Free A Chance Encounter by Mary Balogh Page B

nurse, of course. I used to be terrified of Gram. A crusty old bird, Papa always called her, and I always felt the description fit.”
    He had gone on to explain how his grandmother, Lady Bothwell, had never treated him like a child, but always conversed with him as if he were a sensible adult. She had demanded a great deal of him and had occasionally referred to “that young fool, your father.” She suffered from rheumatism. Her slow, stiff movements, her constantly tapping cane had frightened the child. It was only as he grew older that he came to appreciate the keen intelligence and blunt good sense of his grandmother. He had learned that the bad feeling between her and his father had been caused by her refusal on more than one occasion to help him out of debt.
    Robert had always continued the annual visits to his grandmother, from choice once he was old enough to make the decision himself. He had developed a deep, if undemonstrative affection for her.
    And now she was making one of her very infrequent, always unannounced visits to London. She had taken a house for the duration of the Season, refusing as she always did on such occasions to stay with her son-in-law.
    â€œI want you to meet her, Elizabeth,” Robert had said, smiling eagerly into her eyes. They were waltzing at Almack’s. He always chose waltzes with her, because the dance gave them some time to be together and to talk. It was hard to steal time together otherwise.
    â€œDo you really think I ought?” she had asked doubtfully. “She sounds rather frightening.”
    He had laughed, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, white teeth flashing at her. “She will adore you, my love,” he had assured her, squeezing her hand tighter. “And do not try to persuade me that you are afraid. You are always easy in other people’s presence. You never seem at a loss for topics of conversation.”
    â€œBut perhaps she will think a visit from me an impertinence?” Elizabeth had suggested.
    His eyes had softened as they gazed back into hers. “I love her, Elizabeth,” he had said. “I have told her about you and all that you mean to me. She insists on meeting you. I do believe that if you will not call on her, she will call on you.”
    â€œBut that will never do,” she had said, aghast. “How would it look if your grandmother came calling on my aunt when we are not even betrothed?”
    He had grinned, looking suddenly like a mischievous boy. “Then you have no choice, do you, my love?” he had said. The music had been drawing to a close. “Tomorrow afternoon?” he had suggested. “I shall call for you at three.”
    And so they had gone. Elizabeth’s Aunt Matilda had raised no objection to her charge’s going with Robert Denning to visit his grandmother. Despite Robert’s assurances of the night before, Elizabeth had been nervous.
    Lady Bothwell was the first member of Robert’s family to whom she had been formally presented. And she had wondered what he had said about her. Did the old lady really know that they loved each other? Did she know that they had pledged to wait three years until they were free to marry? Would she like Elizabeth, or would she find her ridiculously young and gauche?
    That first meeting had certainly been disconcerting. The old lady had risen to her feet when they were announced and stood with her back to the fireplace, leaning heavily on a cane. She had watched Elizabeth through an old fashioned lorgnette as Robert led her forward.
    â€œThis is Elizabeth Rossiter, Gram,” he had said simply.
    â€œI could have guessed that, boy,” she had replied gruffly, still surveying Elizabeth. “Well, if her sense matches her looks, it seems you have made a good choice. Come and sit down, girl.”
    â€œThank you,” Elizabeth had replied, and she had perched stiff-backed on the edge of a nearby chair.
    Robert had laughed,