Page 9 of Forever & Again
Grace tossed another pebble into the pond, watching the tiny ripples stretch across the water, disturbing its glassy surface. The summer air was still, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to be at peace.
“Lady Rockwell.”
Even the way he said her name was annoying.
“Lord Blackburn,” Grace sighed, her eyes still fixed on the water. “I thought we agreed to never speak to each other again.”
Oliver laughed as he took a careful step closer, his gaze flicking down to the ground between them. If Grace hadn’t known better, she would have thought he seemed nervous. For a fleeting moment, he nearly seemed human.
“We did,” he said lightly. “But seeing as how we are to spend the entire summer together, that may prove to be difficult.” She caught his posture shift from the corner of her eye. He was clearly waiting for some sign of recognition. When none came, he pressed on anyway, clearly unfazed by her silence. “So, rather than vexing each other every time we are forced to interact, I have come to propose a different arrangement.”
“Oh?” Grace replied, her voice laced with cool civility. She barely tolerated him, but she had enough manners not to ignore him completely. “And what might that be?”
“A truce?”
The uncertainty in his voice made Grace look up in surprise. Instead of his usual cocky expression, the eyes looking back at her were softer, almost sincere, and held what may have been the faintest flicker of fear. Maybe he was human after all.
“A truce?” she echoed. Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief, offering it to her with a soft smile. “It is the closest thing I have to a white flag,” He whispered.
Grace laughed in surprise as she took the token and gently laid it across her lap. It was finer than she would have expected him to carry—soft and delicate, trimmed with lace—but the elegantly stitchedOin the corner confirmed it was his. For a fleeting moment, she wondered which of his many admirers had made it for him, until she remembered that she did not care.
The sudden civility didn’t suit him, which only made Grace more suspicious. But something about his posture and the tone of his voice, lacking the sharp edge and pretense, kept reminding her of the things Sarah had said the night before.You may be surprised by what you find.
The trouble was, Grace had grown tired of life’s surprises. She much preferred going into situations already knowing exactly what to expect. “Matthew is making you be nice to me, isn’t he?”
Oliver nodded, laughing softly. “By threat of banishment,” he confirmed. Grace turned her eyes back to the pond as he lowered himself onto the grass beside her. He was alarmingly close—not inappropriately —but close enough that she was fully aware of every breath he took, and how he smelled of coffee, soap, and the woods after a summer storm. It should havebothered her, but it didn’t, a realization that was even more irritating than Oliver himself.
“I do not know why Matthew and Sarah believe I am incapable of taking care of myself,” Grace said, forcing herself to break the strangely comfortable silence settling between them. “Oh, on the contrary,” Oliver’s voice was light, but still held its newfound sincerity. “I believe they are fully aware of how capable you are of taking care of yourself. I just think they feel as though you should not have to.”
Grace’s body tensed involuntarily. “Perhaps they would do better to focus on each other, running the estate, or the family they’re about to have.” She plucked a blade of grass, turning it over between her fingers. “I do not need anyone worrying over me.” She let the words land with finality, hoping he would take notice and the conversation would end there.
“I do not think it’s about need,” Oliver said, idly tossing a pebble toward the water’s edge.The man was either obtuse or deliberately testing her.“They also lost Benjamin, and they are probably terrified of losing you as well.”
Grace’s throat tightened, a sudden heat rising in her chest. She hated how effortlessly he struck at what she had fought so hard to bury. “Do not speak as if you know anything about me,” she said sharply, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to appear controlled. “You do not know me at all.”
“You’re right, I do not,” Oliver said with disarming honesty. “Until now, we have barely had a proper conversation.” He leaned toward her slightly. Grace refused to meet his eyes, but she felt the steady weight of his gaze on her. “But I did know Benjamin. I heard how he spoke of you, and I saw you with him. If even a stranger can see how much you’ve changed since losing him—” He paused, his voice softening. “I can only imagine how hard it must be for those who love you.”
Grace squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall in front of him. “I thought this truce of yours was supposed to prevent you from vexing me.”
“I have an unfortunate habit of speaking out of turn.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Oliver leaned back again, the weight of his frame resting on his palms. “May I be forward?” Grace finally turned back to him, a scoff escaping her lips. “I was not aware you were capable of asking for permission.”
Oliver chuckled under his breath, but the amused expression that Grace had thought was permanent was absent. “Benjamin was the best of men, and a wonderful judge of character. It would be a shame if the person he loved so dearly were to disappear completely.”
Looking at him had been a mistake. There was too much depth in his eyes—understanding, grief, and something far too close to genuine kindness. She felt his words drag loose memories she had spent months trying to pretend didn’t hurt. Now caught in his gaze, she realized with a sharp twist of frustration, there was nowhere left to hide.
“I am not even sure I know who she is anymore.” Grace felt the words slip out softly, barely above a whisper.
Oliver’s gaze drifted to the water, giving her a quick reprieve from the unsettling honesty in his expression. “You should do your best to become reacquainted with her,” he said. “The longer you wait, the harder she will be to find.”
Grace studied him closely for the first time—not in the way every other woman in London did, swooning over the soft waves of his fair hair, the warm sparkle of his dark blue eyes, and those infuriatingly perfect dimples softening the strong lines of his jaw—but in a way that noticed the soft sag in his shoulders, the ghost of grief long settled behind his eyes, and a sorrow thatweighed down the corners of his mouth beneath that perfectly practiced smile.
“You sound as though you are speaking from experience.”
Oliver’s eyes met hers again, the familiar gleam returning, masking what she had seen just a moment before. “Perhaps I simply have a talent for saying what people need to hear.”
