by Ella Edon
She pulled forcefully away from him and stalked out into the open space between the rows of trees. "You ask me not to leave you? When you just told me that you were leaving me forever, and breaking my heart into pieces with those words?"
"I only meant that Adam was the one leaving. I was not – I would have found you – "
Suddenly, Grace began to laugh. "You have not thought far enough about this, Lord Worthington," she said. "How could you possibly explain your decision to marry me? Everyone knows that I have never met the earl!"
"Well – I – "
"You could not explain knowing me without explaining that you were posing as 'Adam Wheeler' all along. And I do not think you wish to do that."
Thomas knew she was right, but didn’t enjoy being reminded that he had backed himself into a very tight corner. "We could become secretly engaged right now, and then arrange to be introduced at the third assembly ball. There would be a brief courtship and it wouldn’t be much longer before we could marry."
Thomas had hoped she would be happy. But all she could do was stand there and look up at him and shake her head, as though unable to decide whether she should laugh or cry. "You forget something else, my lord. I am a woman with a ruined reputation."
He started to walk to her, but that gave him pause . . . and it seemed that a cold wind had suddenly moved through the orchard on this warm summer night.
"Even if – if – the people of Birdwell, not to mention Worthington, could accept your marriage to a very lowly servant girl whose father is a drunkard – you forget that I, and my whole family, conspired to make me an imposter. I am a liar and a fake and the whole town heard the story on the night of the second ball. They will never forget what they heard that night, not if two hundred years go by."
"Grace," he whispered. "Do you think you are the only young woman ever to find herself in such a predicament? Those of higher stations have risked everything to make a better marriage, even to the point of, shall we say, misrepresenting themselves. I would let it be known that I would accept you as you are – that it does not matter to me – that – "
This time she did laugh, though it was clear that she was giddy from shock and not from amusement. "Oh, my dear Lord Worthington. Oh, my dear man."
Her face was pale white and her eyes huge and glittering in the moonlight. "Your mother would never accept it. Neither would anyone else. I am simply not the kind of female that a titled man would ever consider marrying. I would never be more than an object of curiosity and ridicule, never to fit into the world that you live in.
"And you yourself would be a laughingstock. The people would think their handsome young earl had truly become deranged – unfit – if that is the sort of woman whom he would choose to become Lady Worthington."
Grace tried to smile at him, but could only shake her head and send her long, dark hair sweeping over her shoulders. "I could never let something like that happen to you. And I will not. It would not be fair to either one of us.
"No, my lord. All I can hope for now is to meet some farmer's son who is not too particular about who he brings home, as long as she can clean the cottage and feed the hogs.
"You will have your fine life with your racehorses and art treasures on your beautiful estate. I will have mine among the chickens and the pigs and the mud. It’s simply the way of the world, and we two do not have the power to change it."
Chapter Thirty
An Unforgettable Night Among The Apple Blossoms
Grace felt defeated, empty, and exhausted. She looked at Adam – no, not Adam, but Thomas, Lord Worthington – and it seemed that she was looking at a different man now.
Because he was a different man.
He was taller, straighter, and more serious, without the little affectations he had tried to use to pass himself off as a working man from the East End of London. She saw the same shining hazel eyes and soft light brown hair and tall, slender, broad-shouldered form . . . but even if she did ever see him again, it would never be the same as it was before.
Carefully, formally, he reached for her hand. "I will escort you back to your home," he said, and Grace could hear that it was the earl speaking now. "Please know that I am sorry. I never meant to hurt or distress you. From now on, I will make certain that I don’t do so ever again."
A surge of panic rose in her chest. "Oh, please, not yet, not yet," she whispered. "If you are to go from me forever, please do not leave me with nothing. I meant what I said. I will never again have the chance to be with the man I love. Please do not take that from me, too, along with everything else. Oh, please . . . "
He moved forward and caught her as she collapsed into his arms. "Dear Grace," he whispered, leaning his face against the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her hair. "I do know that you loved me for myself alone. That was the finest gift you could ever have given me. I will keep it always."
By way of answer, she reached up and put her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion she possessed. They held each other close and he whispered to her again. "I can only hope," he said, lifting her up and cradling her to his chest, "that Thomas will be as worthy of you as Adam was."
With that, her tears began, for Grace would always wish that he was indeed the simple coachman she had thought he was. But he was not, and so she held onto Thomas very tightly as he carried her to the place in the soft grass where he had left his coat. He placed her atop it and stretched out beside her, strong and warm.
"There’s no one to see us here," he told her, as he unfastened his clothes. "And the night gives us cover. We are the only two in the world . . . here in our peaceful, quiet world."
