Page 41 of The Marquess's Imperfect Brid
“I love him,” she said, voicing the feelings aloud for the first time.
Juliet nodded, pausing only to meet her gaze for a moment before returning to her task.
“Of course, you do,” she said. “And he loves you.”
Grace shook her head, frowning.
“But what if he does not?” she asked, sounding as plaintive as she had felt with her thoughts at the poetry reading. “What if he could never love someone like me?”
Juliet gave her a patient, compassionate look.
“He does,” she said simply. “It could not be more obvious to anyone.”
Grace shook her head again, trying to make sense of everything in her mind.
“But Lady Cecilia seems very interested in him,” she said.
Juliet smiled slowly as she continued working.
“Is he interested in her, though?” she asked.
Grace sighed.
“I cannot be sure,” she said. “But I do not see how he would not be.”
Juliet shrugged.
“Perhaps, he does not see in her what he sees in you,” she said.
Grace fell silent again. She was aware that the marquess saw something in her that made him happy to spend time with her. She even felt the strength of the connection between them, especially when they had worked together during the treasure hunt. And when their hands had touched at the fair, the tingle was so intense that it lingered within her for hours. She could not help worrying that he could never truly love her, however, not in the way a man loved his wife. She did not fit into what society believed to be perfect. How could he possibly have an imperfect wife?
Chapter Twenty-three
“Lady Grace, surely you have not missed it this evening,” Juliet whispered as she accompanied Grace to the retiring room to freshen up.
Grace’s cheeks flushed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. She could not pretend to be clueless as to what her lady’s maid meant, not anymore. Juliet was referring to Lord Hayewood and the way he had been treating her. If she had not known any better, she would have believed that they were courting, and that there was no other woman in the world as far as he was concerned apart from her.
“No,” she said, shaking her head as her smile widened. “I have not missed anything tonight.”
Juliet squealed softly as she smoothed out Grace’s skirts and gave her another spray of lavender perfume.
“The marquess is clearly madly in love with you, just as I told you,” she said.
Grace nodded, biting her lip. The wave of affection for the marquess that had washed over her upon seeing him when the ball began had been more overwhelming than anything she had felt in as long as she could remember. She was unsure whether she could bring herself to speak first about the feelings which ran strong and clear between them. But she hoped with every bit of her heart and soul that Lord Hayewood would pull her aside and confirm what she was sure she already knew; that he was as in love with her as she was with him.
Before she could voice her hopes to her lady’s maid, however, another person entered the room. Grace’s heart rose as she turned to face the doorway, hoping to see the marquess approaching her. But her heart fell into her stomach as sherealized who it was.
“Your Grace,” she said stiffly, curtseying and trying to still her racing heart.
The duchess scowled at her as she surveyed Grace. She turned up her nose, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
“Lady Grace, I know what you are doing,” she said with an icy, disapproving glare. “And I am here to tell you to cease at once.”
Grace swallowed, grateful for Juliet’s touch as she inconspicuously put her hand on her mistress’s back, before leaving them alone.
“I am not sure what…” she began, but the duchess cut her off.
“Your feelings for my Gareth are apparent enough that the entire village is gossiping,” she said. “And you should know that he could never return those affections. A woman with your… imperfections does not belong in his world.”
