“Yes, ma’am.”
Charlotte did not say another word. It was rare that Grace set boundaries with Charlotte. She had been a most loyal servant, and it had been so nice to have her own personal maid. Charlotte finished buttoning the back of the dress and then set to do her hair.
“No, I will fix my hair myself.” Grace could see the displeasure on Charlotte’s face.
There was nothing more to say. Goodbyes were not Grace’s strength. She would not waste her efforts in saying goodbye to Charlotte when she would need every bit of her fortitude to say goodbye to Gavin.
When she was finished, Grace looked in the mirror. She felt ten years older than she was, but at the same time, she felt like a little girl again, with all the pain of ten years ago. Her thoughts returned to those first few months when she had waited by the window, eagerly watching the road for a message from him. When she wasn’t digging for potatoes in the cold ground, she would write long letters to Gavin telling him how much she missed him. She would have to be stronger this time. She could not return to that same lost, lonely soul.
Enough of that! You survived before; you will survive again. At least this time you will be able to say goodbye. But she wasn’t sure that would make it any easier.
With new determination, she fortified herself and walked out of her chambers. At the top of the stairs, she paused to look down at the enormous marble entryway. Gavin was right; the stairs were very tightly wound and did not make good use of the space. There were two tables with fresh flowers along the sides, but other than that, the room was empty. Sconces were lit on the walls, giving it a soft, welcoming look. She was surprised how quickly Willsing Manor had begun to feel like home. She would miss it.
She began her descent. With each step, she hardened her heart to what she would be facing. He might care for her, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. Another step.
It could be as simple as telling him she did not want to ruin his reputation. He could hardly afford another scandal. Another two steps.
Besides, it would be too painful for him to align himself with any woman who had nearly married the future Earl of Longmont. One more.
He probably wished to be released from the engagement now anyway. She was doing him a favor. Two more steps.
Informing him of her decision would just save him the discomfort of asking her to leave. Another step.
He might inquire as to her purity. She knew he was jealous of her relationship with Broadbent. She still hadn’t disclosed the truth, as chaste as it was. That took three steps and stole her breath, because if he asked that, it would confirm that he did not trust her. She would have to be strong. Stronger than she had ever been.
Even if he still felt obligated to marry her, she couldn’t let that happen. Two more steps.
There were just a few more steps to go. She paused, closed her eyes, and prayed.
Give me the grace to handle this. Help me to do what is right. Help me to free him from the only thing I ever wanted. She took a deep breath and stepped down to the landing. She was ready.
“Do you feel better, Gigi?” She was startled to hear Gavin’s voice behind her. Twirling around, she saw him under the stairs. He stepped into the candlelight. “Come, sit with me,” he coaxed. He took her arm and led her to a small sofa under the stairs that she had never noticed was there. Perhaps he had just moved it there. She took a seat and braced herself. Should she start, or should she let him ask the questions?
Their silence filled the small, dark corner. She could read each and every curve of his face in this soft candlelight. He was incredibly handsome. He smelled heavenly. This was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.
“You used to wear your hair like this when we were children,” he observed. “Do you usually do it this way?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I do not have Charlotte’s skill for embellishment.”
He leaned in and smelled her tresses. “Mmm . . . cinnamon. Such a relaxing and comforting smell. The cook cannot understand why I suddenly want cinnamon desserts every day. I just cannot get enough of the smell.”
“Gavin, please do not make this harder than it is.”
“Make what harder? I am just saying that I adore the way you smell.”
“We both know that we can never be.”
“Hmm . . . Is that so?” Gavin murmured.
“Yes.”
“Why is that, Gigi?”
“Do not call me that.”
“Why not? You never cared before.”
Grace stood and said, “I cannot do this. I cannot sit here and listen to you say sweet things only to break my heart. I know you think I was improper with Mr. Broadbent. And Fresden has ruined my reputation. You could never bind yourself with me now. So, let us say it plainly.”
“And how would you say it, Grace?” his voice was soft and velvety in the darkness.
She stepped away and turned to leave, but he restrained her arm. She pleaded, “Please . . . just allow me the chance to say goodbye this time. Let me have a little dignity.”
“Is that what you want? To say goodbye?”
She wanted to shake her head violently, but all she could do was blink back tears. She had lost herself in his arms twice already, once in the carriage and once again in her chambers. She was not sure she was strong enough to endure his kindnesses a third time. “I am sorry, I cannot do this. Goodbye, Gavin.” She shook off his arm and walked toward the stairs to do one last sweep of her room.
“To the death!”
She froze with one foot on the first stair. “What did you say?” she whispered.
“I challenge you to the death.” His voice was stern and commanded her attention. For the first time, he sounded like a duke.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am more serious than I have ever been. But instead of climbing the ladder to the treehouse, we will use these stairs. You know the rules, Gigi. You must be honest with me. Every. Single. Step. If I suspect you are hiding something or not being honest, you must let go and fall to your death.” The last part was said with emphasis.
