Read Blinded by Grace: Book Five of the Cotillion Ball series (Crimson Romance) Online
Authors: Becky Lower
“Mother, please. Father has plenty to keep up with without you meddling in the bank’s business.”
“You may call it meddling, but I call it good parenting. If you need time to find yourself a wife, I’m sure your father won’t mind absorbing some of your duties for a few months.”
Despite his precarious predicament, Halwyn blew out a long breath as he grinned at his mother. “Now I understand what Ginger, Heather, and Jasmine went through. You are tenacious once your mind is made up. Those poor women you foisted on me last night were every bit as embarrassed as I was. But, I promise you, I don’t need your help.”
“We’ll see,” Charlotte replied as she turned and strode from the room. Halwyn sighed, as he realized this season was not going to be an easy one for him. His mother had big plans, and last night was merely the tip of the iceberg. He had to do something fast, or his mother’s machinations from last night would be repeated incessantly for the next few months.
In the couple of days since the Cotillion, Grace had been to the theater with her mother and stepfather, and had been riding in the park with her lady’s maid. In both instances, she searched eagerly for Halwyn, hoping to talk to him again. Her plan was coming together, at least in her mind, and Halwyn was going to play a vital part. But she needed to talk to him, and explain what she was proposing, before anything could happen. Sadly, he was absent each time, although his parents were in attendance at the theater. Mrs. Fitzpatrick had always been a favorite of Grace’s, and she was eager to renew their friendship. She approached Charlotte Fitzpatrick at the dessert table after the performance.
“Mrs. Fitzpatrick, how nice to see you again,” Grace said.
“Yes, my dear, it’s been far too long since you’ve paid us a visit.” She gave Grace a warm hug. “Although Heather and Jasmine are both married now, and off on their own, you’re still welcome for tea anytime. I’d love for us to catch up with each other.”
“I’ll have to plan on a visit. Now, which of these desserts do you have your eye on?”
Charlotte’s gaze flickered over the array of confections spread out before them. “I’m not much for chocolate, but the lemon tart seems to be calling to me.”
Grace smiled. “Well, chocolate and I get along just fine, so I’ll take a slice of the dark layered cake.”
They sat, and each took a bite. “Perfection,” Charlotte declared. “Now, tell me dear, how has the season been for you so far?”
Sophie Huffman interrupted their quiet conversation as she took the seat next to her daughter. “Good evening, Charlotte. It’s good to see you again. We’ve been so busy, trying to get our dear Grace married off, we haven’t had time to just pay a social call. We’ll have to schedule you in.”
“Well, Jasmine and Parr are planning a weekend party when the racetrack opens for the season in May, so I’ll be certain you get an invitation. Perhaps we can catch up ‘socially’ then.” Charlotte’s voice had a bit of frost to it, not that Grace blamed her. Grace’s mother was being rude, and Grace would not be the least bit offended if Charlotte recanted on her invitation. But it would be a perfect opportunity for her plan to morph from an idea into reality if she did spend the weekend with the Fitzpatricks. She’d have to do what she could to help push the invitation along, despite her mother’s attitude.
“I regret not being able to spend more time with Jasmine, but between her dress shop and her husband, she doesn’t have a great many hours to spare anymore. Perhaps I’ll stop into the store and see her in the next few weeks.”
Charlotte reached out and took Grace’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Jasmine would love to see you. She misses her twin sister, and would enjoy your company, I’m positive. You know she’s pregnant now, with their first child? And she’s become such an expert at taking last year’s gowns and reinventing them, you’d be surprised at what she can do. It only makes sense to repurpose old gowns, given the state of this economy, which is going to get worse, I’m afraid, if war does happen. You should let her work on one of your dresses.”
Grace could feel the heat rising to her face. She had hoped no one would notice she had not had new clothing in three years. Charlotte gave her an easy explanation, stating it was due to the unstable economy they were living in, but Grace was aware of the real reason. Tears pricked her eyes at Charlotte’s comments, as kind as they were. She blinked quickly a few times to hold them at bay. Her mother would never again see her cry. Or know exactly how much her behavior hurt, since she wouldn’t stand up against Simon for her only daughter. Grace would not give her stepfather the satisfaction he was searching for. She straightened her spine before she turned back to Charlotte Fitzpatrick.
