The Bookseller and the Earl Page 9

  Aunt pounded the floor with her cane. “Speak up, lad. Age has not affected my memory, but it seems to have played a game with my hearing.” She leaned in. “Unless what you said was not intended for my ears, eh?” She cackled like the witch in one of the storybooks she had read to him as a child.

  Once she poured the tea and passed around the biscuits and small sandwiches, she said, “I am happy to see you moving on, you know.”

  Grayson almost choked on his tea “Who said anything about moving on?”

  Aunt Mary studied him over her cup of tea and her wrinkled face softened. “It’s time, young man. Margaret is dead and her treachery died with her.”

  “I don’t wish to talk about it.” Although he was quite sure that was precisely what his aunt had in mind when she invited him.

  He’d spent many a long night going over in his head how he could have missed the fact that his wife was having an affair with his brother.

  His own brother!

  After the first few months of their marriage, Grayson had recognized that Margaret was restless, didn’t seem to settle into a normal married routine. But he loved her, and so he never saw—or didn’t want to see—her discontent.

  When she became pregnant with Michael, he thought that would all end. The thought of her body swelling with his child, and then holding the babe to her breast filled him with awe and happiness.

  But motherhood had been no more appealing than marriage.

  After months of complaining about her fatigue, nausea, and her growing stomach, she had a very easy birth and had gladly handed over the care of their son to a wet nurse and nanny. She pestered him relentlessly until he agreed to leave Michael at his estate in the country and travel to London for the Season. His brother Peter and his wife, Beatrice, soon followed them.

  For months he tried to pretend that everything was fine, that Margaret was just a high-spirited woman who needed the dressing up, gossiping, balls, parties, and everything else that he had been only too happy to give up for a peaceful married life.

  And he loved her.

  Except he’d been blinded by that love. And betrayed by his brother.

  He still remembered the numbness that filled him when he read the note she’d left for him. She was leaving the country with his brother, Peter. He barely had time to digest that information when a member of the London Metropolitan Police arrived at his front door with the news that the carriage they were running away in, had crashed into a brick wall on a sharp turn.

  Killing both of them.

  “Stop brooding, young man.” Aunt Mary pulled him out of his meandering. “Your wife was a harlot and your brother a cad. Put them behind you and think about your son.”

  Grayson ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah, yes. Michael.”

  “A sweet boy who I rarely see.” She scowled at him and took another sip of tea.

  Grayson grinned. “You would frighten him into nightmares.”

  She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “What is happening with Peter’s widow and her foolish claim against the boy?”

  He knew Aunt Mary would bring that up as well. “Nothing right now. My solicitor says she has no chance of succeeding in having Michael declared incompetent and having her son, David, step up as my heir presumptive.”

  “Another reason to marry again, Grayson. If you produce another son, her claim would make no difference. Even if she succeeded in having Michael declared incompetent, another son would nullify her claim.”

  Marry again.

  What, at one time, had been an idea easily dismissed, now did not seem so horrible. Perhaps Addie had something to do with that. Truth be told, she had quite a bit to do with this change in thought.

  He could see himself married to her. They could have a pleasant relationship with respect and fondness.

  Addressing his aunt’s statement, he said, “I feel sorry for Beatrice. She was as much a victim of Peter and Margaret’s treachery as was I.”

  “Bah!” She thumped her cane with relish. “You are too kind. Being betrayed by her husband has no connection to trying to strip a little boy of his future by declaring him incompetent. If anyone is incompetent it’s that dimwitted son of hers.”

  Grayson’s nephew, David Hartley, was a spoiled, incorrigible lad who, at only ten years had already been sent down from Harrow for disciplinary reasons, after he practically killed another student in a fight.

  “Go get yourself married, Grayson. Get your wife with child and produce another son. That will end her nonsense and make you a happier man.”

  When he remained silent, she added, “And your son a happier lad.”

