Page 16 of The Marquess's Imperfect Brid
But when Lady Grace spoke, it was with humility and passion. Gareth believed that she was being too modest, especially when she mentioned the packages and gifts she and her friend prepared for the destitute people of the village. And when she talked about the music lessons she gave at the orphanage, her face lit up in a way that spoke directly to Gareth’s heart. She was such a kind and genuine young lady, and her compassion for the orphanage was so sincere that it was contagious.
“I would love to know more about the packages and baskets you prepare for the less fortunate families,” he said. In that moment, he would have done anything to hear her speak more. The entire evening was quickly becoming worth the unpleasantness and discomfort, now that he was talking with Lady Grace. And he would have done anything to see it not end.
Lady Grace blushed again, looking at him as she had several times before, as though she could hardly believe what was happening. It was not hard for Gareth to guess why, as he was certain that very few people were even civil to her. That much was evident in the way people kept glancing their way with disgust on their faces and whispering to one another. Gareth could not fathom someone treating such a wonderful, beautiful woman in such a way. And he was determined to show her that she deserved the same kindness and compassion that she clearly possessed.
“We make scarves, blankets and warm clothing,” she said with a humble tone that made him melt. “We also bake fresh bread and cakes, purchase dried meat and fruit and anything else that will keep in their kitchens for a few weeks. We also add toys and candy for children, so that they can receive presents during Christmastide, just like the rich children do.”
Gareth nodded, his breath completely stolen. He knew that society expected him to marry a woman like Lady Cecilia. And the more Lady Grace spoke, the more ludicrous that notion was to him. Lady Cecilia was nothing more than a pretty face with a disingenuous soul. But as he continued dancing with Lady Grace and listening to her speak with such love for her charity work, he could not help imagining marrying someone like her, with whom happiness and love would be possible and who would make the most elegant, understanding and patient duchess in all of England.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Grace went out into the gardens early. She had not been able to stop thinking about the ball the previous night since she and her family had returned home. She sat on the cool marble bench of the blue gazebo her father had built for her after her accident. It perched her directly in front of the two parterres of bluebells which her mother had planted for her on her thirteenth birthday.
She could no longer see them as she once could. But she had spent so much time reading and thinking while sitting amongst the beds of her favorite flowers that she could almost describe each bloom and their respective placements from memory. And right then, their calming comfort and the tranquility of her little spot in the garden was invaluable to her. The previous evening had been the most eventful, most bewildering night of her entire life.
She began to stroke Lady Whiskers, who jumped up delicately in her lap, as she thought about her dance with Lord Hayewood. Being so close to him, her good eye had shown her that he was even more handsome than she had first realized. Had it not been for the shock of such a respectable, attractive gentleman willingly dancing with her, she might have been so nervous that she would lose her composure.
And yet somehow, despite her shy behavior, the marquess had been so kind and warm. For the brief time that she spent twirling in his arms, she felt seen for more than her scars. She smiled softly to herself as her feline companion buzzed with her musical purring beneath her hands. It had been a magical evening. Even though she knew all along that it could never last.
Her smile faded as she thought about the rest of theevening, the part she had not enjoyed. When her dance with the marquess had ended, she had been unable to help but notice all the whispers and stares as he escorted her off the floor. If he had noticed, he had not given any indication of it. But Grace heard every single word about how gracious Lord Hayewood was to be dancing with such a beastly woman and how tragic it was that she would never earn more than pity dances from ton gentlemen. People always said that she would never make a suitable wife for any man, and the previous night had been no exception. And as always, she agreed with the insecurity spurring words.
I shall never escape the burden of these imperfections, she thought sadly. Lady Whiskers, sensing the change in her mood, shifted in her lap so that she was urgently nudging Grace’s hand with her nose. Grace idly opened her palm, and the cat nestled her cheek into its flesh, laying her head in her mistress’s hand like she herself used to lie when she was a young kitten. The gesture warmed Grace’s spirits, but it did little to settle her distress. Her insecurities always lurked just beneath the surface of her mind. But that morning, they haunted her very directly.
Before her self-pity could devour her, Neil appeared from around the corner of the hedges to her right, smiling warmly at his sister.
“Good morning, dear Grace,” he said, bowing with such exaggeration that Grace could not help laughing. “I set out to escort you to breakfast, but Juliet told me that you had come out here.”
Grace nodded, glancing around at the steadily brightening sky.
“I felt that it was too lovely of a morning not to spend a portion of it out here,” she said.
Neil nodded, his smile widening.
“Would your elevated mood and interest in early morningbeauty have anything to do with last evening?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he sat down beside her. “It seemed as though you were having a rather lovely time.”
Grace nodded, but her gaze drifted from her brother to a particularly beautiful, delicate white rose. Her brother’s tone was as gentle and encouraging as ever, of course, leaving her acutely conscious of the continuous love and support she had from her entire family. And her brother’s very presence brought her a sense of solace that nothing else could. But she only felt marginally lighter, especially with the words of Lady Cecilia still ringing in her ears.
“I did,” she admitted. “However, I cannot help feeling like I do not belong. Even during events when I have you, our family and Millicent, I still feel out of place, as if I am an imposter.”
Neil’s smile immediately turned into a frown.
“Is it something that we are doing to make you feel that way, Sister?” he asked.
Grace blushed, shaking her head urgently and taking her brother’s hands.
“Not at all, Neil,” she said, emphasizing the reassurance in her tone. “You all make me feel safe and loved and wanted, no matter where we are or what we are doing.” She sighed, shaking her head. “However, other guests at the parties we attend constantly judge me for my flaws. I see and hear the way people study and talk about me. I cannot pretend that I look like they do. I know that I am different, and that it is not a good thing.” She knew she had said the same thing many times before, especially in the months following her accident.
She felt a momentary pang of guilt, feeling certain that even her loving, protective brother had grown weary of hearing the same words come from her. But his expression softened once more, and he gave her a brilliant, reassuring smile.
“My darling sister,” he said, putting a comforting hand onher shoulder as he spoke with conviction. “You are so much more than your scars. Which are not your fault, may I remind you. And anyone who cannot see past them is not worth your time. If they choose not to see and learn the wonderful, kind, loving, intelligent, charitable, beautiful woman you are beyond a few scars, it is their loss, not yours.”
Grace moved over and rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. She absorbed the words he had just spoken to her, using them to help prepare herself for the days ahead. As with the kindness that the rest of her family and friends offered when she felt insecure, she could not see what her brother saw. But she knew that he meant what he said, and that he truly saw past her scars. Even if he were wrong about everything else, that knowledge would be enough to see her through, at least for the day.
“You put up with too much of my complaining,” she said softly. “And you do it without ever getting impatient with me. I want to offer my most heartfelt thanks to you for that. You have made me feel much better, Brother. And I shall be forever grateful.”
Neil kissed her on top of her head, then smiled down at her.
“It is truly no trouble at all,” he said. “You do more for everyone than I think you realise. It is the least any of us can do to lift your spirits, especially when you are feeling anxious like this. We understand, sweet sister. And I, for one, do not mind one bit if I say something that puts a smile on your beautiful face.”
