Blinded by Grace

by Becky Lower

  “Well then, stop making me angry, dear. Don’t you realize, if you cancel the engagement now, you’ll be telling society the bump to his head has robbed Halwyn of some of his faculties, and you’re unwilling to take on the burden of his care? He’ll be labeled an imbecile, and no one will trust him with their money at the bank. You’ll destroy his livelihood along with his reputation.”

  Grace shook her head. “I merely want to keep him out of harm’s way. And to remove him from Simon’s wrath.” She toyed with the glasses in her lap. “I didn’t think of what my decision might do to Halwyn’s standing in the community. Maybe I don’t need to call things off just yet.”

  Charlotte smiled, a wide smile bordering on a grin. “Well, then, the matter is settled. You will not turn your back on my son simply because he’s in a sick bed. I will need you to help me take care of him. He’s never been ill a day in his life, but he is a man, and you know how demanding they can be when not well.”

  “But he doesn’t remember he’s engaged to me … ” Her voice trailed off.

  “So your job will be to assist his memory. The doctor said his memories would most likely return in bits and pieces. And, if he ends up not remembering what’s taken place so far with your engagement, you can begin afresh. I wouldn’t insist if I didn’t think you were perfect for my son, Grace.” Charlotte reached over and rescued Halwyn’s glasses from Grace’s hands. “You love my son, plain and simple. Am I right?”

  Grace nodded.

  “And, if I’m not mistaken, he was falling in love with you, now that his vision is no longer impaired and he can see what a lovely woman you are. I’ll get his glasses repaired. The rest will be up to you.”

  Grace smiled, even as her tears began anew. Charlotte reached out to her and wrapped her arms around the young woman. “You’re just the medicine Halwyn needs.”

  • • •

  Halwyn prided himself on his stoicism, but he had been tested, and failed, these last few days. As he settled into his bed at his parents’ home, and the effects of the pain medicine finally began to kick in, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. His long ordeal, being transported from the Bronx to the hospital and now to home, was at an end, and he could finally focus on the missing portion of his memory.

  The most puzzling part was Grace. He couldn’t remember asking for her hand in marriage. How could he not remember what surely had been one of the most momentous turning points of his life? How long had he been courting her? This behavior was so unlike him, wasting his time wooing a woman, even one as comely as Miss Wagner. He turned back the pages in his memory to what he did remember. Ah, yes, the Cotillion ball. He remembered seeing her there. He recalled dancing with her the evening of the ball. More than once? He couldn’t remember.

  So how had he gone so quickly from being a partner on the dance floor to being a life partner? Was he so smitten with her from their first moment together? After all, the dance was in April and it was now only May. Such atypical behavior for him. He enjoyed taking his time, studying all angles of a situation, and finally making a decision. This seemed rushed; despite the fact he found Grace’s angles as well as her curves quite delightful. His mother would never have allowed Grace to take care of him by herself if they weren’t properly betrothed, so he must be in love with her, and act accordingly. Not that the corresponding behavior would be much trouble. He thought he’d enjoy wooing the comely Miss Wagner.

  As if the women could hear the rumblings in his mind, his mother and Grace entered the room.

  “Oh, good, you’re still awake.” Charlotte placed her hand on his brow. “I’ve got your repaired glasses back from the doctor, and Grace has brought several books up from the library for you.”

  Halwyn placed the glasses on his face and turned to Grace. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time. The dark as night hair, her lovely blue eyes, and alabaster skin. And those lips. He remembered her as a girl, playing with his sisters, but this was a woman in front of him. A beautiful woman. No wonder he had snapped her up so fast. She smiled at him, somewhat shyly, he thought. How far had their relationship progressed, anyway? Had he kissed her before? Did she react demurely then? Had more than a kiss happened? No, surely he would remember if it had gone beyond kissing. He was still puzzling over their engagement when she handed him the books.

