Saving Grace (24 page)

“And have Father throw Helen to the nearest shark?” Grace asked. “No, thank you. You realize that I must stay here — for now,” she added softly at his forlorn expression.

Grace turned away so he could not guess her own conflicted emotions. There were times — like these when they met at the wall and talked — when she knew she wished for release from her betrothal and the chance to be courted in earnest by the one she found so pleasing to be with.

But there were other times with Lord Sutherland when she felt almost content with her lot and wished she need not find a way out of it. She wondered what would happen if she allowed herself to have feelings for him instead of always keeping her guard up and harboring secret plans of departure in the back of her mind.

Much had served to soften her heart toward him: Late nights spent facing each other across the chessboard. Discussions at dinner revolving around her daily reading. Their differing opinions on selections they had both read. And the small kindnesses he showed — be that offering her the last piece of bread, extending his arm to her as they went down the stairs, or even his displays of anger at past wrongs done to her.

But it was her heart she needed most to protect.

Lately she had started worrying over Lord Sutherland’s heart, as well. She feared that he needed her, though he did not yet realize it. Samuel had suggested as much at their first meeting. She had not wanted to hear it then; she did not want to think about it now.

Or about Samuel, either.
He would have been so easy to love.
And he would have taken care with my heart.
He was the first man she had ever known whom she might have trusted it with. But she hadn’t that luxury. As soon as possible, she needed to take Helen and Christopher away.

“Don’t leave,” Samuel said. “I’m sorry.” He swung his legs down on her side of the wall and leaned forward as if he meant to jump down.

Only then did Grace realize how far she had strayed from the wall. She moved closer to it — to him — shaking her finger. “You stay on your side, remember?”

“Bossy today, aren’t we?” But his usual smile was back in place, and he leaned to his side once more. “Let’s see, before my burst of selfish melancholy, we were searching out ways for you to avoid death by boredom or madness from such.”

“Yes,” Grace said, relieved that the Samuel she had come to know these past two weeks was returned. She did not think she could abide the other. Having one man in her life given to moodiness was plenty.

“Have you considered stitchery?” Samuel asked. “I hear it is all the rage, and the most prestigious ladies do it.”

Grace held out her hands. “Too many years of hard work in these for them to be suitable for delicate embroidery. Though I shouldn’t mind making a new dress.”

“There you have it,” Samuel said. “Just tell Nicholas you’d like to sew a dress, and see what he does. I’ll bet you’ll be busy in no time — at the dressmaker’s. It would not be befitting the status of any Sutherland woman to make her own clothing.”

Grace frowned. “I am not a Sutherland.”
Yet.
The panic that came over her whenever she dwelt on the possibility of actually marrying Lord Sutherland reared its head. She pushed it firmly to the back of her mind. Christopher and the solicitor would soon have everything resolved with the inheritance. In the meantime, Lord Sutherland had not mentioned another word about their betrothal, and while she could not hope that he had forgotten, until he brought it up again, she was doing her best to pretend it did not exist.

“I do not want him to purchase anything for me — not a dress, or even fabric to make one. He’s already spent enough to protect Helen.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Samuel said.

Grace rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine Lord Sutherland’s expression when he compliments me on my dress and I tell him, ‘This gown is courtesy of Mr. Preston.’ You’d hear his shouting all the way in your drawing room.”

“Does he still yell a lot?” Samuel asked, his eyes darkening with the concern Grace found so endearing.

“Not so much,” she said. “We are learning to tolerate each other and which topics to avoid.”

“And does he compliment you on your gowns?” Samuel persisted.

“Yes.” Grace smiled wistfully as she recalled Lord Sutherland’s lingering gaze the night before, when he had met her on the stairs to escort her to dinner. She hadn’t mistaken the approval in his eyes. And never once since that first awful afternoon in his study had he looked at her inappropriately or in any fashion resembling the way Sir Lidgate had. His compliments were sincere and plentiful. She felt beautiful in his presence, but never in a way that was degrading. Equally sincere and frequent were his compliments on her observations from the books she read and on her strategy when, on the rare occasion, she bested him at chess.

Though she did not see Lord Sutherland much during the day, their time together each evening had evolved into something pleasant.

Not unlike my afternoons in the garden with Samuel
, she realized with some discomfort.

“You are lost in thought,” Samuel said. “Apparently his compliments leave you much to contemplate.” He sounded wistful again, and a glance upward confirmed that he was having difficulty keeping his usual good nature about him.

“Tell me more about Elizabeth,” Grace said.

His wife had become a favorite topic for them — a
safe
topic. Personal, but not in such a way as to endanger their fast-formed friendship, propelling it toward something more. Grace could tell that it did Samuel good to speak of Elizabeth, and learning about her helped Grace understand both Samuel and Lord Sutherland. “What would she have done on a day like today?”

“Many things,” Samuel said. “Today is her birthday. You should be aware that Nicholas will likely be in a mood.”

When is he not?

“As are you,” Grace said, then regretted her words at once. “I
am
sorry. You’ve every right to be sad, especially today.” She wished Samuel had told her the reason for his melancholy sooner.

“But not every day,” Samuel said with a glance over his shoulder. “In many ways life has been good to me. I meant what I told you at the ball — my time here has been the happiest of my life, sorrows notwithstanding.”

“What has made it so happy?” Grace urged. “What did you and Elizabeth do for amusement?”

Samuel gave her a rather pointed look, followed by a smirk.

“Oh.” Grace turned away with a flounce of her skirts. “What did
she
do for amusement
before
she married you?”