“Yes, I may do that, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Lord knows I have more than a few dresses I’m sick of wearing. And, I suppose, others are sick of seeing me in them. An update sounds most appealing. And I’d love to see Jasmine again.”
George Fitzpatrick moved to the group of women, in order to reclaim his wife. He bowed over Grace’s hand and held it for a long moment as he straightened back up. His eyes twinkled as he gazed at her.
“Halwyn told me his new eyeglasses were responsible for him finding you the other night at the dance. It’s a shame he’s been walking around nearly blind the past few years, and no one realized it. That’s the only possible explanation for him not noticing you before now.”
Grace’s cheeks once again grew warm, but this time it wasn’t in embarrassment. She had always been fond of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and she recognized they were both trying to be helpful. Had she been a topic of conversation between Halwyn and them? However it happened, she was grateful someone recognized her dilemma. Maybe her plan would work after all.
“Thank you, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I had a good time at the ball, getting reacquainted with Halwyn after all these years.”
Her mother began to tug on Grace’s arm. “Simon’s ready to leave, so let’s not dawdle. Charlotte and George, it’s been nice talking to you.” She pulled Grace away from the couple. Grace took one backward glance and mouthed a silent apology. Charlotte Fitzpatrick had her hand on her heart as Grace was forcibly led from the room.
Halwyn’s eyes narrowed as he studied his assistant, Feldon, at the bank.
“You are saying Grace Wagner is here to see me? And she’s alone? In the bank? Make yourself clear, man.”
Feldon was visibly shaking, and took a huge gulp of breath. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I tried to get her to leave before she caused a scene, but she refused, claiming she wouldn’t go anywhere without seeing you first. She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if someone was after her. I put her in the private room downstairs, so no one would see her while I came up to tell you. I hope that was the right thing to do.”
Halwyn rose from the seat behind his massive oak desk. “Yes, Feldon, you made the correct decision. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. It’s just so odd, what you are saying. I’ll go see her now.” He rose from his desk and began to walk toward the door. “Did she say what the nature of her business was?”
Feldon’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and he stopped shaking. “Yes, sir. She said to tell you she was here to talk to you about her father’s trust.”
Halwyn’s heart kicked into a different gear. Grace had come to see him. Maybe now he could get to the bottom of what was going on with her. And to catch a whiff of her lilac scent again. He’d nearly forgotten about her father’s holdings at the bank, since his father handled all the dealings with the dreaded Simon Huffman, who currently held the reins to the trust.
“Why don’t you escort Miss Wagner up here to my office instead, so we won’t be seen or interrupted?”
Feldon blinked at him. Halwyn was aware that being alone with Grace, be it here or in the little room downstairs off the main lobby, was inappropriate behavior. But she had been in his thoughts for days now, and he wanted to get to the bottom of her situation, whatever it might be. And to do so, he had to make her feel comfortable and safe, and to get her away from prying eyes. He nodded at Feldon.
“Now, man.”
“Yes, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” Feldon scurried down the hall. A few minutes later, he was back, with Grace Wagner at his heels. She walked briskly, the gray pinstriped satin skirt of her afternoon dress swishing at the movement.
She was pale. Her skin had a translucent quality to it. Maybe it was merely the stark difference between her pale coloring and her dark hair that made her appear fragile. Halwyn glanced at her, hoping she wasn’t about to faint here in his office. Her blue eyes were clear, however. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.
“Grace, how nice to see you again.”
“I apologize for barging into your place of business, Halwyn, but I couldn’t think of any other way to speak to you alone.”
“No apologies necessary. You’re a family friend, and you have holdings at the bank, so you’re welcome here anytime. Unlike some other banks, we welcome female customers. Please take a seat.”
He motioned to the chair in front of his desk, then walked behind the desk and sat again. Feldon stood in the doorway, uncertain what his next move should be.
“Thank you, Feldon. I’ll take it from here. Please close the door. We’ll need a few minutes.”
Feldon swallowed hard and gave them a sidelong glance before he closed the door.
