by Emma Evans
Stephen watched her for a long moment, feeling his heart grow heavy. His mind unwillingly recalled how he had lavished attention on Miss Sarah whenever he could, even when he was there on reason of calling on Miss Grace. He remembered how Miss Grace had been a hunched figure in the corner or left to walk alone as Sarah took his arm in her place. Given that they had reached an understanding, he had thought nothing of it, for she knew full well that he was attempting to encourage Miss Sarah to return to the affections she had once held for him—but now that he remembered that sad, lonely figure, he could not help but feel guilty over his behavior.
“You may think you are in love with her, Larchmont, but how well do you truly know this lady?” his mother asked softly, her gaze no longer fierce but gentle and kind. “This is why you feel so conflicted, so ill at ease, over the conversation you witnessed last evening. It does not fit in with what you think you know of the lady and that has unsettled you.”
“Then what should I do?” Stephen asked, suddenly desperate for his mother’s advice as he battled a deep, unsettling frustration. “What should I do, Mama?”
The Dowager gave him a sad smile. “I will not tell you, Larchmont, for this is yours to sort out. The one thing I might suggest, however, is that you find out the truth about Miss Sarah and the depths of her character. It may surprise you and, in that, you will find your answer about how you are to proceed.”
It was wise advice and not something that Stephen could easily discard. His mother was right. He was ill at ease because Miss Sarah’s behavior last evening had not been the kind of thing he had expected of her. To lie to his face, in order to bring Grace down in his estimation? That was nothing but sheer cruelty.
“Go,” his mother said, waving her hand. “I can see that you are desperate to be on your way and I have no need for you to stay here. In fact, I intend to spend the afternoon resting, so that I might have enough energy for this evening’s dinner.”
Stephen gave his mother a tight smile. “Yes, I remember. Lord and Lady Thackery, is it not?”
“It is,” she replied as he got up from the table. “And you are going to Lord Turnbridge’s musicale soiree, I think. Shall your young ladies be there also?”
Stephen nodded mutely.
“Then perhaps you might try to lavish your full attentions on the lady you are supposedly courting,” she suggested as he made his way towards the door. “Heaven knows she deserves it.”
“Perhaps, Mama,” Stephen replied, non-committal. “Do excuse me. I have a few calls to make and I do not want to be late.”
As though she could see the urgency driving him from the room, desperate to go to the Kingston house, his mother waved him off. “The best of luck to you, Larchmont. I have a feeling you are going to need it.”
A short time later, Stephen found himself being ushered into the drawing room, seeing Miss Sarah and Miss Grace rising to their feet. Miss Sarah was the one beaming at him, whilst Miss Grace did not even raise a smile at the sight of him.
It was not as though Stephen could blame her for that.
“My dear ladies, how good to see you again,” Stephen said warmly, aware of the maid in her usual place. “I do hope you are not too fatigued from last night’s ball?”
“No, not in the least,” Miss Sarah gushed, taking his arm and leading him towards the couch. Her eyes were bright, her golden curls bouncing gently around her face and, for a moment, Stephen felt himself caught under her spell once more.
“I am speaking of myself, of course,” Miss Sarah continued as he sat down. “My sister is still rather fagged, as you can see. I do not think she is used to dancing so much.”
The spell broke with a harshness that made Stephen grit his teeth. He could see Miss Grace’s cheeks fill with color as her sister sat back down, not once glancing in Grace’s direction. That was a thinly veiled insult, one that Stephen would, most likely, never have noticed before, but after last evening it was as though he were seeing things as they truly were for the first time.
“And long may that last, Miss Grace,” he replied, looking towards the lady. “You were a vision last evening. It was my honor to dance with you.”
Slowly, Miss Grace looked up at him, surprise etched across her expression.
“Thank you, Lord Larchmont,” she managed to say, her cheeks now burning red. “You are very kind.”
“And very generous with your compliments!” Miss Sarah interjected, laughing. “Did you not think my gown last evening was simply divine, Lord Larchmont? It was a brand-new creation from—”
“Miss Grace,” Stephen interrupted, aware that he was being abominably rude but finding his confusion over Miss Sarah’s conversation and catty spite towards her sister overwhelming him. “Might you care for a walk to the bookshop? Or the library?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Sarah close her mouth, her eyes flashing as he turned his attention away from her and towards her sister. Miss Grace looked up at him in surprise, her mouth opening and shutting for a moment as she shot a quick look at her sister.
“We will take the maid, of course,” he continued, when she said nothing. “I would not have you—”
“Oh, no, Lord Larchmont!” Miss Sarah trilled, forcing his attention back onto herself. “I will come with you both, for propriety’s sake. You will have no requirement for a maid.”
Stephen swallowed hard, not sure what to say.
“But you cannot, Sarah,” he heard Grace’s soft voice say. “Lord Wilson is to call within the hour.”
There was another short pause.
“Then you can both wait,” Miss Sarah replied calmly, her voice still bright as Stephen looked at her, seeing the expression on her face that told him she expected them both to do just as she had said. “Lord Wilson will not be long.”
