Page 18 of Forever & Again
Oliver Blackburn was a mystery she had not yet decided she wanted to solve, but if Matthew and Sarah truly wanted him here, she would not be the reason he left.
Grace finally spotted him seated at a table near the back of the room. Things were far less formal here than they were in London, and he sat with his jacket draped over the back of his chair and sleeves rolled once at the cuff. The cards in his hand were fanned out with practiced ease, and a small, feminine crowd had gathered behind him, no doubt feigning interest in the game just so they could watch the men who were playing it.
She took a deep breath before politely interrupting Lady Hale’s monologue. “Forgive me, my lady,” she said, laying a soft hand on the woman’s animated arm. “I have been waiting for a moment to join in on a game of whist, and I do believe now is the perfect time.”
She didn’t even wait for a response before she made her way across the room, just as the men had begun dealing out a new hand of cards. “May I join?” she asked lightly, immediately regretting the amount of brightness she had forced into her voice.
Oliver did not even glance her way, but the older gentleman seated beside him stood and offered her his chair with a sincere smile. “My seat is yours, Lady Rockwell.” Mr. Langley turned back to those still seated at the table with a wink, “Heaven help you all.”
Laughter rose from the group, all except for Oliver, as Grace took her place beside him. She had gained a reputation for competition over the years, playing more than her share of rounds with Benjamin at small gatherings such as this. She introduced herself to her partner before studying her cards.
The first few plays were laid in silence. Oliver performed with his usual calm confidence, but the air between them was fragile. Every time she shifted in her chair, she could feel the tension between them stretching thinner until she was sure it was about to snap.
On the third hand, she discarded a card with much more flair than necessary, flashing a satisfied grin when it won her the hand.
“Lady Rockwell,” the man across from Oliver said with a mockingly scandalized tone, “If you are going to cheat, at least be discreet about it.”
Grace pressed a hand to her heart in theatrical offense. “Sir, I would never.”
He narrowed his eyes at her with a smirk. “Then allow me to say, if you are simply going to play like a villain, I may bow out before I am scandalized by losing to a lady.”
“No, please don’t!” she said, laughing. “Perhaps we can work together.” She cleared her throat, her eyes dropping to her cards as she raised her voice just enough to ensure Oliver couldn’t ignore it. “Even those not on the same team might find that being friends is more beneficial than being enemies.”
She stole a glance to her right, her heart missing a beat when she found Oliver already looking at her.
“Are you proposing an alliance?” the other gentleman asked. Grace knew she should turn back to the men speaking to her, but she could not seem to pull her focus from Oliver, even though his attention had already returned to his hand. “Not an alliance,” she said softly. “More of atruce.”
Oliver’s card paused midair. She smiled, knowing she had his full attention now. “I promise to play fair,” she added, her voice just above a whisper, “and I will only be mildly aggravating, so long asno onebows out of the game before the end.”
Oliver turned his head to look at her fully now. Their eyes locked and held just long enough for Grace to sense the other men at the table shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Oliver dipped his head back down to his cards, trying to hide the smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
He cleared his throat. “I supposeIcould agree to the terms of that truce,” he said, trying to force a casual tone, but Grace could hear the smile in his voice. “As long as you don’t mind a little competition. I can play fair, but I do intend to win.”
Grace laughed, suddenly feeling lighter, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The man across from them shook his head as he examined the cards in his hand. “Why do I feel as though you are speaking in riddles?”
“Riddles?” Oliver shook his head, and Grace thought she saw him throw her a quick wink. “No riddles, Mr. Brandley. Lady Rockwell has made herself perfectly clear.”
Another hand was dealt, and the conversation resumed around them, but Grace’s attention was no longer on the game. Every time she looked up, she found Oliver already watching her. And every time he smiled, something wrapped around her chest and pulled just a little bit tighter.
Oliver prided himself on understanding the inner workings of a woman’s mind; he had engaged enough of them over the past few years even to consider himself an expert. It was a thin line between charming flirt and heartbreaking rogue, and it was his ability to read the intentions and feelings of young ladies that allowed him to escape harmless situations before they ventured too close to emotional entanglements.
At this very moment, however, he was completely and utterly clueless as to what Grace Rockwell was thinking. Her little performance while playing whist had caught the attention of a few people, though no one but him knew the full meaning behind her words.
She had obviously known he was contemplating leaving Somerton, and in her own way, she had told him that he should stay—but her reason for doing so—that was what Oliver could not figure out.
He took in a breath of the cool night air as he stepped out on the terrace, making his way to where Grace stood, leaning against the stone balustrade. Her back was to him, so he was able to take a moment to observe her when she thought no one was watching.
She took in a deep breath, her shoulders sitting just a little lower than they had been a few moments before. She was breathtakingly beautiful, there was no denying that, but it waseverything hiding underneath, along with the strength, grace, and poise that she carried it with, that made her captivating.
“I thought I might find you out here,” Oliver said softly.
Grace turned with a smile, as though she had been expecting him to come. “Are you here to gloat about your victory?”
Oliver stepped beside her, resting his hands on the cool stone next to hers. “No, though I will say you were a worthy opponent.”
Grace shrugged, “I was motivated.” She slowly turned to face him, “Oliver, I want to apologize. When I found out about Champion…”
