Page 16 of Forever & Again
She was certain Mr. Weston had told her parents that Champion was being sold shortly after the accident. Though he had been uninjured in the fall, the memories that seeing him evoked were simply too much to keep him.
So why was he here?And why hadn’t Sarah told her?
Chapter Eight
Grace sat in the library at Somerton, curled up in one of the deep leather armchairs, a book open in her lap as the golden afternoon light poured across the floorboards. She wasn’t truly reading—her eyes drifting over the words without taking them in. Her mind caught between the memories of what had been, and the strange quiet of the past few days.
There had been no more arguments and no more unexpected confrontations. She had barely seen Oliver at all since their heated exchange at the garden party. She thought she preferred it that way, but she was quickly realizing that the silence his absence left made space for thoughts even more unpleasant than his company.
The door creaked softly, and Grace glanced up just as Oliver stepped into the room. He moved with surprising quiet for someone who so often commanded being the center of attention. He didn’t notice her at first, his hand skimming the bookshelves and his fingers brushing along the spines as though he were in search of a specific title.
He was halfway across the room when he spotted her. The flicker of alarm that crossed his face was almost comical. Heslowly turned around and tiptoed back towards the door. Grace rolled her eyes.He was absolutely absurd.
“Lord Blackburn.”
He stopped mid-step when Grace softly called his name. She could see him grimace slightly before composing himself to turn back and face her.
“Lady Rockwell.” He managed a graceful bow, despite his earlier theatrics. “I did consider retreating, though it seems I have been bested.”
Grace gave him a faint smile as she closed her book. “You needn’t run from me, Oliver.”
“Forgive me, my Lady,” He arched a brow, his eyes flicking back towards the door as if he were still contemplating an escape. “But past experience has suggested otherwise.”
Grace took in a steadying breath as she smoothed her hands over her skirts. The motion was meant to calm her heart, which was still beating just a tick too fast, but she pushed through it. “I would like to apologize." She said, the words barely making it past her lips. Oliver straightened immediately, and Grace couldn’t tell if he was genuinely surprised or startled by her admission.
“For my behavior at the Rutherford’s garden party,” she clarified. “I was unkind. You were only trying to help, and I made things unnecessarily difficult.”
Oliver crossed the room slowly, coming to rest near the unlit hearth, leaning one shoulder against the stone. “You are hardly the first lady to object to my company," he said lightly.
“Perhaps,” Grace shrugged. “But you did not deserve it. I am still trying to navigate life the way it is now, and I am afraid that I am failing more often than not.”
He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he studied her with what many people may have mistaken as pity, but Grace, who had endured enough pitiful glances over the past sevenmonths to know them well, recognized it for what it truly was:understanding.
“You are not failing, Grace,” he said softly. “You are surviving.”
Grace looked up to meet his eyes, and for one brief moment, she could clearly see the pain that was hiding beneath the cracks of his usual armor of charm.
Oliver offered a small smile, carefully tucking his ghosts back out of sight. “Though I have it on good authority…” he said, shifting back into his easy, familiar tone. “that survival is terribly undignified, but it is preferable to the alternative.”
Grace managed to stifle a chuckle as she set the book she had abandoned aside. Even if she had any interest in reading, the puzzling man in front of her was proving to be much more compelling than the story on those pages. “Terribly undignified?” she repeated.
He nodded, feigning solemnity. “Terrribly. There is much stumbling, occasional falling, and entirely too many moments of being caught crying over minor inconveniences.”
Grace smiled, and for once she didn’t even try to hold it back. Oliver smiled as well, but it was different from the one he usually offered, that was full of charm with an insincere twinkle in his eye. This one was quiet and peaceful in a way that stirred something forgotten in Grace’s chest.
“I know I have not made this truce easy,” she said softly, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had settled between them. “I appreciate you not giving up on me.”
“Well, I am exceedingly stubborn.” Oliver finally settled into the chair across from her. “It is either a grievous flaw or my most admirable quality.”
Grace shook her head, “I am not sure I have figured out which it is yet.”
“Take your time,” Oliver said, reaching for the book she had discarded on the table between their chairs. “You seem to have a fondness for mysteries. I am sure you will have me solved by the summer’s end.”
She watched as he thumbed through the pages of theAnn Radcliffenovel she had been pretending to read moments earlier. His light hair fell across his brow in soft waves, as his deep blue eyes moved slowly over the text.
In the moments like this, when he let the performance drop and forgot to be the man everyone said he was, Grace felt like she was seeing someone entirely different. His features were softer, his words carried no pretense, and something in her chest ached as though the broken parts of her were reaching out towards the broken parts of him that he was trying so desperately to hide.
“No,” she said softly to herself, her gaze still lingering on him. “I am not sure I will.”