He laughed. “I did not say a word, yet you assume the worst of me.”

She faced him once again, hands on her hips. “You did not need to say anything. I know the look of a scoundrel when I see one.”

“I am wounded,” Samuel cried, clutching his chest. “And guilty,” he admitted, hanging his head, but not before Grace caught sight of another roguish grin.

“And
I
am waiting for an answer.”

Samuel stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What did Elizabeth do? A bit of everything, I suppose. She and Nicholas rode all over these hills nearly every day — even after we married, she went with him. And she played the pianoforte with such passion that at times I expected it to come crashing through the floor.” Samuel grinned with the memory. “And, of course, there was her garden.” His hand stretched out, sweeping the air before him. “The ruin of which you see here. How I wish that Nicholas had kept it up. I have Elizabeth’s yellow roses, but they are nothing to the grandeur this place used to hold.”

Samuel’s gaze turned distant, or perhaps inward, and Grace recognized this as one of those times that silence between them was best. For all the three years that had passed since Elizabeth’s death, and for all that Samuel preached about living life to its fullest as his wife would have wanted, Grace could see that he still suffered.

At times like these, she wanted to reach out to him, to be the one to comfort, to fill the emptiness in his heart.

But I cannot
.

Into the silence came another sound, so gradual that at first Grace was not certain she had heard correctly. But it came again — a child’s voice, sweet and innocent and filled with infectious laughter.

“Do you hear that?” She dared to break their silent reverie, guessing it would be broken soon by the approaching voices. There were two now — the child’s and what sounded to be a distraught nanny calling the little one back.

“I must go,” Samuel said, swinging his legs to the opposite side of the fence.

“Why?” Grace asked. “Who is it?”

A peculiar expression flitted across his face, giving Grace the impression that he was engaged in an internal debate. The child’s voice grew closer so that Grace could make the words out.

“Daddy! I want to be up there too, Daddy.”

Grace gasped. “You have —”

A silent plea emerged from the depths of Samuel’s eyes, and sudden understanding dawned on Grace.

“He does not know,” she whispered. “Lord Sutherland does not know that he ... is an uncle.”

“Please, don’t tell him,” Samuel pled. “Not for my sake, but for Beth’s.”

“Of course,” Grace said, still reeling with his secret herself. “I give you my word. I will not tell Lord Sutherland of your daughter.”

Dearest Helen,

How I miss you. My days here are terribly lonely …

No doubt a rusted saw was not the best implement for pruning rosebushes and cutting back overgrown trees. But it was all Grace could find, so she set to work, determined to be done with her idleness and boredom and to become strong once more. And, most importantly, to do something good for both Lord Sutherland and Mr. Preston, both of whom she believed would benefit from the garden being cared for again.

Not that she knew much about caring for a garden.

The meager patch of ground beneath the wash line at their house in London had never yielded much, blocked from the sun by the clothing strung there as it had been most of the time. One summer or two, she’d tried to grow a few vegetables but had eventually given up, knowing that her time was better spent doing the washing and ironing that brought the needed money to purchase their food.

Beyond trimming the dead branches and tidying the paths, Grace could not think of what else Elizabeth’s garden would need. She hoped Nicholas’s library might provide an answer, and when she’d finished with the wild-growing rosebushes along the drive, she intended to search for a book on the care of flowers and shrubs.

With vigor, she set to cutting back the most brittle branches, those obviously long dead, those poking out at odd angles, the ones most liable to catch the clothes of one walking by. Working this way and that, climbing on top of a crate she’d discovered the saw in, and bending beneath the lowest branches, Grace pruned the first bush until she deemed it acceptable. She stepped onto the drive to admire her work just as a carriage turned onto it.

Grace moved out of the way, lest the carriage bear one of Lord Sutherland’s important and impatient visitors from the city. They were oft in a hurry to arrive and in even a greater hurry to leave again. Though many had to travel a great distance, none stayed long at Sutherland Hall.

She took up the broom she’d brought with her, also found in the shed behind the kitchen, and swept cuttings as the carriage passed. Grace was surprised to see the Sutherland crest on its polished side, but it took two more strokes of the broom before she realized the significance.

“Oh no.” Her sweeping ceased, and she turned to the front of the house, where Kingsley, Mrs. James, and Lord Sutherland were just gathering to greet their visitor.

Not a visitor at all. How could I have forgotten that Lord Sutherland’s mother was to arrive this week?
Illness had delayed the dowager from her original date of arrival — a reprieve Grace had been most grateful for. Becoming accustomed to Lord Sutherland had been difficult enough. The thought of facing his mother was even more daunting.

Grace did her best to shrink into the shadow of a nearby tree — difficult, as it had already shed the majority of its leaves for winter. The carriage stopped, but with its back facing her, she could not see who emerged.

And for the moment, at least, they cannot see me.

Grace hoped the carriage would remain in place long enough for Lord Sutherland and the others to go in. Perhaps then she could go inside to her room, unnoticed, so she might change to a more appropriate gown and make herself presentable.

She had planned to meet with Samuel, to learn more of his daughter, but her curiosity would have to wait. No doubt she would be expected to sit at tea and make polite conversation throughout the afternoon.

“What a bother.” Grace crouched behind the tree to wait. She hugged her arms as the chill of the day crept over her. She hadn’t noticed it while working, but no doubt Lord Sutherland would flay her if he caught her outside without a cloak.

Minutes dragged by, until at last the landau moved off in the direction of the carriage house. The front steps were empty, the party having gone inside.