. They'd had a daughter, Alice, who was promised to Grimbald's son. And a son, who'd sadly drowned at twenty-one, and another daughter, Georgiana.
"How did Georgiana end up married to Grimbald," Griffin asked, "if Alice was promised to him?"
"Alice fell in love with her cousin," Lady A explained. "Her father forbade her to marry him, but they eloped to Gretna Green. Then my husband cut her out of our lives. I've heard she eventually died, but I've never really known what happened to her—"
"I know!" Rachael said. "I knew Aunt Alice. We saw her all the time. I know what happened to her. She had a child before she died, a little boy named Edmund." She wouldn't tell Lady A that the child had been crippled and unable to talk. Not now, at least. "After that, Mama raised Edmund, but he, too, died a few years later."
Her grandmother's eyes glazed with tears. "Was she happy in her marriage, my Alice?"
"I think so. I was young when she passed away, but she never seemed
