replaced with a tea service that both Grace and Cat were absently enjoying.
“Ladies,” he said as he entered and saw Grace jump slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” Grace said, but Marcello noticed her hands were now loosening a tight grip on a piece of paper. She cleared her throat. “We’re just finalizing the guest list and invitations.”
Marcello walked over and stood behind Grace as he took a look at the list of titled and untitled names. Her scent wafted over him, distracting him, but his photographic memory easily picked up the names and tucked them away for later; he would do another round of digging before they arrived.
“Quite a few Lords attending tonight,” Marcello said as Grace fidgeted in her seat; was she uncomfortable around him or just men in general?
“And more than one Lady,” Cat said as she finished addressing a letter with a flourish.
“Yes, I know,” Grace said with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m going to make sure Cat talks to all the single Lords in attendance.”
“Grace!” Cat said. “I don’t need your help finding someone.”
Marcello quirked a brow and asked Cat, “You told her?”
“Yes, because I needed a sympathetic ear. What I do not need, however, is a matchmaker.”
Grace chuckled lightly and sound sent a shimmer of heat through him. “I’m no matchmaker, believe me. I just think you shouldn’t waste an opportunity when you’re on such a tight timeframe.”
Cat scowled but ignored Grace’s comment, choosing instead to focus on addressing another letter. “There will be plenty of married Lords, too, won’t there, with their Lady wives in attendance? Won’t you be glad to see them?”
“Yes, well, maybe some of them,” Grace said as a frown marred her brow. Before Marcello could think about it, he had lifted his hand to smooth it away. She gasped and he pulled back; a quick glance at Cat let him know that his move had gone unnoticed.
“Why does that upset you, Grace?” Marcello asked.
“It’s nothing. I’ve never been a very a competent ‘Lady’, that’s all,” she said with a sigh. Before Marcello could protest her self-deprecation, though he had a feeling it was much more, she spoke again.
“We’ve almost got everything sorted. I’ve asked my staff at Raynott Hall to come over and help. That should take care of the cleaning, cooking, and landscaping,” she said, counting off tasks with her fingers. “I’ve got some footmen hand-delivering the invites as soon as we’re finished with them. Oh!” she said spinning around.
“What is it?” Marcello asked, ready to slay dragons for her based on the wild look on her face.
“Do you both have eveningwear? I didn’t think to ask sooner. I’m always forgetting things like that,” she said and her hands twisted around each other.
This time, Marcello didn’t care that Cat was watching. He took her hands in his and held them softly, gently rubbing his thumb over her soft skin and slim fingers. He had to resist kissing them, as he wanted to do.
“Relax, Grace. We’ll be perfectly fine,” he said, his gaze locked with hers.
“Of course we are,” Cat said, giving them both a curious gaze. “I’m a princess; I never leave home without an evening gown.”
Grace blinked twice then, finally taking in what Cat had said. She smiled and started laughing; Marcello couldn’t help but smile back at her. “You laugh,” Marcello said. “But it’s true.”
“And you have a suit you can wear?” Grace asked, fixing her gaze on him again; he could lose himself in those eyes if he wasn’t careful. Being careful, however, had never held less appeal to him than it did now.
“I do,” he said and had a flash of himself, holding hands with Grace at an altar saying those same words. The thought had him letting go of her hands and stepping back. “I’ve got a