by Emma Evans
There was a deeper level that he wanted to reach, a furthering of their acquaintance that would bring him more than just a momentary happiness. It would bring him a lifetime of joy.
It was an uncomfortable realization, for he had never considered having any kind of true affection for the lady he was pretending to court with intention. However, he could not pretend that there was nothing in his heart for Miss Grace—for it was quite the opposite. He could not pretend that he did not enjoy her company, that he did not find her conversation to be both engaging and witty, and that the way she smiled at him made him smile back at once, his heart warm and full of happiness.
Was there a chance that she felt more for him than just a simple friendship? Could there be any more for them?
“Ah, Lord Larchmont!”
Turning his head, Stephen saw none other than the Viscountess Larkridge approaching, her two daughters behind her. His eyes sought Miss Grace before even thinking of Miss Sarah, surprised and concerned to see her eyes rather red-rimmed.
“How good to see you this evening, Viscountess Larkridge,” he murmured, bowing. “I do hope you have brought Miss Kingston over so that I might be the first to write my name on her dance card?”
The Viscountess smiled, and yet there was something of concern in her eyes.
“Of course, Lord Larchmont. I would be glad to see it. In fact, perhaps you might consider taking Grace for a short walk in the gardens or sit in a quiet area of the balcony for a time. It is still a little light outside so there will not be any question of impropriety, although I would be glad to send someone with you.”
There is something wrong.
Forcing himself not to look questioningly at Miss Grace, Stephen gave the Viscountess a small bow. “But, of course, my lady. I shall return her to you very shortly.”
She inclined her head, gesturing for Grace to step forward. Stephen offered his arm and she took it at once, surprised at how she almost seemed to cling to him.
“Shall we, Miss Grace?”
There was no response other than a small nod and, making his way carefully through the crush of guests, Stephen led Grace towards the doors that led to the gardens. Given that it was still a little light outside, there were a few guests already milling around outside, each enjoying the cool air instead of the already warm ballroom.
“Is something the matter, Miss Grace?”
There was nothing said, and as Stephen looked down at her, he caught sight of a few sharp, jagged red lines cut into her skin.
His breath hissed out of his mouth, suddenly realizing why she might be so quiet.
“Goodness, Grace,” he whispered, looking down at her. “What on earth has happened?”
She tipped her face up to his. “Nothing of import.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Were you attacked, Grace?”
Flushing, she looked away. “It is not important, Lord Larchmont. Please.”
“I think it is important,” he replied firmly. “Tell me, Grace. Please.”
He realized then that she was hesitating, wondering why she was doing so only to understand that they had never shared anything particularly personal before. Their conversations had revolved around things that they both enjoyed, instead of all they thought and felt about certain things. It had seemed better that way, each hiding the truth from the other—but now Stephen was desperate to know what had caused her pain and what had made her so deeply upset.
“Here,” he said, leading her towards a bench that sat a little away from the other guests, although still within their sight, the path well-lit by lanterns. “Your mother clearly expects me to care for you and yet you will not say a word.”
She shook her head, her eyes closed tightly. “Please, Lord Larchmont.”
There was a brief silence as he looked at her, waiting for her eyes to open and for her to look at him. When she finally did, all he saw was agony.
“Was it Miss Sarah?” he breathed, tipping her chin up with one gentle finger. “Why would she do this to you, Grace?”
It all came out in a rush, her words falling over one another like raindrops desperate to be the first to make it to the ground.
“She wants me to leave you behind, Lord Larchmont. She does not wish for me to continue in this courtship, for fear that we might become… ” She closed her eyes and looked away. “Sarah has always wanted your attentions, Lord Larchmont. Perhaps you can give her what she wants.”
Stephen was stunned, his eyes lingering on the pink marks on her chest, the mottled red beneath her eyes, and feeling a deep sense of anger rising up in him.
“I should not have told you,” Grace continued softly, her face still turned away. “My family believes that there is something true between us and that is why my mother pushed me towards you.” A quiet, sad laugh escaped her, her eyes slowly turning back to meet his. “It appears that, finally, my mother has realized the truth about Sarah’s character. I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to have her by my side.” A strangled sob left her throat and Stephen felt his heart constrict, his sympathy and compassion coming crashing down over him.
For years, Grace had been the one left behind. She had been forced to live in her sister’s shadow whilst her parents had doted on one daughter and neglected the other. Sarah had been allowed to become spiteful and cruel, all the while putting a gentle and kind façade forward to almost everyone that surrounded her… even towards him. He did not need Grace to show him anything to prove her sister’s cruel nature towards her. The agony in Grace’s expression was enough to convince him.
“Grace,” he whispered, putting his hand over hers. “I know that I have been going from one thing to the next but let us set it all to rights. I will be courting you in earnest, with every honest intention. I can do nothing else.”
To his surprise, she shook her head fervently.
“I do not want your pity, Lord Larchmont,” she said hoarsely. “I do not want you to feel obliged, especially when none of this is your doing. I will not stand for it, you see. Whilst I thank you for the kindest of offers, I must decline. You have become a good friend and I will always appreciate that.”