“Do you mind if I smoke, Grace?” Halwyn held a thin cigar between his fingers and motioned in her direction.
“No, not at all,” she replied quietly. “I rather enjoy the scent of tobacco.”
He made a grand show of lighting the cigar, and puffing to get it going properly. All the while, he was observing her as she sat rigidly before him, with a handkerchief in her hands. She was plucking at the cloth. The poor square of fabric would be in tatters before she left the room, if she continued in such a manner. Grace’s head was bowed, and she wasn’t talking. Halwyn had no idea why she was here, but he wanted to calm her.
“Grace,” he whispered, leaning over the desk.
She glanced up at him, startled, even though he had spoken softly.
“What is wrong? And how can I help?”
She blinked, but not so quickly that Halwyn hadn’t noticed the tears in her eyes. She was refusing to let them spill over, although he guessed the handkerchief was there for the purpose of catching them, if necessary.
Good girl. Whatever your problem is, you’re not giving in.
He nodded silently in her direction, indicating she had his full attention. She lowered her eyes again.
“I, I don’t know where to begin, but you’re my only hope Halwyn.” He caught the choking sound of her voice as she uttered these words.
“Why don’t you tell me what the problem is? Take your time, and start at the beginning.”
Halwyn settled back into his chair. He had a feeling they were going to need far longer than a few minutes.
• • •
Grace took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “When my father died three years ago, he left a trust for me. I’m sure you’re aware of it, since it is here at the bank.”
“I only know about it in the vaguest terms, since my father is the one who deals with Simon. Is something wrong with the trust?”
“It’s not the bank’s fault, Halwyn. That’s not why I’m here. But yes, there is something terribly wrong with the trust.” Her voice caught in her throat and she glanced up at him. He was leaning over his desk, peering at her.
She hesitated in her speech, and once again her gaze dropped into her lap. Halwyn ground out the cheroot and rose, leaving behind the decorum of having a desk between them. He took a seat beside her and took one of her hands in his, preventing her from tearing her handkerchief apart.
“What is it, Grace?”
She took a deep breath, relaxing a bit for the first time since she arrived in the room. His touch calmed her. She tightened her hold on his hand as she stole a glance at his profile.
“The trust stipulates, in very specific language, when I turn twenty-one years of age, the entire amount will be transferred to me and my husband.”
Halwyn entwined his fingers between hers. “Not quite, Grace. The standard wording of any trust stipulates that the funds will revert to you alone upon your twenty-first birthday. If you are married by that time, of course, it is understood the funds will become part of your husband’s holdings.”
Grace’s eyes once more filled with tears, which she blinked away. “The wording of my trust has been slightly altered, Halwyn. And the slight alteration is making all the difference. It clearly states it will revert to me
and my husband.
If there is no husband, it will become my mother’s money, and hence, Simon’s.”
“Good heavens, no. If you come of age and are not married, the entirety of the trust will revert to you. You’ll be a wealthy woman.”
“Well, Simon is interpreting the clause differently. He’s taken the wording to an attorney and it has been verified by this gentleman that Simon’s interpretation is sound. Now, all he need do is prevent me from marrying before July, when I reach my twenty-first birthday. Then the trust will revert to him.” She expelled a long breath, and sat back, placing her fate in Halwyn’s hands.
He adjusted his new glasses as he pondered her situation. Her stomach jumped as she observed his mannerisms. Other than the couple of dances they’d had together, she hadn’t ever been this close to him. And never alone with him as they were now. Scandalous behavior, to be sure, but absolutely necessary. Her plight was so precarious; she’d risk the loss of her reputation if that was what was needed. No wonder her stomach was upset. Her predicament with the trust was only one of the reasons. The man sitting next to her, holding her hand, was the other. She had dreamed of this for years. And now, it was finally happening. She and Halwyn were alone together. She didn’t care if he didn’t speak. She’d take every moment she could get with him.
After a few quiet moments, he cleared his throat. “I’m no solicitor, Grace, but I’m pretty certain Simon’s interpretation of the terms of the trust would never hold up in a court of law.”
“Yes, it will. He’s already gotten the official word from a lawyer. All he needs to do is prevent me from finding a husband in the next few months.”