  “Ah, Oliver Wendell Holmes’s book on the Breakfast Table Series. I started to read this a while ago, and never could get beyond the first couple of pages.”

  Charlotte fluffed his pillows before she stood back. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a short time. Grace has agreed to move in here with us during your confinement, Halwyn, and will take care of you. She has some medical training from the suffragettes, so she’ll be able to handle all your needs.”

  Halwyn had no reply to his mother’s announcement. Or her raised eyebrow. Lovebirds? Grace would take care of him? He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, but it didn’t help.

  Grace stood alongside the bed, nervously plucking at her handkerchief. Halwyn reached up and stilled her hands. She squeaked a tiny bit at the contact.

  “Please, Grace, sit beside me and talk to me.”

  “Well, all right.” She positioned a chair alongside the bed and sat in it. He took the hankie from her hands and spread it open over the bedcover.

  “I remember this hankie.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I was home from college for a weekend or a holiday. Can’t remember which. But you were here, visiting with my sisters. I gave each of the twins a present, a handkerchief emblazoned with my school’s insignia. And because you were there too, I gave you my extra one.”

  She glanced up at him from under her lashes. “Do you remember the second time you gave the hankie to me?”

  Halwyn stared at her in confusion. “Why would I have given it to you a second time?”

  Grace sighed. “It happened several weeks ago. Part of what you don’t remember, I guess.”

  “Was it important?”

  “To me, it was everything,” she whispered as she clutched her stomach. He leaned over and took her hand.

  “Grace, I’m sorry I can’t recall what happened. But the doctor said my short-term memory will return soon. This has to be hard on you, since you’re a huge part of those missing weeks, but I will get my memories back. Why don’t you fill in the blanks for me, a bit at a time? We might speed up the process if you do.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Have we kissed yet?”

  Tears flooded Grace’s eyes. “Yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “So I am missing the knowledge of how soft your lips are?” His fingers lifted her chin so she was forced to stare at him. She quivered under his touch.

  “How could I have forgotten such an important thing?” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I believe I need to create a new memory.”

  He dipped his head and caught her lush lower lip, the one that had been driving him crazy since the moment she sat down. Soft as a rose petal. His mind was sparking as a distant, elusive thread of a memory threatened to resurface, but he instead let himself sink into the kiss even deeper, as he inhaled her lovely lilac scent. How could he ever have forgotten how perfect her mouth was?

  • • •

  Grace carefully lifted Halwyn’s new pair of glasses from his nose. She had sat beside him until he fell asleep. After removing his glasses, she lifted the book from his hands, and gasped in surprise as he grabbed hold of one of hers in his sleep. She didn’t want to wake him by forcibly removing her hand. Oh, who was she trying to kid? She never wanted to let go, and could be content to sit here all afternoon, staring at him, if he wanted. After all, she was his nurse, and her duty was to make certain all his needs were addressed.

  He had kissed her! And this time it wasn’t to seal their engagement. It wasn’t for anything official. He wanted to create a new memory for them. Her stomach fluttered as she remembered his l
ips sliding over hers. So what if, in his jumbled head, he thought they were a love match? Grace was going to indulge herself for the next few days and let him believe they had romantic feelings for each other. After all, a romance wasn’t so far off the mark, was it? His own mother believed Halwyn had been developing feelings for her. She ran her fingers over her lips, plump and bruised from contact with his.

  His lips. She studied his face, and those lips, while he slept. Even with the medicine, his face was etched in subtle pain. The crease between his eyebrows was deeper than normal, and his mouth was tightened. She longed to smooth out his brow, but feared her touch would waken him, and he was more comfortable when asleep.

  Finally, his grip relaxed and she reluctantly withdrew her hand and stood. She needed to talk to Charlotte Fitzpatrick. Halwyn’s mother said and believed the things about their relationship because she was unaware of the real reason they had gotten together. Grace was feeling duplicitous, and it didn’t set well with her. It was highly improper for her to be Halwyn’s nurse, and the time had come for the charade of their engagement to come to an end. She tiptoed from the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear the bell placed by Halwyn’s bedside for use if he woke and needed something.

