Chapter Nine
Grace stood in the middle of Lord and Lady Hale’s wildly extravagant drawing room.
She had lost count of all the different variations of wallpapers, fabrics, and tapestries they had managed to fit into one tiny room.
Lady Hale had been educating her on the many exotic animals that had lent their motifs to the design of the lavish country estate.
Grace had never thought herself adverse to animal prints, but after today, she would most likely reconsider her stance on the subject—though it was unlikely the topic would ever come up again, as long as she managed to avoid Lady Hale.
She scanned the room for any sign of Matthew or Sarah; even Oliver would have been a welcome sight at the moment. She hadn’t spoken to him since the afternoon he announced that he had been the one to bring Benjamin’s horse to Somerton.
It wasn’t Champion’s presence that bothered her so much as the fact that they had all kept it from her.
As though she were something fragile, or explosive, that needed to be protected—though she had stormed out and locked herself in her room for over a day, so maybe they were not completely mistaken on that point.
Grace had approached Matthew and Sarah earlier that day to apologize.
They of course had accepted her with open arms and a few tears.
Sarah once again begged her to give Oliver a chance, saying he had no knowledge of her summer residence at Somerton until he arrived.
If he had, he never would have brought Champion.
“He told Matthew he plans to leave tomorrow.” Sarah had told her. “He said he can not stand the thought of causing you any more distress.”
Secretly, Grace had thought that was a splendid idea, but she promised her friends she would find Oliver at the Hale’s Parlor Party that evening and make amends.
Oliver Blackburn was a mystery she had not yet decided she wanted to solve, but if Matthew and Sarah truly wanted him here, she would not be the reason he left.
Grace finally spotted him seated at a table near the back of the room.
Things were far less formal here than they were in London, and he sat with his jacket draped over the back of his chair and sleeves rolled once at the cuff.
The cards in his hand were fanned out with practiced ease, and a small, feminine crowd had gathered behind him, no doubt feigning interest in the game just so they could watch the men who were playing it.
She took a deep breath before politely interrupting Lady Hale’s monologue. “Forgive me, my lady,” she said, laying a soft hand on the woman’s animated arm. “I have been waiting for a moment to join in on a game of whist, and I do believe now is the perfect time.”
She didn’t even wait for a response before she made her way across the room, just as the men had begun dealing out a new hand of cards. “May I join?” she asked lightly, immediately regretting the amount of brightness she had forced into her voice.
Oliver did not even glance her way, but the older gentleman seated beside him stood and offered her his chair with a sincere smile. “My seat is yours, Lady Rockwell.” Mr. Langley turned back to those still seated at the table with a wink, “Heaven help you all.”
Laughter rose from the group, all except for Oliver, as Grace took her place beside him. She had gained a reputation for competition over the years, playing more than her share of rounds with Benjamin at small gatherings such as this. She introduced herself to her partner before studying her cards.
The first few plays were laid in silence. Oliver performed with his usual calm confidence, but the air between them was fragile. Every time she shifted in her chair, she could feel the tension between them stretching thinner until she was sure it was about to snap.
On the third hand, she discarded a card with much more flair than necessary, flashing a satisfied grin when it won her the hand.
“Lady Rockwell,” the man across from Oliver said with a mockingly scandalized tone, “If you are going to cheat, at least be discreet about it.”
Grace pressed a hand to her heart in theatrical offense. “Sir, I would never.”
He narrowed his eyes at her with a smirk. “Then allow me to say, if you are simply going to play like a villain, I may bow out before I am scandalized by losing to a lady.”
“No, please don’t!” she said, laughing. “Perhaps we can work together.” She cleared her throat, her eyes dropping to her cards as she raised her voice just enough to ensure Oliver couldn’t ignore it.
“Even those not on the same team might find that being friends is more beneficial than being enemies.”
She stole a glance to her right, her heart missing a beat when she found Oliver already looking at her.
“Are you proposing an alliance?” the other gentleman asked. Grace knew she should turn back to the men speaking to her, but she could not seem to pull her focus from Oliver, even though his attention had already returned to his hand. “Not an alliance,” she said softly. “More of a truce.”
Oliver’s card paused midair. She smiled, knowing she had his full attention now. “I promise to play fair,” she added, her voice just above a whisper, “and I will only be mildly aggravating, so long as no one bows out of the game before the end.”
Oliver turned his head to look at her fully now. Their eyes locked and held just long enough for Grace to sense the other men at the table shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Oliver dipped his head back down to his cards, trying to hide the smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
He cleared his throat. “I suppose I could agree to the terms of that truce,” he said, trying to force a casual tone, but Grace could hear the smile in his voice. “As long as you don’t mind a little competition. I can play fair, but I do intend to win.”
Grace laughed, suddenly feeling lighter, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The man across from them shook his head as he examined the cards in his hand. “Why do I feel as though you are speaking in riddles?”
“Riddles?” Oliver shook his head, and Grace thought she saw him throw her a quick wink. “No riddles, Mr. Brandley. Lady Rockwell has made herself perfectly clear.”
Another hand was dealt, and the conversation resumed around them, but Grace’s attention was no longer on the game. Every time she looked up, she found Oliver already watching her. And every time he smiled, something wrapped around her chest and pulled just a little bit tighter.