There it was. The old familiar tug that told him he wanted her company, that he wanted to wait for her and Lord Wilson. He was dazzled by the warm smile that crossed her face as she looked at him, aware that he was being drawn in and finding that he lacked the strength to do battle against it.
“Thank you, Lord Larchmont,” Miss Sarah continued, as he sat back in his chair. “You are most considerate.”
His gaze flickered to Miss Grace for a moment, as Miss Sarah got up to ring the bell for tea—and his heart sank to his toes. Where she had been sitting straight, her expression hopeful with the beginnings of a smile on her face, she was now slumped back in her chair, her eyes on the floor and her hands folded gently in her lap.
Apparently, she was used to doing what her sister demanded.
“I do apologize, Miss Sarah, but I think we shall have to go at once.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, finding himself reacting to Miss Grace’s forlorn figure with such intensity that it almost forced him to his feet.
Miss Sarah’s expression darkened at once.
“Miss Grace,” he continued, getting to his feet and giving her a bright smile. “Are you quite ready?”
She stammered her response and rose, her eyes on her sister who was, to Stephen’s astonishment, standing with her hands planted firmly on her hips, her eyes spitting fire.
“Lord Larchmont,” she said loudly, her gaze still on her sister. “If you would just wait for a few minutes, I am sure Lord Wilson and I could join you.”
He smiled genially but shook his head. “I find myself inclined to spend some time with Miss Grace on her own, Miss Sarah, since she is the one I am, in fact, courting,” he replied with a short bow. “I am quite sure you understand.”
It did not look as though she understood. In fact, it seemed as though she were more than furious that she was not about to get what she wanted. Stephen forced himself to ignore the urge to stay with her, to placate her anger by doing what she wished, and instead offered Miss Grace his arm. She took it at once.
“Do excuse us, Miss Sarah,” Stephen said as they walked towards the door. “Another time, perhaps.”
The doo
r closed behind them firmly, and Stephen exhaled hard.
“Lord Larchmont,” Miss Grace said as they walked down the stairs together towards the door. “Whatever has come over you?”
He looked down at her, seeing the confusion and the astonishment in her expression and finding himself almost laughing aloud.
“I am not quite sure, Miss Grace,” he replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “There are some things I wish to discuss with you and I find I cannot do them here. Might you be willing to talk with me?”
She held his gaze for a moment, tying her bonnet ribbons under her chin.
“Very well, Lord Larchmont,” she said softly as the butler opened the door. “I will talk with you about whatever you wish. I just hope you are aware of how furious you have made my sister and what consequences that might bring for you.”
A slow flush made its way up Stephen’s neck. “Indeed, Miss Grace, I am very aware,” he muttered, knowing that she was speaking of his once expressed love for Miss Sarah. “But I find that this is of greater importance. Come, Miss Grace. Let us walk. I will explain everything.”
Chapter Seven
Grace walked slowly beside Lord Larchmont, her heart still thundering wildly as she tried to take in all that had just occurred. Lord Larchmont had chosen her over her sister and had clearly upset Sarah in the process, but for whatever reason, he did not seem to mind.
It was all very confusing. She had never expected him to so much as give her a second glance but yet, here he was, walking beside her through the streets of London without Sarah’s company. It was the first time since their courtship had begun that they’d been alone together, albeit with a maid a few steps behind.
“Miss Grace, I have something which I must ask you. Something that you will not appreciate hearing from me, I think.”
“Oh?”
His dark eyes shot to hers, an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“I must ask you whether or not your sister treats you with all the kindness and compassion that I have been led to believe,” he said slowly, looking away from her. “I have always thought her to be considerate of you, to give you as much of her kindness as she can, but after last evening, I find myself wondering if I have been misled there.”
Grace swallowed her astonishment, her eyes widening as she looked back at Lord Larchmont, seeing the worry on his face.
“What do you mean, after last evening?” she asked, finding her voice to be somewhat hoarse. “I do not understand.”
Lord Larchmont shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a second or two. It was clear he was finding it difficult to give voice to his thoughts.
“Your sister implied that you were standing alone last evening, when I knew that you had been dancing with Lord Barnard,” he explained quietly. “I cannot help but wonder why that was—especially when it became clear that she did know exactly who you had been dancing with only a minute or so later. Was it that she wishes me to think poorly of you?”
His question had her heart sinking, her eyes filling with sudden, sharp tears that she was forced to bat away.
“I do not mean to pry,” he continued, not aware of her upset, “but after a discussion with my mother this morning, I have realized that I know very little of Miss Sarah’s character—as I know very little of yours.”
He turned them into a small woodland park and, to Grace’s relief, she saw a bench a little further away.
“Might we sit for a few moments, Lord Larchmont?” she asked, feeling suddenly weak and rather overcome. “I do not mean to importune you but—”
“Of course.”
He took her arm again and led her towards the bench, making sure she was seated before he sat by her side.
There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of birdsong high up from the treetops. Grace wanted to cry, wanted to tell him everything, but something held her back. This man loved her sister, so if she were to tell him the truth, then he might turn from them both, even though he had promised to wed her should his hopes be dashed.
