Page 51 of Only By Grace
Ronan tried to keep the surprise from his face. He had a great many objections, but he kept them to himself. “I am certain you are all anxious to be home, though please do not feel the need to hurry away on our account. I am sure Maeve would enjoy the company. In fact, I have just seen her making friends with Miss Joy and the kittens in the stable yard.”
“About your sister…Grace has just been in here and suggested we take Lady Maeve to London with us. She thought it might be a nice diversion for her—where she can heal, away from reminders of what happened here. While the Season has not yet begun, she may make a few acquaintances. Then, if she wishes to remain, she may be brought out under the patronage of a duchess and a viscountess. Joy will also be making her début.”
His initial instinct was to shout, ‘No!’ He didn’t want everything to be happening so quickly. He needed time to make sense of all that was happening. Ronan knew the plan was a brilliant one, yet he wanted to keep Maeve here to protect her and wrap her in cotton wool, but that was a ridiculous notion as he had failed to do that already. She would heal much faster away from all the reminders of her spectacular misadventure. “I have no objection if my parents are agreeable. I think they will be relieved, as my mother has been afraid to leave my father in order to take her to London.”
“Joy will be delighted to have someone to share the experience with her. She is rather dreading Society,” Patience added with a wry twist of her lips.
“I will speak with my parents about the matter. By the by, my father requests you join him at dinner this evening to show his appreciation for your help last evening.”
“We should be honoured to meet him,” Major Stuart said, “if it is not too much for his health.”
“It will give him great pleasure as well as be good for him, I suspect.”
The Stuarts nodded.
“Please make yourselves at home here, even though the stay will be short. There are fine paths for riding and some excellent cattle to choose from should you wish to see more of Ireland.”
He took his leave and went to tell his mother about Maeve’s invitation, even though he’d rather retreat and nurse hiswounds. Ronan already felt the loss of Grace as keenly as though he himself had laid her on the altar of sacrifice.
The great hall of Donnellan Castle had not seen such activity in years. The long table, polished to a dull gleam and adorned with flickering candelabra, groaned under the weight of a veritable feast: roasted meats, fragrant pies, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an array of sauces and delicacies. Fires roared in the hearths, casting a warm glow over the ancient tapestries and high ceiling. It was an evening meant for celebration, though the mood was yet sombre, the events of the past days lingering in the air.
The party had gathered there, and Ronan found it difficult to keep his eyes from Grace. She’d borrowed a gown from Maeve and he wondered how he’d not noticed her radiance before.
Ronan watched as his father made his entrance with innate authority, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone floor. Though his frame was gaunt and his steps cautious, he was still every inch the lord of the manor. His lady walked beside him, gently guiding and steadying. Ronan had helped his father downstairs some time before dinner was to begin so he would be spared the indignity of being witnessed in needing help.
All those present came forward as his father approached the head of the table, and he gestured for them to be seated. “Let us not stand on ceremony tonight,” he said, his deep voice carrying a note of wry amusement. “I am too old, and you are too young.”
As they took their places, Grace was seated between Lord Donnellan and Lady Maeve, a position that seemed to disconcert her. Ronan knew she disliked being the centre of attention.
He watched as his father’s sharp gaze swept over the table, pausing on Grace with unmistakable interest. “So, you are the young lady to whom we owe our gratitude,” he said, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
Grace inclined her head, and she inhaled deeply before answering. “I did very little, my lord.”
“Little?” he repeated, his brow lifting. “My dear, you saved my daughter and very likely my son as well. If this is what you call little, I should love to know what is much to you.”
“Father,” Ronan interjected, his tone dry, “perhaps you might allow Miss Whitford to enjoy her meal before overwhelming her?”
Lord Donnellan’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Nonsense. A young lady brave enough to steal my daughter out from under Flynn’s roof can surely endure a few words from an old man.”
“Nevertheless,” Grace said with quiet humour, “I find your praise far more daunting than Flynn’s threats, my lord.”
A ripple of laughter passed around the table, and Ronan saw Grace’s shoulders ease slightly. Maeve leaned towards her, whispering not so quietly in a confiding manner. “He likes you. Not many people achieve that on their first meeting.”
Grace smiled, though Ronan could tell she’d rather observe than speak.
“And how are you finding Donnellan Castle, Miss Whitford?” Lady Donnellan asked kindly.
“It is beautiful,” Grace replied earnestly. “The history here feels alive. I can almost imagine medieval knights and their ladies filling these halls.”
“Knights and ladies,” Maeve said with a smile. “While the reality is drafts and bats.”
Everyone at the table laughed, and even Maeve’s subdued chuckle joined the chorus.
“Before we begin, I should like to make a toast.” Lord Donnellan lifted his glass and everyone else followed. “Whilst we do not celebrate our enemy’s death, we are very grateful that thefeud has been brought to an end, and to have Maeve back where she belongs.”
Ronan was grateful to see the light back in his father’s eyes.
“We give thanks, too, for the bravery of this lovely young lady…” He lifted his glass to Grace. “and for the quick actions of Major Stuart.”