  “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, may I speak to you?” Grace entered the front parlor, where Charlotte was sitting and reading a fashion magazine.

  “Certainly, my dear.” She continued to flip through the pages for a moment. “You know, American clothing designers, my Jasmine for instance, never even warrant a mention in this rag the French call a ‘high fashion’ magazine. How long will it be before American designers are considered in the same category as the French?” Charlotte finally laid the book aside with a sigh. “You’re not here to discuss fashion though, are you? What’s on your mind?”

  “Halwyn asked me to help him remember what has happened in the period between the Cotillion Ball and now. He was asking specifics, such as if we had kissed each other before.” Grace took a seat and wrung her hands together as she talked.

  “You have, haven’t you?”

  Grace nodded and then hung her head. “But it had been my idea, to seal our engagement. It was not because he wanted to.”

  Charlotte reached over and lifted Grace’s head so she could stare her in the eye. “Halwyn may be a most accommodating young man, but he’s not a fool. And he’s not likely to be talked into doing something in which he has no interest. You may have been the one doing the asking, but he obliged you eagerly enough, would be my guess. So, what happened this time?”

  “He kissed me, as a man would kiss his betrothed.” Grace turned away from Charlotte’s penetrating stare. “This is so wrong.”

  “What do you mean, Grace? So he kissed you as a man would kiss the woman he’s about to marry. I see nothing wrong with his behavior.”

  Grace lifted her eyes to Charlotte, and took a deep breath. “It’s time I tell you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I asked Halwyn to marry me, not the other way around. It was the only way I could think of to circumvent Simon, who had plans to take over the trust. The wording of the trust had been altered slightly from what is normal, and Halwyn agreed to marry me because he blamed himself and the bank for not catching the error, which put my trust in jeopardy.”

  Charlotte tapped her finger to her cheek, her eyes moving from Grace to the window as she thought. Then, she turned to Grace with a smile on her face.

  “So my son offered to cover up the bank’s blunder by agreeing to marry you, did he? Bless his heart. But, I can’t believe that even my upstanding Halwyn would do something so outrageous if he didn’t want to. My guess is you didn’t have to twist his arm too terribly hard, did you?”

  Grace thought back to that day in the bank. “No, now that you mention it, he agreed a lot faster than I thought he would. In fact, I fully expected to be tossed out of his office on my ear.”

  “Well, then, it’s just as I thought. Halwyn wants to be married, but he had been objecting to all the courtship rituals that must be undertaken in polite society. You provided him with a perfect solution. And, best of all, he was falling in love with you. A mother can tell these things.”

  Hope swelled in Grace’s heart. “So, you think I should continue to let him think we are a true couple?”

  “Yes, Grace, I believe it is entirely the right thing to do. He’ll get his memory back soon enough and will realize this bump on his noggin only hastened events for him. He was falling in love with you, Grace, a little at a time. There is nothing wrong with pushing him forward a little.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because I know my son. And I know, to the bottom of my soul, this time, I got things right. My efforts as a matchmaker were tested with Ginger, Heather, and Jasmine, but I’m as certain as I could ever be you’re a perfect match for my Halwyn. Now, I’ll have no more talk about duplicity. Your job is to take care of Halwyn and get him on the road to recovery. And if taking his mind off his pain by kissing him senseless is what you have to do, well, then, you must acquiesce to his bidding.”

  Grace smiled for the first time since leaving Halwyn’s room. “If you insist, Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”

  A bell jingled from the upstairs. Charlotte patted her hand. “Back to work with you. And I meant what I said about kissing him until he can no longer see straight, even with his new glasses. I’m off to have a talk with your mother to explain how much we need you here right now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Grace hurried back to Halwyn’s bedside, her talk with Charlotte Fitzpatrick uppermost in her mind. She smiled at him as she entered his room.