Oliver prided himself on understanding the inner workings of a woman’s mind; he had engaged enough of them over the past few years even to consider himself an expert.
It was a thin line between charming flirt and heartbreaking rogue, and it was his ability to read the intentions and feelings of young ladies that allowed him to escape harmless situations before they ventured too close to emotional entanglements.
At this very moment, however, he was completely and utterly clueless as to what Grace Rockwell was thinking. Her little performance while playing whist had caught the attention of a few people, though no one but him knew the full meaning behind her words.
She had obviously known he was contemplating leaving Somerton, and in her own way, she had told him that he should stay—but her reason for doing so—that was what Oliver could not figure out.
He took in a breath of the cool night air as he stepped out on the terrace, making his way to where Grace stood, leaning against the stone balustrade. Her back was to him, so he was able to take a moment to observe her when she thought no one was watching.
She took in a deep breath, her shoulders sitting just a little lower than they had been a few moments before.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, there was no denying that, but it was everything hiding underneath, along with the strength, grace, and poise that she carried it with, that made her captivating.
“I thought I might find you out here,” Oliver said softly.
Grace turned with a smile, as though she had been expecting him to come. “Are you here to gloat about your victory?”
Oliver stepped beside her, resting his hands on the cool stone next to hers. “No, though I will say you were a worthy opponent.”
Grace shrugged, “I was motivated.” She slowly turned to face him, “Oliver, I want to apologize. When I found out about Champion…”
“You had every right to be upset,” He shook his head, cutting her off. “I truly do not know why I bought him,” Oliver admitted. “Sometimes when someone is gone so suddenly and you have nothing left of them, it can feel as though they were never here.”
“I understand.” Grace nodded slowly, her eyes softened. “Benjamin loved Champion, so I am glad he is with someone who sees his worth.”
In that moment, Oliver wondered if Grace was capable of seeing her own worth.
She had every right to be angry, but she was always so quick to apologize, taking every burden onto her own shoulders.
She bore responsibilities that were not hers to bear, just for the sake of lessening the burdens on those around her, even if she was already struggling under the weight of what she was already carrying.
Oliver swallowed the urge to tell her how much he admired her strength. If he were to tell her his honest thoughts, it would only make her run away again.
The crickets filled the silence behind them, and the soft hush of the wind stirred in the trees above them. “That was quite the speech you made at the card table,” he finally said, turning the conversation to a slightly lighter topic.
“I meant what I said,” she replied. “You should not leave before the end of the summer; not because of me.”
“I thought I was making things harder for you.”
“You are,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “But it is also a distraction. I did say I would uphold my end of the truce.”
“You did.” Oliver nodded. “And I meant it when I said I intend to win.”
“Win what exactly?” She asked, arching a brow. “It is a truce, Oliver, not a competition.”
“Everything is a competition if you try hard enough.”
Grace laughed, the sound warming the cool night air. “You are impossible.”
“Persistent,” he corrected. Grace looked back at him with a glimmer in her eye. “And here I thought you were not patient enough to be persistent."
Oliver felt the air rush from his lungs, and his heart skipped a beat. He had said those exact words to her nearly a year ago, on the night they met.
She had been attending the ball with Benjamin, and Oliver had been just as captivated by her then as he was now.
The difference was that, back then, it was nothing more than a fleeting moment of infatuation, as her heart was happily held by his dear friend.
Now, Oliver felt the feeling take root as something deeper, but alongside it came a sharp pain of guilt that was becoming far too familiar.
“People do change, Lady Rockwell.” Oliver tried to force his tone to stay light. He could see the concentration set in Grace’s brow as she studied him.
“I would like to propose an amendment to the terms of our truce.” He added quickly, desperate for a distraction.
“Oh?” She asked. “What might that be?”
He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.. “If I am to refrain from flirting for the rest of the summer….”
“Without intention.” She corrected.
“Yes, without intention,” Oliver confirmed. “I think it is only fair that you have a challenge as well, to balance the scales.”
“I believe my challenge was not insulting you.”
“That is not a challenge, Grace, it is a miracle that requires divine intervention.” His grin deepened as she rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she said. “What do you propose?”
“I propose that every day, you do something with me. Something small, a walk, a game, an amusing activity, but you will not know what it is until the day of.”
She blinked at him. “This sounds suspiciously like a trap.”
“I promise you, it is not,” he laughed.
“I am still failing to see where the competition is in this.” Grace was still watching him suspiciously.
Oliver smiled at her again, “I simply aim to prove that by the end of the summer, you will no longer see me as insufferable.”
“That,” she said, her lips curving slowly, “is an extremely ambitious goal.”
“Some would even say impossible.” Oliver held his breath, worried that maybe he was asking for too much.
Grace thought for a moment longer before shaking her head in defeat. “Alright. I agree.”
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. We shall begin tomorrow.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Only mildly,” he said with a wink.
Grace laughed as she turned to return inside, and Oliver felt something crack in his chest as he noticed her steps seemed just a little lighter.
He hadn’t expected her to accept his challenge, but now that she had, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to think about anything else.
She would probably still believe him to be insufferable by the time they got to the end of the summer, but that was not what truly mattered to him.
At worst, he would help provide her with a little extra distraction to keep her mind off of her grief, and at best, maybe he could help her give her heart a chance to heal—even if it ruined him in the process.