  Chapter Nine

  The day of their meeting with a member of the organization who they hoped would help Michael, had arrived.

  Addie didn’t understand why she was so nervous, but her palms were damp, and she kept patting her upper lip with her handkerchief as Grayson’s carriage made its way through the streets of London to the home of Mr. Gerard Simmons who lived outside of Mayfair.

  Grayson appeared as tense as she felt. He kept adjusting his ascot and clearing his throat. Mrs. Banfield and Michael appeared oblivious to the entire matter with both of them sitting and staring out the window. Michael crawled over Mrs. Banfield and cuddled on Addie’s lap.

  In such a short time, she had already grown to love the little boy. He had Grayson’s eyes, hair, and strong jaw. He would be a handsome man one day. The intelligence and curiosity in his eyes told her he had a very good chance of making a successful life for himself, despite his deafness.

  They pulled up to a lovely townhouse, which had a white door with black trim. A metal snake’s head sat in the middle of the door, with a knocker attached. Grayson helped her and Mrs. Banfield out of the coach and took Addie’s elbow. Mrs. Banfield held Michael’s hand.

  They started up the steps but didn’t get far when the front door opened. A stately looking man, wearing the household livery, opened the door. He was probably somewhere in his fifties and from the looks of his form, he didn’t miss many meals.

  His face was pleasant, and he smiled as they entered. “Good afternoon. Mr. Simmons awaits you all in the drawing room. If you will follow me.” He proceeded to lead them down the corridor past two closed doors. At the third door, he paused and gave a slight knock before sliding the pocket door opened.

  “Sir, your guests have arrived.”

  Mr. Simmons rose from the chair he occupied behind a very large desk where several books were spread open. He was a pleasant man, much younger than Addie would have guessed.

  His dark blond hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it many times. He had deep brown eyes, and a slight scar on his upper lip. His frame was sturdy, but slender. When he smiled, slight wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes and alongside his mouth which told Addie he smiled a great deal,

  His demeanor immediately relaxed her.

  He rounded the desk and approached them. “I assume you are Miss Mallory?” He took her extended hand, gave it a slight squeeze, then turned to Mrs. Banfield. “Mrs. Banfield?”’

  She blushed and nodded. Next, he shook Grayson’s hand, and then turned his attention to Michael. He squatted in front of him and looked him in the eye. “Hello.”

  Michael looked from Mr. Simmons up to Grayson. When his father nodded, the boy looked back at Mr. Simmons and smiled. The man took Michael by the hand and led him to a small glass case that held several butterflies. He pointed to one of the butterflies and turned to Michael. He then crossed his two hands across his chest, with the palms facing his body. He linked his thumbs and made a waving motion with his hands.

  Michael studied him intently. Then Mr. Simmons pointed to the butterflies again and then gestured to Michael. The little boy looked confused, but Mr. Simmons did the same thing again. He helped Michael place his hands in the proper position and showed him how to wave his hands.

  He had him do it three more times. Then he took him by the hand an
d walked him to the desk where he took one of the books off the pile. He closed the book and pointed at it. Then he held his hands together, palm-to-palm, and holding his pinkies together, he opened his hands as if opening a book.

  Michael watched him do it a few times. Then Mr. Simmons pointed to Michael and then gestured to the book.

  Without hesitation, he imitated what Mr. Simmons had done, then looked over at Grayson with a bright smile on his face.

  He understood!

  The lesson continued with Mr. Simmons showing Michael different things in the room, and then using his hands to indicate the object. Addie was amazed at how quickly Michael understood what they were doing.

  She, Mrs. Banfield, and Grayson all shook their heads in amazement at all the things Michael was able to name using his hands. After about fifteen minutes, going back over what they’d done, Mr. Simmons patted Michael on the head and handed him a small piece of candy.

  He indicated the chairs in a grouping in front of the fireplace. The adults had all been so entertained, they had stood the entire time watching Mr. Simmons and Michael.