Grace found that she had no time for shyness or nervousness. There was only now, for it was all she would ever have with him and she gave herself completely over to him. She wanted to remember this for all the rest of her life and regret nothing.
He was all strength and surety, and she was all softness and newness. Grace allowed him to do as he pleased and lead her through this new dance with no reservation, and she closed her eyes as his hands touched and caressed her tender flesh and caused the rush of heat to flood through her once again.
Grace could not help but pull him atop her and pull him as close as she could get him, brushing aside her skirts and feeling his body slide warm and firm against her legs until he was well and truly pushing inside her.
After a quick gasp, holding him tightly, she began to move with him, and then they continued to hold each other close until at last he quieted and rested his head against her shoulder. Then the two of them lay together in sweet silence in the moonlight, beneath the sweet blossoms of the apple trees.
In the weeks that followed, Grace tried to think of nothing more than the small things of normal, everyday life. She rose each day and worked alongside her mother to keep the cottage clean and in good repair, and to prepare food and sew clothing and work in the garden. When there was time, she would read a little in the chapbook that John and Noah shared and help them learn to read it, too, and they would all talk about the other books they would like to buy.
Grace tried to remain on the grounds of Applewood Cottage as much as she could. When she was required to walk into Birdwell for marketing, she simply kept her gaze down and looked neither right nor left as she walked along. She would buy what she needed as quickly as possible and return as soon as she could – and if she even thought she heard the quick steps of a pony pulling a car, she made certain to keep her gaze turned away.
It was strange how she felt a sense of loss when she thought of Adam. He was the man she had fallen in love with, and though she knew, of course, that Thomas was the same man as "Adam," the earl lived a very different life from that of a coachman. It was hard to even imagine how she might fit into such a life.
But none of that mattered, for she didn’t see any sign of Thomas. Perhaps he was avoiding her and taking another route if he did happen to see her on the road or in the town.
More difficult were the times when she had no choice but to go into Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries to either help her aunt and uncle, or to be fitted with her last gown, the one made of beautiful light-blue silk. Grace had to pretend she was still looking forward to finding a husband and excited at the thought of getting married.
She had learned to smile and nod whenever her mother or Aunt Betsey talked about what her wedding would be like and who the groom might ultimately be. Grace did feel the pain of guilt at knowing she was past marriage now and no man would marry her if he knew what she had done . . . she had already spent what seemed to her like a "wedding night" with the man she truly loved.
Yet through the guilt and through the pain of hiding such a secret, and of knowing what her family would think if they were to discover it, Grace found that a hint of stubbornness remained with her. With all that was required of her – with being essentially placed on the open market like a young mare to be sold to the highest bidder – she felt no guilt at all over having taken something for herself.
Her one night with Adam – with Thomas – was something she would hold within her heart for as long as she lived. It could never be taken away from her, no matter what happened to her now
And that was well, because there was no avoiding the great excitement among all the young women in and around the town. "He's coming! He's coming this time!" they would whisper. "It is certain!"
"Who is coming?" Grace would ask politely, though she knew the answer. Thomas had promised her, on that night, that the earl would attend the next ball.
"The earl is coming! Earl Worthington!" And the girls would giggle and squeal and hurry off to look at yet more ribbons and feathers and glass beads and pieces of silk, simply beside themselves at the thought of dancing with the earl at last and possibly finding favor with him and maybe . . . just maybe . . . receiving a proposal to become Lady Worthington.
Of course, Grace's family knew only that her brief infatuation with coachman Adam Wheeler was ended, for he had gone back to his family home in the north. Uncle Leonard and Aunt Betsey tried unsuccessfully to hide their happiness over that.
It did seem to Grace, though, that her mother was rather let down. She had been impressed with Adam, both for his good looks and for his unexpected kindness to Cecil. But Adam was gone now and Patience was soon flitting around as giddy as any of the Birdwell girls over the thought of her daughter meeting Earl Worthington.
Even worse, Grace knew she must pretend to still be interested in finding some other husband should the earl pay her no attention. She would have to dance with the sons of farmers and tradesmen, and look as though she was considering marrying one of them – preferably, the one with the largest fortune to be had – and pretend to be pleased about it.
She wondered if it was possible that she might succeed in never marrying at all. If it was only up to her, that would be the best solution. But six other people were counting on her to help keep a roof over their heads and a little food on their simple wooden plates.
Another way out would be to simply go and find work elsewhere. Great houses were always in need of maids who could do the lowest work in the kitchens and upstairs rooms. Such a position would provide a place to sleep and simple food to eat, and most of the coins she earned could be sent back to her mother.