“Miss Grace,” came his quiet, gentle voice. “Can you tell me honestly—do I know your sister’s true nature?”
“No.”
The word was torn from her lips, harsh and full of pain. She turned her head away as Lord Larchmont let out a long breath, battling tears.
“No, you do not know her as I do, Lord Larchmont,” she said hoarsely, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “I will not tell you all for then you will believe that I am truly setting you against her—but I am not a blessed sister, if that is what you believe.”
Lord Larchmont exhaled heavily again, and as Grace turned to look at him, she saw him rub one hand over his forehead, his eyes tightly shut.
“I do not mean to wound you with this, Lord Larchmont,” she continued quickly, worried that he was pained by her words. “But I swear to you that there is not one word of untruth in what I have said.”
His eyes opened, looking at her carefully, and Grace was astonished to see the depths of pain in his expression. It was as though his heart had been torn open, a ragged wound torn into the depths. He was struggling to accept what she was saying, she realized, her own heart growing sorry for him.
“I must hope that one day, I can find such devotion as that which you display towards my sister,” she said heavily. “She does not deserve you, Lord Larchmont.”
Lord Larchmont sat up and blew out another breath, his jaw set.
“This cannot be so,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing. “She cannot be cruel.”
Grace found herself mute, her throat aching.
“I cannot believe it,” he continued, slamming one fist down on the arm of the bench. “I cannot accept it.”
Grace held her breath, seeing the tortured expression on his face. She was aware that he was battling what he wanted to believe and what she had told him, unable to tell which one would be victorious.
“She wants your attentions, Lord Larchmont,” she said heavily, her eyes fixing to the ground. “Perhaps, in time, she will give up Lord Wilson and return to you, and so, it will not matter how she treats me. You will have what you have long desired.”
That did not bring the response she had been expecting, for Lord Larchmont let out another loud groan.
“I do not know what to believe,” he whispered, passing one hand over his eyes. “It is all too confusing.”
She reached for him but then dropped her hand, her own heart filling with hope, and then despondency, as she tried her best to find something to say.
“I do not want you to struggle, Lord Larchmont, and I do not do this so that you might become my husband, as you have agreed,” she began slowly, an idea beginning to take hold, “but mayhap there is a way to prove it to you, Lord Larchmont.”
Slowly, his eyes turned towards her and, despite the quailing in her soul, she held his gaze steadily.
“What do you mean, Miss Grace?” he asked in a voice laden with pain and confusion. “Of what are you speaking?”
“I could show you her true nature,” she said again quietly. “It would prove to you that the person you believe her to be is not who she truly is.”
“And then I would turn back to you and take you to the altar, is that not so?” he replied brusquely, his lips twisting. “This is to suit you.”
Her heart ripped but she lifted her chin high, her eyes narrow. “I will not demand that you make good on your promise, Lord Larchmont,” she replied, just as her mind began screaming at her to stop what she was saying before she turned everything on its head.
Lord Larchmont stared at her, his eyes widening just a little as Grace realized just what she had done.
Her future was doomed.
“Are you saying that you would let me see your sister for who she really is, without demanding that I take you as my bride just as I promised?” he whispered, the color gone from his face. “Why would you do something like that?”
She knew what he really wanted to ask. She
knew that he wanted to ask her how she could do such a thing when she had never had a single offer before his pretense at courtship. Swallowing her tears and ignoring her regret, Grace looked at him again, seeing the profound confusion written into his every feature.
“Lord Larchmont, I will not pretend that letting this go is easy for me to do. Nor will I say that I look forward to being married to a gentleman who is—or was—deeply in love with my sister. Perhaps this is best for both of us. I will do all I can to show you the true nature of my sister and then I shall leave the rest to you. Should you decide to step away from her and, in addition, from me, then I shall not complain nor demand any recompense. I can hope that my association with you has, in some way, allowed other gentlemen to see me as more than just a wallflower, hidden by her sister’s glory.” Her voice cracked, her emotions rising to the surface, and still he looked at her. She dropped her gaze, unable to see his bewilderment any longer as her heart cried aloud over what she had done.
“My dear Miss Grace, I believe this shows me more of what your character is truly like,” he said eventually, putting his head in his hands. “I am not quite certain what to make of this all. Only yesterday I was certain I was in love with Miss Sarah but now…”
“Now you feel as though you are being tossed on the wind, thrown in every direction,” she replied heavily. “That you are adrift, with no particular direction.”
Their eyes met and, for a moment, Grace found herself smiling softly as they both shared a moment of understanding.
Then Lord Larchmont stood up, walking a little away from the bench before coming back towards her. He did this a few times, pacing up and down, and Grace forced herself to remain silent, her heart thumping in her chest, her blood roaring in her ears as she waited for him to make a decision.
“Miss Grace, you are a very generous lady, I must say,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But I am not certain that I can align myself with a family where I was once so caught up with one of the sisters.” His eyes met hers, a wry smile on his face. “I am sure you would not like to be by my side either, in those circumstances.”