There was a lump growing in Stephen’s throat as she spoke, as though his heart was being slowly ripped into tiny little pieces. The thought of his life without Grace in it was a life that seemed dull and grey, lacking sunshine and warmth of any kind.
“No, Grace, this is not because of pity,” he said firmly, gently tilting her chin and seeing the tears on her cheeks. “I swear it to you. I have found these last weeks to be wonderful, finding myself looking forward to seeing you again. I cannot do without you, Grace. I mean to court you, if you will accept it.”
Her eyes were filled with confusion and pain, as though she did not quite believe him—and Stephen knew he could not blame her for that. He had been confused himself, but had been both close and distant with her at the same time. Now, however, looking into her eyes and seeing the damage her sister had done to her, both inside and out, he found himself with a deep sense of compassion and a longing to show her that she was beautiful, courageous, honorable and worthy of respect from everyone she met.
Even from him.
“And what of my sister?” she asked throatily. “What of the love you had for her?”
Shaking his head, Stephen let out a long sigh. “I do not think of her now, Grace. These last weeks I have thought of none but you. Can you trust me that what I am saying is the truth?”
He waited with bated breath, hoping—praying—that she would believe him, that she would accept him and that, most of all, she would allow him his court.
“I—I am not sure what I believe,” she said eventually, her tears finally drying as she looked back at him steadily. “But you may court me, Lord Larchmont, just as you have been. In time, perhaps all will become a little clearer for us both.”
“It is already clear to me,” Stephen replied fervently. “But I will accept your answer for the time being. I am aware that I hav
e been a somewhat difficult man these last weeks.”
She managed a small smile. “Yes, Lord Larchmont, you have been.”
He chuckled and pressed her hand. “I hope I have helped soothe your pain, Miss Grace. Shall we return inside?”
Getting to her feet, she paused for a moment, one hand on his arm as she looked up into his face. “Thank you, Lord Larchmont. I believe you truly are a very kind gentleman and, despite everything, someone I am glad to know.”
The words warmed his heart, bringing a soft smile to his face. “As am I, Miss Grace. As am I.”
Chapter Twelve
Stephen smiled as he saw Grace frown slightly, her brows furrowing together as she turned the page of her book.
Apparently, something about the plot confused her greatly. He allowed his gaze to linger on her for a short while, a smile spreading across his face as he did so. She was perfection itself, even though her bonnet was slightly askew with a few gentle curls escaping from it to brush against her forehead. She was concentrating on what she was reading, her eyes darting down the lines of the page, and Stephen found himself eager to speak to her, unable to wait a moment longer.
“I think I shall have to purchase this title for you, Miss Grace,” he murmured, coming towards her and seeing her jump in surprise. “How fortuitous that I should run into you this afternoon.”
She blushed and closed the book, her lips curving into a slightly self-conscious smile. It had been a week since their conversation at the ball and, since that night, Stephen had seen her begin to blossom like a beautiful red rose coming into bloom. Whether it was because she did not have her sister’s hatred directed towards her with such vehemence any longer or because of his renewed attentions, he could not say, although he hoped it was the latter.
“How very good to see you, Lord Larchmont,” she murmured softly, her eyes meeting his. Stephen felt a dart of anticipation run down his spine, unable to take his eyes from hers as she continued speaking. “I did not expect to see you until this evening.”
They were to attend a ball at Lord and Lady Donaldson’s home—a Scottish Lord who had come to London to marry off his daughter—and Stephen found himself already anticipating having Miss Grace in his arms as they danced.
“And yet here I am,” he murmured, taking a small step closer to her. “I do hope you will save me at least one waltz, Miss Grace? I would like both, but perhaps that would not be the done thing.”
She chuckled, batting his arm. “Of course that would not be the done thing, Lord Larchmont, as well you know.” He caught her hand for a moment, pressing it as he grinned at her.
“You are quite ridiculous, Lord Larchmont,” she finished, shaking her head. “I know full well that you are teasing me.”
He laughed, his heart filled with happiness at seeing her so delighted. “And yet I wish it was the ‘done thing’ as you say, for then I should have you all to myself for the most intimate of dances. Both of them would suit me very well.”
Her laughter died away as she looked back at him, her eyes slightly widened as she took in what he had said. Her cheeks were growing pink, a small smile curving her lips, and Stephen felt the urge to take her in his arms right there in the bookshop begin to grow.
“My dear Miss Grace,” he whispered, moving even closer to her. “I think I—” He came to a stumbling stop, not quite sure what he was trying to say, only for Miss Grace herself to put her hand on his arm and look up into his face. There was such an openness there that he felt himself grow suddenly weak, his heart thundering wildly.
“We have been much more open with one another of late, have we not, Lord Larchmont?” she asked softly, her lips still curved in a smile. “I find myself growing closer to you with every day that passes.”
The blood roared in his ears as he put one arm around her waist, all too aware that they were alone in this corner of the bookshop. “Indeed, Miss Grace,” he replied hoarsely. “I feel much the same.”