But Grace knew very well that she could not possibly earn as much on her own as she would have if she married even a moderately successful man. It seemed that her only choices remained exactly the same: either marry as well as she could or abandon her family entirely.
She would never abandon them to hunger and loss. The money that Uncle Leonard and Aunt Betsey were spending now, keeping the Miller family in food and a few clothes, came from the sale of the orchard behind the cottage. It wouldn’t last forever and a new source of income would have to be found soon. The fabrics shop did well enough, but could not support six people and two residences.
So, Grace told herself that she had gotten what she wanted – one night with a man she loved – and marriage to someone else had become the price she was to pay for that. She remained at peace with her decision, though part of her would always long for Thomas – for the earl – for Adam.
That was one thing that would never change.
At last, an entire month after her night in the orchard with Thomas, Grace could no longer avoid the reality of the third and final assembly ball.
As she had twice before, she walked to the Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries shop. Uncle Leonard opened the door for her and then stayed to help a few last-minute patrons in search of extra feathers or a piece of silk to use as a new wrap. Grace went upstairs to find Aunt Betsey waiting to help her get dressed and ready.
"Good girl! You are right on time," her aunt said, gathering as many brass hairpins as she could find from the little tin box. "We must make sure you look perfect tonight, for everyone is saying that the earl is sure to attend this time!"
Grace smiled patiently and looked at the new dress where it lay across the small bed. "It's so beautiful, Aunt Betsey," she murmured, running one finger over the surface.
And it was. The delicate fabric seemed light as air and softer than swan's down all at once, and was of a pale blue color like the sky just past dawn. Never had she touched such a gown, let alone worn one.
And this one had been especially made just for her, just for this third and final and very blatant attempt to catch the eye of the earl . . . just like all the rest of the young women who would be there tonight.
Then, with a little of her newly found determination, Grace made a decision. "It’s beautiful, Aunt Betsey. But – I would rather wear something else tonight."
Aunt Betsey stopped right where she was. Grace thought the handful of brass hairpins would spill to the floor. "Rather wear – something else?" Her mouth hung open. "Grace! You cannot be serious!"
There was a time when her aunt's reaction would have made her feel terrible and selfish – but not this time. "It truly is the loveliest dress I have ever seen. But I think I would feel more comfortable tonight – more myself – if I simply wore the yellow muslin that I wore to the first ball."
"Yellow muslin! That you have already worn?" Aunt Betsey seemed both stunned and angry. "Do you know how much we spent on this silk dress, made exactly to your measure?"
Grace looked down. "Yes. And I am more grateful to you than I can say."
"Do you mean to insult us by refusing it?"
"Of course not. I merely think – that such a wonderful gown, surely the most special I will ever wear, would be better saved for my wedding day."
That seemed to calm her aunt, at least somewhat. "Wedding day. Well, no girl ever wore a prettier one to a wedding. I suppose that might do. But then, you had best make sure there is a wedding to wear it to! And that starts tonight!"
"Of course, Aunt Betsey." And if I am fortunate, it will end tonight as well.
Feeling like a soldier going off to battle, Grace left the shop, held her head high, and walked across the street towards the Robbins Inn.
It had been decided that the Inn was the only place that would do for the ball, now that the Earl Worthington was expected to appear. It had a polished wood floor for dancing, as well as a chandelier in the ballroom, tables for refreshments, and chairs for the guests. It was the most elegant venue that Birdwell had to offer.
Walking across the street, Grace looked straight ahead as she moved around the horses and carriages lining up to leave their passengers at the Inn. She again wore her dancing slippers, but this time was not so concerned about keeping them pristine as she picked her way across the cobblestones.
Finally, she reached the wooden walkway on the other side. It was very crowded with those waiting for friends and companions to arrive – most of whom were young women – since they always wished to walk inside together. Grace carefully slid past them and managed to work her way down to the door to the Robbins Inn, which sat halfway down the eastern side of the street.
She had nearly reached the door, when from the street, there came cries of "Make way! Make way! You, there, move that carriage. Make way for the earl!"
Grace stopped, for the way forward was blocked by a sudden row of people – mostly young women – who had formed a line from the Inn to the street on both sides of the door, as though the king himself was coming to the ball.
But it was not the king.
Pushing up to the line as close as she could, Grace looked out to the street and saw the shining black landau carriage that she knew belonged to the earl. Hooked to the front was the same beautiful team of black Norfolk Trotters – Starling and Raven, she remembered. And inside the fine carriage . . .
Sitting in the back were Mr. Clarke, the master of Feathering Park, and his wife, the pretty little blonde named Beatrice. He stepped out first and made a great show of helping Mrs. Clarke down from the carriage. The jewels at her throat and in her hair glittered in the torchlight from the street.
