Chapter Fourteen
The smell of roasted meats, sweet pastry, and fresh garden roses lingered in the breakfast room as Grace stepped through the doorway, her slippers whispering against the tile.
Sarah was already seated, a small frown creasing her brow as she read a note brought in by the footman.
Beside her, Matthew stirred his tea, shirtsleeves rolled up in a rare ease.
Oliver’s eyes found hers the moment she entered, as though he had been waiting for her. His easy smile—somewhere between charming and impossible—knocked her slightly off balance, but she managed a smile in return.
“Lady Rockwell,” he said brightly. “You’ve arrived just in time to settle a debate. Is it acceptable to serve partridge twice in one week?”
Grace arched a brow as she took her seat. “I daresay the partridge is more exhausted by the experience than we are.”
Matthew and Oliver both burst into laughter, but Grace’s attention was fixed on Sarah. She looked up slowly from her plate, her eyes meeting Grace’s with hesitation. Matthew cleared his throat, pushing back from the table. “Oliver, would you care to join me for a ride?”
Oliver glanced toward the window. “It is raining.” His tone hovered between confusion and protest, but Matthew’s pointed stare left no room for argument.
“Which is…,” Oliver fumbled over his own words, “...the perfect weather for a summer ride. We shall not overheat.”
Oliver hesitated for a moment, offering Grace an encouraging smile, before begrudgingly following Matthew from the room.
“Grace…” Sarah’s voice was hesitant and fragile, as if one wrong word might send Grace retreating again.
“Please do not apologize.”
“I’m not,” Sarah said quickly, then drew a slow breath. “I am sorry if I have made things harder for you, but I will not apologize for wanting you here. You were my friend before you loved Benjamin, and it may be selfish of me, but I do not want to lose you. Not now when I need you most.”
Grace’s throat tightened. “You will not lose me. Not entirely.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I need you to be patient with me while I figure out who I am without him.”
Sarah’s eyes softened. She reached across the table, her hand brushing Grace’s fingers. “I can do that. Just promise me that you will still be my friend.”
Grace’s lips curved, though her eyes stung. “You are my sister, Sarah Elizabeth Fenwick. Always.”
The air in the drawing room was warm and still, the faint click of Sarah’s embroidery needle punctuating the steady patter of rain against the windows.
Grace sat opposite her, a book balanced on her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in nearly ten minutes.
She hadn’t read a single word; her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to Oliver.
Her gaze flicked toward the window again, heart stirring in that familiar, infuriating way. He and Matthew hadn’t appeared since breakfast, and she hated how keenly she noticed his absence.
“Have you read a single word since you sat down?” Sarah’s voice cut through the quiet, soft but pointed. Grace blinked, lowering her eyes to the page, the ink blurring as her thoughts scattered. “I am not really in the mood.”
“That’s not like you,” Sarah said without looking up, her needle pausing mid-stitch.
Grace said nothing.
“Or perhaps you are simply distracted.”
Grace bristled. “I am fine.”
“Mmm,” Sarah murmured, the room falling silent again, save for the gentle ticking of the clock. “I am sure he is fine. You cannot drown in the rain.”
Grace looked up sharply. “What?”
Sarah didn’t meet her gaze, her eyes remained focused on her work. “Oliver. I am sure he is fine.”
“I did not ask.” Grace shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of his infuriatingly entrancing smile.
“No,” Sarah said, arching a brow, “but your eyes have wandered to that window fourteen times in the last few minutes, so I took a guess.”
Grace pressed her lips together, her cheeks warming.
Sarah tilted her head as her expression softened. “You care about him.”
Grace’s head snapped up. “I do not.”
“Grace, it’s alright…”
“He’s a friend. Barely. And that is all.”
Sarah said nothing, letting the words hang in the air. Grace, felt the defensiveness rise in her chest. “Do you honestly think that I am looking to replace Benjamin with someone so infuriating, and believes that everything can be fixed with a well-placed smirk?”
“I do not think you are trying to replace anyone,” Sarah said softly. “But I want you to know, when you decide to open your heart again—whoever it is—I will be happy for you. All I want is for you to be happy, Grace.”
Grace nodded slowly, a slow wave of relief washing over her. She had feared how Sarah might feel, seeing her open her heart to another. But she also knew that she was not the only one holding back due to shadows of the past.
“I just want to understand him.” Grace hadn’t meant for the words to come out loud. When she glanced up to see if Sarah had heard, she caught the knowing twinkle in her eye.
“But not because you care?” She teased.
Grace’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No.” She replied, unsure if she even wanted to admit the truth to herself. “I do not care at all.”