His Saving Grace (2 page)

Prudence was pouring tea, and everyone was talking to one another before the serious business of planning the festival commenced. Grace sat next to her best friend, Lady Sara Emerson. Lady Sara was the daughter of the marquess of Grandview, a quiet person but reliable: hence the reason she was a committee member. Sara would accomplish any task given to her, even the menial ones, without a word of protest. Grace and Sara had become fast friends when Grace moved to Hadley Springs after her marriage to Michael. Sara tended to disappear into the shadows, especially during social situations, but once Grace had broken through Sara’s shyness, she’d discovered a gem in the soft-spoken woman.

Sara smiled at Grace and moved to make room for her on the settee, but as soon as Grace sat, Sara’s smile faltered. “What is wrong?” she whispered in her soft way.

Grace shook her head, not wanting to get into the story here, where many ears were listening even though they pretended not to be. Sara’s concerned gaze took in Grace’s.

“Not now,” Grace murmured, then smiled up at Violet, Prudence’s daughter, as the girl handed Grace her tea.

Just as Prudence was about to start the meeting, Clara Ashworth, the current countess of Blackbourne, swept in and Grace’s heart sank. Of course Clara would be here. She would not miss this opportunity to gloat and spread the news that Grace was to marry.

Clara’s attendance at the church meetings were sporadic. Usually, she attended only when she had some important piece of gossip or when she felt in a particularly gloating mood. Today would fulfill both of those intents.

The other women tittered, for it was a coup to have the countess at their humble meetings. Never mind that Grace, the dower countess, attended every meeting. Moods shifted. Alliances came and went. She understood that. What she didn’t understand was why these women simpered over the likes of Clara. She was sometimes cruel, often insensitive, and always self-involved.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Clara said breathlessly as she settled on the other settee. After she made two women move.

She was a pretty woman with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was short but round in all the right places. She came from money but not nobility. Her father was a merchant, having earned his wealth in shipping and textiles. She had been thrilled at Michael’s death, for it elevated her to the lofty title of countess. And like her husband, she took to the title with relish and vehemence and never for a moment let anyone forget who she was. For the most part, Grace had little to do with her except for her periodic appearances at their biweekly festival meetings, in which Grace suffered Clara’s superiority in silence and with a smile.

“I know the meeting is about to be under way,” Clara said. “But I just have to ask if the dowager countess told you her wonderful news.”

Everyone’s heads swiveled to look at Grace, their gazes alight with not only interest but also the expectation that they would be the first to learn a very interesting on-dit
.
Sara shifted and cast a quick look at Grace.

“Do tell, my lady,” Violet said. Prudence, sitting next to her daughter, nodded vigorously.

Grace cleared her throat, despising Clara at the moment. She did not want anyone knowing until she could sort it all out in her mind. Curse Nigel. She would not put it past him to tell Clara to announce it at their meeting, thus boxing Grace in and forcing her acquiescence.

“Yes, well. I just recently found out myself.” She shot Clara a glare, but the woman merely smiled back.

“Well, you can’t leave us wondering, my lady. What is this wonderful news?” Prudence asked, nearly vibrating with interest. There were few occasions when Prudence allowed her meetings to be delayed or interrupted. Apparently, this was one of them.

“The dowager countess is to wed Sir Clayton Timmons,” Clara blurted out with a clap of her hands.

Violet’s teacup clattered in the saucer, and a bit of tea sloshed over the side. “Oh, I’m so clumsy,” she said, grabbing a napkin and wiping the small spill while she blinked rapidly.

The others exclaimed in delight and wished Grace congratula
tions. Sara sat quietly and looked at her in sadness. Grace watched Prudence put her hand on her daughter’s arm and squeeze. Violet shot her mother a tremulous smile and surreptiti
ously swiped at her eye. Had Violet had an interest in Sir Timmons? It would make sense, since he was a wealthy eligible bachelor and Violet was on the marriage mart. If that were the case, then Grace felt even worse. Nigel, it seemed, was ruining everyone’s life.

Grace pulled her attention from Violet to accept the women’s good wishes and tried her best to deflect the most important questions of when the wedding would take place and when exactly she’d been spending time with Sir Timmons that he’d offered for her hand. Clara was more than happy to answer all the questions, launching into the story of how Timmons had approached the earl with his request for Grace’s hand and how thrilled the earl had been to give it to him. Clara did like throwing around her titles.