  “You didn’t stay asleep long. Did your pain wake you?”

  Halwyn’s eyes never left her as she ran a hand over his brow, finally able to smooth out the line she had so wanted to touch while he was sleeping.

  “I was hoping to speak to Mother. Is she available?”

  Grace’s smile faded from her face. Despite what Mrs. Fitzpatrick had just told her, Grace doubted her usefulness. And now, Halwyn had reinforced her thoughts. He wanted his mother to take care of him, not her. There was no need for tender kisses.

  “No, sorry. Your mother just stepped out for a few minutes. What can I help you with?”

  Halwyn seemed agitated, and he avoided her gaze as he cleared his throat.

  “I, uh, seem to be in urgent need of a chamber pot.”

  Grace’s cheeks burned. “Oh, certainly. Let me get it for you.” She brought the ceramic pot to the bedside and stood there, not certain what to do next. Should she offer her help? Good Lord, she hoped not. How embarrassing would that be, for both Halwyn and herself. She, too, wished for Charlotte Fitzpatrick to magically appear and relieve this awkward situation.

  Halwyn’s lopsided grin appeared. “If you’ll hand the chamber pot to me, I’ll take it from there.” He reached out his hand to her.

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Grace stumbled over her words as she thrust the bucket at him. The lid popped off the pot and went rolling across the floor, and she chased after it. The noise of the enamel hitting the wood floor was bad enough, but the fact it rolled on its edge across the floorboards was even worse. Grace finally retrieved it and glanced up at him, her cheeks ablaze. “Sorry again.”

  His smile grew wider, greatly amused by her antics, which only made things worse. She set the chamber pot on top of the counterpane, replaced the lid, and stood stiffly beside the bed.

  Halwyn glanced at her. “Grace, did I mention this was rather urgent?” His hand held hers and he brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a gentle kiss. “Why don’t you see about getting a pot of tea for me while I take care of this?”

  Grace pulled her hand away from him, reluctantly, and took a step back from the bed, running her hand over her hair. “Yes, that’s a grand idea. Take your time, Halwyn.”

  “And, Grace, could you play the pianoforte for me this afternoon? I’ve been told music helps the healing process. Even Percy Bysshe Shelley says music is �
�where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild,’ which certainly describes my scrambled brain right now.”

  “Certainly. Whatever you want.” She rushed from the room, her cheeks aflame. She held her hands to her face, hoping to tamp down the redness she was certain was apparent, as she hurried down four flights of stairs to the kitchen.

  As she waited for Cook to prepare the tea, she sat at the table in the big, warm, and comfortable kitchen with the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air. She ran a finger over the knuckles on her hand, where Halwyn’s lips had just been. The heat from his touch rivaled the warmth in her cheeks. How could a simple touch evoke such a response, and open a torrent of emotion within her?

  This was wrong. So wrong. To play with Halwyn’s feelings as she was doing was tantamount to torture. He only thought he cared for her, because he had been told of their engagement. But he couldn’t remember the real reason for their decision to wed, and it was not right to let him think they actually cared for each other. No, correct that. She was in love with him, and had been for seven long years. She held on to every glance, every kindness, every word he had cast her way during those years. Without even being aware of her, beyond knowing she was friends with his sisters, he managed to keep her company at night, as she would trot out each conversation, each time he noticed her, and relive in detail every encounter. He had no idea she had feelings for him. He was merely being the nice, gentle, helpful soul that he had always been.

  She was so envious of the Fitzpatrick siblings, who had each other to entertain themselves with, while she was an only child. And very much alone, now that her father—who’d adored her—was gone.

  She would have to reveal to Halwyn the true details of their relationship soon. She didn’t feel right about continuing the charade. Perhaps when she delivered his tea to him, she would also explain about their contrived marriage. Or perhaps tomorrow.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN