Page 27 of Forever & Again
A line of poetry about sparrows had carried her back to the afternoon they spent birdwatching. A game of chess with Matthew had turned into a memory of sitting for hours in the garden with Oliver, sunlight falling across the board. Even Sarah’s mention of their childhood summers spent fishing in the pond at Edenfield had not conjured Benjamin’s face, but Oliver’s.
A slow realization started to form in Grace’s mind. “Sarah,” Grace blurted out, cutting her off mid-sentence—though she had no idea what her friend had even been speaking about. “How well did Benjamin know Oliver?”
Sarah blinked, seeming a little startled. “Well enough, I believe. The Duke once told me he had been good friends with Benjamin their last few years at Eton, and wherever he was, Oliver was usually not far behind.”
Grace nodded slowly. It was possible that Oliver knew Benjamin well enough to learn his his favorite pastimes—even the ones he and Grace had shared together. Or it was all just an incredible coincidence.
“I never really thought of it before,” Sarah said, drawing Grace from her thoughts. “But they are quite similar.”
“Who?” Grace demanded. “Benjamin and Oliver?”
“You do not agree?”
“I do not understand how you even came to that assessment, they are nothing alike!” Grace’s voice was sharper than she intended, but the idea unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
“Really?” Sarah tilted her head, her tone needling causing Grace to clench her fists in her lap.
Of course they weren’t alike. Benjamin had been steady and dependable, with a kindness that soothed her. Oliver was infuriating, unpredictable, and far too quick with his wit. Yet, she could not seem to shake the feeling that he saw her more clearly than anyone had in a very long time, and the memory of his smile and laugh stirred something in her chest that she did not wish to give a name.
Grace felt the frustration rise hot in her chest. She scrambled for anything—anything—she could use a rebuttal. “Oliver’s hair is nearly a shade lighter, and his eyes are two shades darker,” she blurted, hearing the weakness in her argument even as it left her lips.
“Oh, you are right.” Sarah gave a solemn nod, a definite contrast to her eyes that sparkled with mischief. “How could I have made such an error? They are completely different.” Her exaggerated sincerity was punctuated with an eye-roll so grand her eyes nearly disappeared inside of her head.
“Sarah…” Grace’s warning was weak, almost pleading.
“I am curious though,” Sarah pressed, her smile sharpening. “How you have become so keenly aware of the exact shade of Oliver Blackburn’s eyes.”
“It was entirely unintentional, I assure you.” Grace forced the words out quickly, as if speed might disguise the heat creeping into her cheeks.
“I do not know you have managed to notice anything about him, seeing as how you refuse to speak to him.”
“Considering I spent the entire day with him yesterday, I would say I speak to him more than plenty.” Grace shot back before she could stop herself.
“Yesterday?”
Grace’s heart plummeted to her stomach as she realized her mistake.
“What of tea with Mrs. Wellick? Matthew said you were out all afternoon.” Sarah’s voice was quieter now, but it carried a sharp edge.
Grace felt the air rush from her lungs, suddenly unable to take a breath, let alone make an excuse. She could do nothing but stare, tongue-tied, her silence more telling than words.
“You were with Oliver?”
“Sarah, I can explain…”
“Explain what?” The mischief was gone from Sarah’s face, replaced by wounded disbelief. “Why you lied to me, or why you have been avoiding me since you arrived at Somerton?”
“That is not fair.” Grace’s voice shook, though whether from anger or shame, she wasn’t entirely sure.
“No, it is not fair!” Sarah’s composure cracked, her words sharp with wounded indignation. “I knew something was wrong. Matthew told me to give you space, and I have tried.”
Grace’s breath caught in disbelief. “Forcing me into endless social obligations and cornering me every time I descend the staircase is not space, Lizzy! It is smothering!”
Sarah flinched as though the words had been a slap. Grace knew she ought to feel sorry, but she could not summon the feeling. Months of burying her grief, rage, and her every unseemly emotion had left her too weary to care.
When was everyone going to realize that she was not the same woman she had been before Benjamin died, and that she very likely never would be again?
“So you prefer Oliver’s company to mine?” Sarah asked quietly, pain lacing her voice.