Violet and Prudence sat in silence, Prudence with a pained expression. Grace felt their tension and shock from across the room. She wished a hole would open up and she would fall through it. She wasn’t one for cursing but felt now would be an appropriate time to utter a few silent curses at Clara and Nigel and Sir Timmons. And yes, even Michael, for leaving her in this situation. It wasn’t the first time she’d been angry at him for abandoning her.

“It’s so soon,” Sara said quietly, effectively cutting through everyone’s joy.

The chatter abruptly stopped, as everyone stared at Clara, waiting for her response.

“Sir Timmons said he was fine with waiting out the dowager countess’s mourning period,” Clara said with a bite to her words, apparently miffed that Sara wanted to take away her moment. “Meanwhile, she can plan the wedding. Besides, Michael has been gone much longer than ten months and, well, we all know there is no threat to the earldom in the form of an heir.”

Sara turned wide, accusing eyes on Clara. Rarely did she allow anger to show. In fact, Grace wasn’t certain she’d ever seen Sara angry. “There is more to mourning than waiting to see if a child is born,” she said in that soft way. But this time it put Clara in her place, and everyone knew it.

Heads swiveled to Clara, waiting for her response. Grace was convinced everyone was holding their breaths for fear of missing one word of the discussion. She should have heeded Ida’s advice and stayed home. That would have taken the wind out of Clara’s sails.

Clara’s chest and neck turned pink, and she appeared chagrined before indignation took over. “Well, of course there is, but it wasn’t as if Michael’s death was a surprise. He was fighting in a war, after all.”

Sara shot Grace a look as if to say,
Can you believe the nerve of this woman?
While Grace silently implored Clara to be quiet. Didn’t she see she was making things worse? Not just for Grace. Clara’s insensitive comments were putting her in a bad light, and Violet and her mother were becoming visibly uncomfortable.

“Sir Timmons is greatly enamored of our Grace,” Clara rushed on, maybe sensing that she was losing the good graces of her audience. “And I’ve been assured that she is equally enamored. Isn’t that right, my lady?”

And what should she say? That, no, she wasn’t enamored of Sir Timmons? That would be cruel, because word would surely get back to him. And yet she couldn’t lie. She shot Violet a quick glance, but the poor girl was looking down at her hands.

“I’ve just recently learned of these events,” Grace said carefully. “I’ve yet to form an opinion one way or another.”

“Sir Timmons is handsome and a very nice man,” Violet said quietly. “Besides, living in that drafty old dower house has to be such a hardship after living so long in the manor house.”

Clara stiffened. She despised any reference to the time when Grace lived in Blackbourne Manor. She would much prefer to pretend that Grace had never been countess at all. Grace wasn’t certain what she had done to elicit such animosity in Clara. They’d never had much in common, but they’d always been civil to each other. Until Nigel had assumed the earldom. After that, Clara’s claws had come out.

Her mother squeezed Violet’s hand, and Grace had to commend the girl for overcoming her shock to be so gracious.

“The dower house is
not
drafty,” Clara said, all quivering indignation. “The earl is very aware that he has a responsibility to the dowager countess.”

Grace closed her eyes in mortification and anger. The
earl
might be aware of his responsibi
lity, but he in no way acted on it other than to get her off his hands at his earliest convenience.

“Yes, well.” Prudence clapped her hands together, and even if her smile was strained, she took control of the meeting. “It’s time we got started, or it will be close to dinner before we’re finished.”

The meeting didn’t last as long as dinnertime, and as it wound down, the ladies gathered their shawls and parasols. Clara, likely sensing that she would be the topic of conversation afterward, hung about later than usual but soon ran out of excuses and had to say her goodbyes.

Sara and Grace left the house together, and when they were standing at the street, Sara hugged Grace hard. It was all Grace could do to keep the tears that had been threatening from falling.

“I’m so sorry, Grace.” Sara pulled away and looked into Grace’s eyes. “I had no idea.”

“That makes two of us.” Grace tried to laugh but failed.

“What will you do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, you can’t marry him.”

“Can’t I?”

Sara reared back and stared at Grace in shock. “Tell me you aren’t seriously considering his proposal.”

“There was no proposal. There was an agreement between Nigel and Timmons. My wishes or thoughts were not considered. According to Nigel, the deal is finished, and all that is left is the ceremony.”

“You have a choice. Talk to Sir Timmons and tell him you don’t have feelings for him.”

Grace began walking in the direction of town. Sara walked beside her and the burly footman followed as discreetly as an enormous man could.

“Tell him you’re still mourning Michael,” Sara said.

Grace could do that, and she had every right to do that, but something stopped her. Something Nigel said had been nagging at her. He’d been convinced that Grace wouldn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, while up until that moment she had wanted to do just that. Or she’d thought she had, only because she’d never considered a second marriage. But after returning to the dower house, after visiting the manor, something had shifted inside of her.

The dower house was old and rotting and hadn’t had a dowager living in it for a few decades. Michael’s older brother had not married before his death, and their mother had died while giving birth to Nigel. For the past ten months, Grace had not minded living there. It had been the only place that held no memories of Michael, and that had been a blessing for a time. But after her short visit to the manor house, she realized she missed living in a home where the fireplaces worked and the damp didn’t seep into her bones.

How horrible was it that she was considering marrying Sir Timmons for warmth and a solid roof over her head.

“Grace, are you seriously considering this marriage?”

Grace’s hands shook so hard that she hid them in the folds of her gown. “No. Yes. I don’t know, Sara. It never occurred to me that Sir Timmons would offer for my hand, but now he has me thinking of my future.” It was more than the house. It was the loneliness that weighed her down. She wanted someone to talk to in the evening. Someone to sit with by a fire.

Oh, bother. She should just get a dog. Dogs were good listeners, and they loved sleeping by fires.

“Nigel wants to be rid of me,” she said.

“Why? You keep to yourself. You live in a house he wouldn’t ever step foot in. You don’t ask him for anything.”

All very true, but…She wouldn’t be so crass as to mention money, but there was that. Nigel hated giving her the one third owed to her from the estate’s profit—the one third he’d yet to pay her. By marrying her off, he wouldn’t have to.

“Well, you can’t marry Sir Timmons,” Sara said matter-of-factly. “You’re still in your widow’s weeds, and you’re still mourning your husband.”

Therein lay the problem. The one thing that trumped any argument Grace had to remarrying. She was still in love with Michael and would be forever.

Grace stopped suddenly, causing Sara to walk a few paces without her before realizing that her friend wasn’t beside her.

Sir Timmons was striding toward them. Grace’s heart thundered, but not in the way it had thundered when Michael walked toward her. This had more to do with apprehension and a permeating feeling of doom.

“Oh, dear,” Sara murmured. She touched Grace’s arm. “I can stay.”

“No. This conversation has to happen at some point. But thank you for your loyalty.”

“Are you certain?” Sara’s eyes were full of concern.

Grace wasn’t at all certain. “Yes.”

“I will call on you tomorrow, and we will discuss this in greater detail without half of Hadley Springs watching.”

It was only then that Grace noticed that they were on the main street and people were pretending not to watch; there was movement at the windows of the milliner’s shop and the local pub.

“My lady.” Sir Clayton stopped in front of them and bowed. He smiled at Grace, then nodded to Sara. “Lady Sara.”

“Sir Timmons.” Sara appeared to shrink inside of herself. She was so painfully shy around others. She turned to Grace. “I will leave you two. Good day, Grace. Sir Timmons.”

Sara and her guard hurried away, leaving Grace and Sir Timmons alone among the townspeople who were watching but pretending not to watch.

“How was your meeting?” Timmons asked.

“My meeting with the festival committee or my meeting with Nigel?”

He seemed taken aback by her abruptness and her direct question. She knew she shouldn’t take her pique out on Timmons, but at the moment he was the object of her ire.

He was an attractive man. Tall, wide shoulders, crisp blue eyes, and brown hair flecked with red. He dressed well, if conservati
vely. He was mild-mannered, polite, and nice to be around. Rumor had it he had a sharp mind, and it was his business acumen and massive wealth that had earned him the title of baron.