Yes, she remembered the rules. She knew that it was a game that he had invented to make her confide in him, to make them trust each other. If she were dishonest, then she had to let go and hope that he would catch her. “I know the rules.”
“And I know you never back down from a challenge.”
“Of course not, but, Gavin, this is a childhood game. We are adults now.”
“Adults who have had far too many missed opportunities. Ten years’ worth. So I challenge you to the death.”
“If I reach the top, will you let me go?”
He paused. “If that is what you want,” he replied. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it had to be done.
She turned her back to him and took a step. “I accept,” she said over her shoulder. It was easier not to look at his face.
There was a prolonged moment before he began. “Did you truly sing The True Lover’s Farewell during those ten years when you missed me?”
“Yes. I always thought of you when I sang that song.”
“You may step up.” She did so. “If you had known I was the Duke of Huntsman, would you have sought me out sooner?”
She swallowed her pride and answered as honestly as possible. “I always hoped I would find you again, and I wish I had sought you out—but not because of your title. That means nothing to me.”
“I believe you. Step up.” He stepped onto the step behind her. She could feel the heat from his body, and it stirred her. Tiny sparks surged between them.
“What are you doing, Gavin?”
“I am just getting ready to catch you.”
“Are you afraid I will be dishonest?”
“I think you are afraid to be honest with yourself.”
“Continue with the challenge. I never back down.”
“Very well. Before I ask this next question, let me preface it by saying that I did more research on the
biblical definition of grace.”
She spun around in surprise only to find she was nearly lip to lip with him. She quickly turned her back to him again. “You mean you studied it more since we talked before the ball?”
“Yes. I even had a discussion with Winston. But this was my challenge, so I get to ask the questions. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She put one foot on the next stair, making a slightly larger gap between them.
“Not so fast. I have not asked my question yet. According to the Bible, the grace of God is something that can never be taken away, no matter how grievously one sins. In fact, it is the very thing that saves us. Regardless of whether I have lived a perfect life or sinned every sin known to mankind, I would still need and qualify for God’s grace. Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Take a step.” She did so, and he followed with one of his own. His breath was warm on her neck. She involuntarily shivered. “Grace, I am not perfect. I failed you. It was wrong of me not to trust you.”
“Yes, it was.”
“That deserves a step,” he chuckled, and she stepped up. His tone became more serious again. “But are you really so afraid to forgive me that you are willing to say goodbye forever?”
It was the moment she dreaded. He had asked for honesty—it was the very rules of the game—and she had to decide what to do. Did she trust him? She put a hand on the rail, and he put his hand right over hers, making their entire arms brush up against each other. She closed her eyes and spoke. “Everyone in my life has failed me. I always told myself that you were the exception, that you had not really abandoned me. But you chose to think the worst about me. I do not know what hurt worse—wondering if you ever loved me, or realizing that your love was not strong enough.”
There was silence for a full half a minute. His hand squeezed hers, and she felt a pressure on her back encouraging another step so she stepped up, and he followed. He moved his other hand down to her waist. It was as if they were dancing the waltz with her turned the wrong way.
“Do you love me?”
She did not hesitate on this question. “I will never love another more.” The honesty was getting easier. She was nearly half way to the top now. Freedom was a few questions away.
“You may step up two steps because I like that answer so much.”
Did he wish her to reach the top?
Gavin squeezed her hand and asked, “Is there any hope for you to forgive me?”
This question was a hard one. “Gavin, I know my limits. I must depend on my own strength.”
“That was not entirely forthcoming. I will give you one more try.”
“Very well. It would take some time, but yes, I could forgive you.”
He squeezed her hand again, and she took that as an indicator to step up. When he followed this time he moved his hand on her waist around to her front and pulled her up against his chest. She resisted the urge to melt into the curves of his body. He whispered into her ear, sending tingles and goose bumps up and down her body, “Grace.”
“Yes?” she managed to breathlessly whisper.
“I was not calling your name. I am begging you for grace. Grace is when you have done all you can do and someone else makes up the difference. I know I failed you. I am so sorry. I have apologized for being a muttonhead. I have done all I can to seek your forgiveness. Now I need your grace, Gigi. Please.”
“I will never hurt you again,” he vowed. “I swear it made me more unhappy than I have ever been. Now that I have had a week with you under my roof, there will be nothing to live for without you. We belong together. I need you. And needing someone is loving someone. Please tell me you need me too. I need my best friend to hold me when I am sad, to challenge me when I am bacon-brained, to correct me when I am in error, to give me confidence when I am in doubt. I have done all I can do, but now I need your grace.”
Slowly her body relaxed at his tender words. He nestled his face in her neck, placing tantalizing kisses on it. The heat from his lips purged her of all the fear she ever had. “I need you too. I love you, Gavin.”
He took their hands off the rail and wrapped them around her front, clasping her tightly. He gently squeezed her hands and said, “I am afraid to tell you to step up, but I know that to be an honest answer.”
Together they stepped up, their bodies as one.
