Page 22 of Forever & Again
“What are you doing?” Oliver huffed in exasperation.
“I would think that it is obvious,” Grace said, refusing to turn back and look him in the eyes. She was still unsure how he was able to read her so well, but if she had any chance of retaining even the faintest sliver of her pride, he could not see her cry. “I am fishing.”
“Grace…” Oliver took a step even closer.
“You asked me what I wanted, Oliver, and this is it.”
She could feel his gaze steady on the side of her face.“Youwantto fish?” He asked.
“Yes.” Grace let the word go with a shaky breath.
Ever since Benjamin had died, everyone treated her like a fragile thing that could shatter at any moment. She had thought that if she continued to take care of everyone else, like she always had, they would start to see her for who she once was—maybe she would start to feel normal again as well. But she didn’t.
Being at Somerton hurt. Seeing Sarah and Matthew hurt, and despite how much she loved them, she could not bear the thought of spending one more moment feeling as though she were the subject of their pity.
As aggravating as Oliver was, she could not help but admit that he was the only person she had in her life who dared speak to her truthfully, without reservation, and saw her as more thanwhat she had lost. When she was with him, she felt the freedom to be who she was now, and not who others expected her to be.But how was she supposed to tell him that?
She turned her head to face him slowly. He stood beside her, his posture relaxed, but she could see the tension in his jaw.
“I want to fish.” She said softly.
His eyes softened. “Then let’s fish,” he said as he dropped his line in the water with a smile.
They stood there in the still quiet of the woods, neither one of them saying a word, but Grace could hear the truth echoing all around them.
She wouldn’t have to say anything at all.Somehow, he already knew.
Chapter Eleven
Grace stood near the edge of the ballroom, her hands lightly clasped and her heart beating slightly too fast beneath the soft lilac silk of her ballgown. The last ball she had attended, she had been on Benjamin's arm, and the memory pressed against her ribs like a bruise she thought had healed.
She had nearly feigned a headache to enjoy the evening in an empty house and quiet library, while the rest of them dazzled and danced to their hearts’ content. But the summer ball at Haverhleigh House was the most sought-after invitation in the county—at least according to Sarah, who had chosen their gowns and determined their hairstyles the moment the envelope had arrived at Sommerton. Grace hadn’t had the heart to deny her.
She scanned the room, her gaze falling on Matthew and Sarah as they slowly made their way around the room. They were not titled, yet the warmth they carried between them always seemed to draw every conversation into their orbit. It was difficult to reconcile the radiant, graceful woman before her with the young girl who had adamantly refused her place in society for years, though Grace knew that beneath the layers of silkand petticoats, Sarah wanted nothing more than to run barefoot through the grass.
Grace smiled as Sarah’s hand absentmindedly rested on her belly. She was not yet far enough along that her form could not be hidden beneath the folds of her dress, but her presence most definitely would have been frowned upon in London society—but for Sarah, that most likely only served as motivation. Perhaps not much had changed after all.
“This is why I keep her in the country,”Matthew had declared when Sarah had announced she would be accepting every invitation that came their way that summer.
“I simply want to see what I can get away with before I grow so large that Matty is forced to keep me locked indoors.”Sarah laughed, swatting his arm playfully. The love between them was so evident that, at times, it almost hurt to witness it.
Grace tore her eyes from Sarah and Matthew, her gaze drawn almost instinctively to the figure standing at the far side of the room. Oliver leaned with easy confidence against the wall, laughing softly at something Lady Haverleigh had said—though, from Grace’s experience with the Countess, she could not imagine her saying anything deserving of such amusement.
There was something different about Oliver tonight, and Grace found herself completely incapable of tearing her eyes away from him. The emerald silk of his waistcoat made a stark contrast to his light hair, and the soft candlelight bathed him in a golden hue. When he tipped his head and laughed, his dark, stormy blue eyes caught the light in a way that reflected specs of silver, like the sun casting its light over the surface of a restless sea.
Garce’s heart launched into her throat as those mesmerizing eyes locked with hers. She turned sharply, the heat rushing to her face, hoping he hadn’t realized she was staring.
Grace took a deep breath to steady her racing heart.You were not staring,she said to herself, though the argument was unconvincing. If she wasn’t staring, then what exactly had she been doing?
Observing?
No. That didn’t sound much better.
Obviously, the heat of the summer was starting to go to her head, because this was Oliver Blackburn— ridiculous, incorrigible, infuriating, Oliver Blackburn. He was certainly nothing worth staring at.
Despite her internal objections, Grace couldn’t help but look back in his direction. But instead of finding Oliver’s attention on Lady Haverleigh, his eyes were still fixed firmly on her. His mouth curved in a smile as he pushed himself off of the wall, his steps purposefully pointed in her direction.
Grace fought the urge to run as he reached her, standing close enough that she couldn’t see anything else but him. How had she never noticed before how unjustly tall he was? Or how every movement he made highlighted the way his jacket pulled ever so slightly around his broad shoulders.
