Chapter 10 #2
“Are you looking for someone?” Clara murmured at her side, having found her again after exchanging social niceties with their guests.
Grace pulled her eyes from Lord Ellison’s and scanned the room as a whole instead. “Oh, yes… I had thought perhaps Mama would have invited the Lennox family. Evidently Miss Lennox and I were friends. Do you know much of the family?”
Clara hid a grimace, but not well.
Grace lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
It did not take long. Clara stepped closer, her gown brushing against Grace’s. “I do not think Miss Lennox was a great friend to you. I admit I did not know her well—you met just before I left for seminary—but she seemed more fair-weather friend than foul.”
Grace frowned. “Do you know what caused the rift in our relationship?”
“Did you have one? I did not know.”
More questions to pile upon one another, but no answers to be found. And within moments, they were called in for dinner. She was unsurprised that Mama insisted she be escorted in by Lord Ellison. Her mother seemed to want the match just as much as Grace did.
Grace’s hand upon her goblet froze. Want the match? That was quite a jump from simply enjoying the man’s company, was it not? Certainly, she liked being with him, and most certainly, he was attractive to look upon, but marriage?
It had to be the talk with Clara. It had addled her thoughts.
Still, it was not unpleasant to think on. Her and Lord Ellison, married. Adventures daily. Laughing. Helping him reach his goals.
And yet, there was her past. Would she ever feel like she could move forward into her future with that gaping hole behind her? Was there a possibility of another gentleman that she had cared for? This affianced husband of hers?
“You do not seem very pleased with your drink,” Lord Ellison said in an undertone from beside her. “If you wish it, I could knock it over for you?”
Her head swung to him, where he was silently laughing, thin lines streaking outward from his creased eyes.
“Would you truly do it if I asked?” she asked, tucking aside a smile with effort.
“Of course. I am a man of my word.”
“Then by all means, please remove this drink from my sight.”
With a quick look around, he deftly plucked the drink from her hand. She opened her mouth to protest that he truly did not need to spill it—how horrible that would be for Mama—when he brought it to his own lips and drank it in one gulp.
Her mouth parted. “You just drank my punch,” she whispered.
“You wanted it removed from your sight. Upon reflection, it seemed more prudent an action than knocking it onto your mother’s fine linen.” Gently, he placed it back in her hand, and their fingers brushed. He paused for the briefest of moments before pulling back.
The bare skin there tingled even when his hand was gone. Somehow both a pleasant and disconcerting sensation.
“What did you do today?” he asked, eyes still smiling. “Besides expire from tedium, of course.”
“Oh, that is all I managed, I am afraid. I could hardly move from the fit of the blue devils that came over me, knowing you were not to entertain me.”
He nodded solemnly. “I felt much the same. We must ensure it does not happen again, yes?”
Her heart thumped at his words. A single pound that strained the bounds of her chest. But it was his eyes that had her caught. They were fixed on her with an intensity she’d not experienced from him. From anyone.
“Miss Whitmore,” he began, but was interrupted by a servant at her elbow, offering to refill her drink. She acquiesced, and when the footman was gone, the intensity in his eyes had fled, for good or bad. Their conversation continued on to lighter topics.
When dessert was served, Grace glanced around the table to see Clara in conversation with one of the neighbors. A James Hartwell, she believed. She’d been introduced both to him and his wife at the ball.
“That is your sister, yes?” Lord Ellison asked, following her gaze. How strange to think he’d not met her siblings, with how well she felt she now knew him.
“Yes.”
“The two of you look quite similar. Your younger siblings were much the same.”
She laughed a little. “We are all stamps, or so Papa says. He thinks we look like my mother. She thinks we look like him. I imagine we’re a mix.”
His eyes traced over her face, glanced at Clara then nodded. “A mix. I find myself partial to your coloring though.” He said the words offhand, as if they did not still the very air in her lungs.
A quiet hush of conversation and cutlery blanketed the room, but she had to speak, to continue the conversation. “You look like your father. I’d not met him before. Have I… have I ever met him? I assumed that I had not but…”
“But?”
“There is something familiar there. And in you.”
He looked at his plate, then set down his fork. “We did know one another. Before you left.”
Her brows rose. But Mama had made it seem as if they hardly knew each other—if at all. “Oh. Was the acquaintance deep?”
He shook his head. “No. We did not have more than three or four interactions, and none of them long. To own the truth, I do not think you would have liked me a great deal.”
“Impossible.” She lifted a brow, daring him to disagree.
The corner of his mouth lifted but he shook his head again. “I was not always the paragon of gentlemanly benevolence you see before you now.”
She had to stifle a laugh. “But then… to some extent you might have known what I was like before?”
Again, he shook his head. His voice was low, but sincere. “I am sorry, Miss Whitmore. If I could have helped you regain your sense of self, I would have. But I did not know you well, and I think that even what I did know might have been wrong.”
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
He appeared distinctly uncomfortable, and she repressed an urge to tell him to disregard the question, because in truth, she was incurably curious.
Clara had indicated that her attempted perfection had been a facade.
So what did Lord Ellison think of her then versus now?
And could he have known of her mysterious betrothal?
Mama stood, and the table quieted. Reluctantly, Grace turned to face her.
“We will adjourn to the drawing room for the remainder of the evening.”
The women, almost as one, came to their feet to follow her from the room, but Grace stayed just a moment longer, gaze swinging back to Lord Ellison.
“I will find you after,” he said, covering her hand with his own. In a breath, he seemed to realize what he’d done and pulled back his hand. But Mama, passing by, must have seen it. She paused by Grace’s seat and waited for her to stand and accompany her into the next room.
“You seem to have captured Lord Ellison’s attention, my dear,” she whispered as the women settled themselves in the room.
“I do not know. He is a good friend, and was just assuring me—”
Mama was smiling like a ninny, shaking her head. “A man does not grab a woman’s hand because he wishes to be friends, child. Lord Ellison is interested in more, to be sure.”
That made Grace’s cheeks heat. Partially because she hoped the same. Heaven help her, memory or no, she was falling for Lord Ellison.
“Mother,” Grace asked, her voice low and hurried. The questions had built to where she felt she was standing on a precipice—and she had to know. “Who was I betrothed to before?”
Mama’s steps faltered in the doorway between the dining room and drawing room.
She pulled Grace to the side as they entered, smiling at the passing guests as they filtered into the room.
“A man long gone, dear,” she whispered without looking at her.
“The betrothal had not even been announced. How did you—?”
But Grace cut her off. “Did I love him?”
“You hardly knew him.”
“Then why—”
Mama laid a hand on Grace’s arm. “I tell you this not to hurt you, but because I understand the curiosity and believe you should know. The gentleman was unaware of your betrothal and kissed another the night it was to be announced. We did our utmost to convince you and him to move forward, but neither could see past the differences between you. The arrangement was silently dissolved, and you were both the happier for it.” She glanced up to the ladies engaged in quiet conversation about the room, her gaze tense.
“It was over a year ago now, and I think you would be best served to focus on Lord Ellison’s suit now.
His family wishes him married. He will be a steady husband for you, and your dowry will secure their estate’s future. ”