His lips traveled up to her ear, and he nibbled on the lobe. Gavin paused momentarily and said, “I love you too. You are so very dear to me. Please say you will not leave me again. I cannot endure another goodbye. I shall fight for your heart every day. I will be worthy of your trust. I will never fail you again. Will you, Grace Ingrid Genevieve Iverson, marry me? Please, Gigi. What can I say to make you stay? Tell me what you want, anything, and I will deliver it to your hands.”
She stepped up two steps, extracting herself from his arms, leaving only one stair left before the top. She turned toward him. Every sense was piqued. She knew she owed him full honesty for her two premature steps. “Kiss me. Kiss me, Your Grace, and I will marry you.”
His voice was deep and husky as he murmured, “I cannot deliver that to your hands.”
He reached toward her face and, as smoothly and gracefully as she had ever seen him move, he glided the last two steps between them. Their chests were nearly touching, and he gazed so lovingly in her eyes that fire surged through her as she prepared for what was coming. He tilted her head, and their lips met. They merged together so well that they could not decipher where one began and the other ended. They were one, as it should be. They both took the last step and reached the top.
Suddenly every vacant, lonely part of her heart disappeared, and she was filled with his grace. He had saved her in every way.
CHAPTER 19
Gavin kissed her with all the passion he had held back for ten years. He had known she would try to leave. But despite everything that had happened in the last two days—and despite the lonely years apart, the drinking, and the foreign ladies—she had forgiven him. She loved him like he had always loved her. It seemed inconceivable that he deserved someone so brave and valiant.
He heard a ruckus down the hall but decided that claiming her lips a half a second longer was worth the risk of being seen. When he did pull away, the shadows on her face gave her an angelic glow. He smirked and rubbed his fingers across her cheek, which prompted her to open her groggy eyes. He was struck with the vision in front of him, but the ruckus was getting louder.
He turned to look down the hall and saw her trunks being hauled out of her chambers. Grace noticed it as well, and if her cheeks were not rosy from the kisses, they were now aglow with mortification.
“I suppose we have several things to discuss,” Grace said.
“There is nothing to discuss.” Gavin took her hand, and together they walked down the hall. “If those are Grace’s trunks, you may unpack them. She is not leaving,” he instructed Charlotte.
Grace pulled on his hand, “Gavin, I cannot stay here if we are engaged.”
“You most certainly can! My mother is a fine chaperone; if you have any doubt, I am sure she would be eager to review the rules again.” Grace looked unswayed by his reasoning. “Gigi, I do not care if I have to hire a dozen armed nuns to chaperone you day and night, but I have no intention of letting you out of my sight. Perhaps I could rent an entire convent. Would you feel better if I invited the Archbishop of Canterbury to stay?”
Grace rolled her eyes at him. “Gavin, are you familiar with the legal definition of ‘imprisonment’?” she giggled. “I cannot stay here!”
He ignored her and turned again toward the servant. “Grace and I would like tea in the library. Please inform my mother that she is welcome to come scrutinize us. And do unpack that thing and take it all the way up to the attic. I do not wish to see it again for many months.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Come,” he informed Grace, “we can discuss the details of your nunnery guard tomorrow. Right no
w we have a footman to interview.”
They walked together back to the narrow, tightly wound staircase. Gavin graciously let her go first.
She paused halfway down and put her hand to her nose. The daintiest sneeze escaped. “Pardon me. I fear I may be catching a cold.”
“You should drink peppermint tea. It clears the sinuses.”
She giggled and replied, “Thank you, doctor.”
He chuckled. “Could you not let me feel for just a moment longer that I had the world by the tail? Must you always measure, weigh, and dissect my ego?”
Giggling, she looked over her shoulder and said, “What kind of wife would be if I did that?” They reached the bottom of the stairs, and she turned and put her hands on her hips. “You love that about me.”
He tried not to smile. He took the very hips she was using to make her point, and pulling them toward to him, he smothered her with kisses again. He gave her hips a squeeze and said, “I love everything about you. Do not ever forget it.”
Her eyes smiled back at him, and he guided her the rest of the way to the library. As they entered, Tim jumped up from his sitting position and bowed stiffly.
“Your Grace, Miss Iverson, forgive me,” he stammered. “I was summoned to the library an hour ago and was told to wait until you arrived.”
Gavin did not acknowledge his tardiness nor Tim’s apology, but Grace did. “Hello, Timothy,” she said kindly. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Have a seat.” The tea was brought in, and Grace poured some tea for Tim, who took it warily.
“Thank you,” he replied.
Gavin wanted to demand answers, but something told him to let Grace guide this interrogation. She started by asking about Tim’s family. Her words were considerate and attentive, as if she truly cared about them. Tim’s tone soon softened to match hers.
“My ma is all alone now,” Tim confided. “My pa took an early grave a few months back. My younger sister is hoping to find a place to offer her services. She is a fine seamstress.”
“What is your sister’s name?”
“Alice.”
“What a beautiful name! I suppose your mother and sister must be very proud of you and your position here.”
Inspired by Grace Page 20
