Page 58 of Only By Grace
CHAPTER 20
The cold autumn air enveloped Grace as she stepped onto the terrace, the sounds of the ball muffled by the heavy curtains she had slipped past. The stone balustrade was cold beneath her fingers, a blessed reprieve from the heat and press of the crowded ballroom. She exhaled slowly, her breath curling into the chilly air.
When Grace had first spotted Carew across the glittering expanse of the ballroom, everything had faded into the background as her gaze locked on his tall, commanding figure. Thank goodness she had not been dancing or she would have faltered. He’d stood near the entrance, his dark coat impeccably tailored, while his blue eyes scanned the room with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the shimmering haze of candlelight and silk.
Her first reaction was disbelief—it had to be a mirage. Yet there he was, looking every inch the enigmatic lord she had tried so hard to forget. His presence was undeniable, a magnetism that seemed to draw her attention no matter how fiercely she willed herself to look away.
Conflicting emotions flooded her chest, each one vying for dominance. There was joy at the sight of him—whole, hale,and here—but it was swiftly tempered by the ache of hurt, the memory of his dismissal, his insistence that she find someone ‘worthy’. Anger simmered beneath the surface, though it was directed as much at herself as at him. Would his presence always have the power to unmoor her?
It had felt like Moses parting the Red Sea as he’d walked towards her and solicited her hand.
Unfortunately, she had been unprepared and had reacted poorly. What had she done? It was everything she had hoped for this past month, yet she had fled the ballroom as soon as the waltz ended. She was too disturbed by the maelstrom of emotions that had surfaced during their conversation. He’d spoken every word she’d longed to hear, so why did she mistrust them?
Despite Grace’s wish to flee, she could not spoil the evening for Maeve and Joy. They deserved to laugh and dance without her melancholy casting a shadow over their happiness, so she hid amongst the dowagers and chaperones until the evening ended.
As they returned home in the carriage, Maeve and Joy filled the silence with chatter, while the Dowager and Grace listened. Maeve’s eyes sparkled as she recounted her dances, her laughter light and carefree.
“Did you see me trip during the quadrille?” Joy exclaimed, giggling. “I nearly took Lady Abernathy down with me!”
Maeve joined in the laughter, her cheeks glowing. “And yet you recovered so earnestly, poor dear. I could not help but admire your determination.”
Joy then launched into a particularly dramatic retelling of an incident during the reel. “Did you see,” she exclaimed, flinging her hands up for effect, “just as I was about to execute the perfect turn, Mr. Cunningham stepped on my hem! I nearly toppledover Lord Dunton. His hairpiece came loose and was flailing about like a squirrel hanging on to a tree in a wind storm.”
Maeve clapped her hands together, laughing so hard she could barely speak. “Joy, you are incorrigible!”
The Dowager made a noise indicating she despaired of the child.
Grace offered a faint smile but remained silent, her thoughts far from the merry conversation. Despite some time to calm herself, her thoughts remained fixed on Ronan. As they arrived home, Joy and Maeve were still chattering animatedly as they ascended the stairs, their voices trailing off into the upper floors. Grace, however, lingered in the hall, turning to bid the Dowager goodnight before making her way to her sitting room.
When she opened the door, she stopped short, her hand flying to her chest. “Faith! Hope!” she exclaimed. Her sisters were seated comfortably by the hearth, steaming cups of tea in hand, their faces lighting up as they saw her.
“Grace!” Hope set her tea-cup down and rose, only for Grace to wrap both of them in a fierce embrace. “We have missed you so!”
“And I have missed you!” Grace’s voice wavered as she held them tightly. “I am so glad you have come!”
Faith smiled, smoothing back Grace’s hair as she pulled away. “Patience thought you might need us. Westwood and Rotham grumbled, but they can manage for a night.”
Before Grace could respond, she turned to see Patience entering with a tray of biscuits, her usual sensible demeanour mixed with concern. “Why don’t we help you out of your ball gown first? And then we shall sit and talk.”
Hope fetched Grace’s dressing gown while Patience deftly unlaced her stays, swiftly and efficiently. Within minutes, Grace was settled into a comfortable chair by the fire, her feet curledbeneath her, as Faith brushed out her hair in soothing, rhythmic strokes as they’d done every night as children.
The comfort of her sisters’ presence was almost too much to bear. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing instead on the steaming cup of tea Faith pressed into her hands.
“Now,” Hope said, settling herself on the rug at Grace’s feet. “Tell us what has happened. We have heard bits and pieces about Ireland and Flynn, but I suspect that is not what has you so troubled tonight.”
“No,” Grace admitted softly, her fingers tightening around her tea-cup. “That is…to do with Lord Carew.”
The sisters exchanged glances, their curiosity evident. Faith leaned forward slightly. “What has he done?”
Grace sighed, gathering her thoughts. “I thought there was something between us. In Ireland, he was different—kind, attentive—but then, before we left, he dismissed me. He told me to find someone worthy of me, as though…as though it was nothing.”
Faith froze, her tea-cup halfway to her lips. “I sense there is more.”
Grace hesitated, her voice faltering when she began to speak. “He came to the ball tonight. He sought me out, confessed he had made a mistake, and asked if I could forgive him.”
The sisters gasped in unison, their eyes wide with astonishment.
Hope leaned closer. “What did you say?”