  Once they were settled in and Michael happily engaged with his sweet, Mr. Simmons said, “My lord, your son is extremely bright. Did you say he was aged four years?”

  “Yes. Last May.”

  Mr. Simmons smiled softly. “And I am quite sure there were those who attempted to have you believe he was an idiot.”

  Grayson scowled. “Yes. That is correct.” Then he turned to gaze upon his son with all the love and pride a parent felt for their child who had just successfully mastered a new and difficult challenge. “But I always knew they were wrong,”

  Addie looked over at Mrs. Banfield who was patting the corners of her eyes. Addie felt a lump growing in her own throat, as well.

  Mr. Simmons returned to his desk and drew a note pad from the middle drawer. Dipping his pen into the inkwell, he asked, “When was your son’s hearing last tested?”

  “About a year ago, when he was still not speaking, I grew concerned. My physician conducted some sort of a test and determined he was deaf.”

  “In both ears?”

  Grayson fidgeted in his seat. “I assume so. You must excuse me, Mr. Simmons. I made the mistake of believing at first, as everyone else was trying to tell me that the lad lacked intelligence. Then I was so relieved when I learned it was deafness that kept him from speaking, I accepted it and did nothing further.”

  Mr. Simmons nodded and continued to write. “Do you remember what sort of test the doctor performed?”

  “It was quite simple, really. He just turned Michael away from him and made various noises.”

  Mr. Simmons shook his head and tsked, but kept busy scribbling in his notepad. “Several years ago, Mr. David Edward Hughs began using an audiometer. With your permission, I would like to set up a meeting with my doctor who has the machine so we can test your son and see if we can determine the degree of deafness he suffers from.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Grayson said, glancing over at Addie who grinned at him. This meeting was going so well that all her nervousness had faded.

  They talked some more and then when they were ready to depart, Mr. Simmons took Michael by the hand and walked him to the center of the room. He gently grasped the boy by the chin so he was looking directly at him. He then made the sign for butterfly.

  At first, Michael just stared at him, then he smiled and raced over to the glass case and pointed to the butterflies. Mr. Simmons continued on until Michael had identified all the items he’d taught him.

  “Yes, my lord.” Mr. Simmons said, patting Michael on the head. “A very bright boy. I will be in touch with the name of a few individuals willing to take on the job of teaching your son.”

  Two days after the meeting with Mr. Simmons, Addie awaited Grayson who was escorting her to a ball. Once it had become known that Lord Berkshire had returned to London, the invitations had begun to pour in with frightening speed. He begged her to attend with him.

  The regular Season had ended, but those left in town preparing for the holiday season kept up a social whirl, albeit a smaller one. Even though Grayson’s wife had died two years before, he had not attended any ton affairs.

  Although he hadn’t said as much, a young, handsome, wealthy, and titled man was a dream come true to marriage-minded mamas and their daughters who had not brought a gentleman up to scratch during the regular Season.

  Why Grayson imagined she would be a deterrent to these ladies remained a mystery to Addie. She’d never held the attention of a man during her Seasons and to think any woman would believe he was courting the London failure was ludicrous.

  But it would be nice for a change to appear on the arm of a sought-after lord as if such a thing happened to her all the time.

  Addie checked herself in the mirror and adjusted the bodice of her gown. The dark wine-colored velvet frock was fitted at her waist and snug around her breasts. The edging of the square-cut bodice and cuffs of the long sleeves had been decorated with gold embroidery,

  How Mother had managed to get a gown made within a few days was surely a miracle. Addie could just imagine what her mother had paid for it in either coin or promises.

  Agnes, her mother’s lady’s maid, had done up Addie’s generally untamed hair into a respectable upsweep hairdo that she braided pearls throughout. Mother had lent her a beautiful ruby necklace and matching earbobs.