“I am glad to hear it,” came the gentle reply. “I cannot tell you how wonderful this last week has been, Lord Larchmont, and I know that I have you to thank for that. You have brought a spark of life and of hope back to my once despondent heart.”
He lowered his head. “And you have begun to fill mine, Miss Grace.”
He had every intention of kissing her right then and there, only for the sound of his mother’s voice to reach his ears and, in a sudden hurry, he stepped back and released Miss Grace who, with her face flushed a bright crimson, turned her head away from his.
“Ah, Larchmont, there you are. Are you quite ready? I thought to… oh, Miss Grace! Do excuse me. I did not see you there.”
Stephen closed his eyes tightly as his mother smiled from one to the other, a knowing look in her eye.
“I was just browsing when Lord Larchmont stumbled on me,” he heard Miss Grace say, a note of mirth in her voice. “It is very good to see you again, my lady.”
“As it is to see you,” the Dowager replied. Stephen opened his eyes to see Miss Grace hiding a smile as his mother shot him a wide smile. “Now, am I to leave you with my son or—?”
“Thank you, my lady, but I must return home to prepare for this evening’s ball,” Miss Grace replied warmly. “I do hope we can meet again soon.”
The Dowager took Miss Grace’s hands in her own. “As do I, my dear. Do call again soon. I miss your good conversation and Larchmont insists on keeping you to himself!”
Miss Grace blushed prettily, her eyes darting up to Stephen’s for a moment before she took her leave.
“I look forward to seeing you this evening, Lord Larchmont,” she said quietly as she passed. “I should return home now.”
He caught her hand, forgetting entirely about his mother’s presence for a moment as he pressed his lips to it, kissing the back of her hand gently. He heard her swift intake of breath and felt a kick of passion in his gut, seeing her gaze fly up to meet his.
“Until this evening, Miss Grace,” he murmured quietly, his eyes lingering on her until she left the shop.
His mother cleared her throat quietly, drawing his attention.
“I am sorry if I interrupted something, Larchmont,” she said with a wide smile. “Although I am glad to see that things are progressing between you both.”
Stephen shrugged, not particularly wishing to discuss the matter. “We get along very well, Mother, yes.”
A shout of laughter came from her, startling the bookshop keeper at the other end of the shop—not that the Dowager seemed to notice.
“My dear boy, the way you look at her tells me that you care for her more deeply than perhaps you yourself are willing to admit!” his mother laughed, shaking her head. “And I can tell that she is not unaffected by your presence either.”
A slight frown appeared between Stephen’s eyebrows, his lips pressed together.
“Do not tell me that you have never considered her in that light!” his mother exclaimed, seeing his confusion. “You do know that you love her, don’t you?”
“Love?”
The word was pulled from him, leaving him staggered. He had not loved anyone before, not even Miss Sarah. He had realized that what he had felt for her was nothing more than infatuation, which, combined with longing, had ended in a desperate desire for her to return to him, even though he knew nothing about her. What he had built with Miss Grace, on the other hand, was something that was already deeper than any association he had ever had before with a lady.
“Of course it is love,” his mother replied, much more quietly. “You are caught up with her in your thoughts, you look forward to seeing her and the time you spend with her makes you long for more.” Her gaze drifted away, her eyes a little sad. “I remember it well.”
Stephen drew in a long breath, choosing to put such thoughts away for a time. “I know you miss Father.”
“I do miss him,” his mother replied, her gaze growing steady as she looked back at him. “But I would not have changed one moment of our l
ives together. We loved one another with our whole selves and it was that love that kept us going, even when things were difficult. Mark my words, Larchmont, if you find a lady that you care for, that you love and that you believe you can build a future with, then do not turn away from her, not even for a moment. Do not tell yourself that you can do without her, that you are not ready for such a strong commitment as matrimony. Do not try to shy away from it. Examine your heart, accept your feelings for what they are and move forward with them. I promise that you will not regret it.”
Stephen was not quite sure what to say, seeing the firmness of his mother’s expression and realizing that what she was saying was more than true. He had been enjoying his time with Grace but had not stopped to think about what it might mean for his own heart.
“You will think about what I have said, won’t you, Larchmont?”
He nodded, offering his mother his arm. “Of course I will, Mother. You know that I take your words with the greatest of consideration.”
She chuckled. “That is because I am wiser than you know, my dear.”
He laughed then, patting her hand. “You have never let me down yet, Mother. I know that you want my best.”
There was a short silence as they meandered their way to the front of the shop.
“For what it is worth, Larchmont, I think Miss Grace is a wonderful young lady,” she said quietly, pausing for just a moment to look up at him. “If it were to come to it, I want you to know that you would have my blessing.”
Stephen swallowed hard, aware of what his mother was saying. “Thank you, Mother. I appreciate your honesty in this.”
She smiled at him then, her lined face almost glowing. “Just do not leave it too long, Larchmont. That young lady deserves to know the truth about your heart and, if I am right, I think you will find your feelings returned. Your happiness depends on your honesty with her. Trust me when I say that you will not regret sharing your heart with her.”