  She’d never looked so good, even though she hadn’t shed a pound. With how tight Agnes has pulled her stays the gown looked wonderful, but Addie was already finding it hard to breathe. As little as one country dance and she would collapse from lack of air.

  “Miss, your gentleman has arrived.” Agnes blushed and giggled as she made her announcement from Addie’s open bedroom door.

  Before Addie could mumble, “He’s not my gentleman.” Agnes was gone. Addie sighed and picked up her gloves and reticule. She gasped as she bent over. This was going to be a difficult night.

  Of course, Grayson was closeted with Father in the library when Addie arrived downstairs. Most likely suffering an inquisition as to his income, investments, properties, and overall general health. She would not be surprised to see Father examining Grayson’s teeth.

  She swept into the room to see Father and Grayson sitting comfortably in two chairs facing the fireplace, sipping on brandy as if they’d done it for years.

  Both men stood as she entered. Grayson’s eyes swept over her, his smile growing as he regarded her, then bowed. “You are looking lovely this evening, Miss Mallory.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Addie made a slight dip, which was as much as she could handle without passing out.

  Mother hurried into the room. “Oh, good. You haven’t left yet.” She sailed across the room to stand in front of Addie. She lowered her voice. “This could be your opportunity. Men love to walk in dark gardens with ladies.”

  Addie sputtered. “Mother, whatever do you mean?” Surely, she wasn’t telling her to get herself compromised. Really. Sometimes Mother went just too far.

  Mrs. Banfield had been acting as her chaperone for the trip, but since she was still responsible for Michael, she did not attend evening events. But then, with Addie being an acknowledged spinster and a businesswoman, there wasn’t much that could damage her reputation.

  “Just making a suggestion, dear. No need to get yourself at sixes and sevens.”

  “Would you care for a sherry, Adeline?” Father held up the sherry decanter.

  “We have time if you wish,” Grayson said.

  And give her mother more time to say inappropriate things.

  “No, thank you.”

  Grayson downed the rest of his drink and placed the empty glass on the table next to him. “Then we shall be off.”

  Once they reached the front door, Grayson took her cloak from Grimsley and placed it on her shoulders. The night air was chilly and the area shrouded in fog. They made their way down the stairs to Grayson’s carria
ge.

  “Have a lovely time, dear.” Mother called from the door.

  Grayson had almost swallowed his tongue when Addie entered the library earlier. The gown she wore hugged every single curve on her luscious body. The deep red brought out the creaminess of her skin. But more than that, was the surprise he saw on her face when he complimented her.

  She’d mentioned that she had very little success during her Seasons which baffled him. There should have been hordes of men pursuing her. Why she hadn’t been plucked from the group of young ladies was baffling.

  They settled into his carriage and began the short trek to Lord and Lady Stevenson’s townhouse for the ball. After adjusting her skirts, Addie cleared her throat and looked him in the eye.

  “My lord—”

  “Grayson.”

  “Yes, of course. I believe I explained to you that I am not the most graceful person at a ball.”

  “Yes. You did mention something about walking into a footman.”

  She looked so desolate that he wanted to pull her into his arms, settle her on his lap and tell her whatever problem concerned her, he would fix.

  “I mix up things in my mind. When the dancers are to move in one direction, I can be counted on to go the opposite. It has made more than one partner frustrated, as well as the other dancers in our circle.”

  “I see.” He tried not to smile but her earnest expression reminded him of a small child trying to explain herself out of trouble. “Go on.”

  “That is all. Actually, ‘tis one of the reasons I left London almost a year ago and settled in Bath. I was not very successful.”

  Grayson shook his head. “I do not agree with you, Addie. You moved from your family home to live in another town and opened a bookstore that you run very well. How do you figure you are not successful?”

  “You are missing the point. I am unsuccessful in a ballroom. I am a social tragedy.”

  He could hold it in no longer, he laughed, only to immediately regret it at the slight blush on Addie’s face, and the stiffening of her shoulders. “‘Tis not funny.”