Page 35 of Forever & Again
Oliver sat at the far end of the table, alarmingly quiet. For the first time in days, Grace was unable to read his expression, and he seemed far more interested in the food he was pushing around his plate than in making conversation.
Bits of memory from the night before flickered through her mind like shadows peaking from behind a curtain: Matthew’s desk, Oliver’s voice, a woman’s name, something about horses… and then nothing. But whatever it was that she couldn’t remember was causing her cheeks to flush and her heart to stutter.
Sarah hummed under her breath as she spread marmalade on her toast, completely oblivious to the quiet tension at theother end of the table. “I must say,” she began lightly, pointing her knife in Grace and Oliver’s direction. “You two certainly know how to exit a party.”
Oliver’s fork fell to his plate with a loud clatter, and Grace nearly cursed under her breath as the sound seemed to echo through the room.
“What do you mean?” he asked, failing to hide the panic in his voice.
“One minute you were both there, and the next you were gone,” Sarah said, turning back to her plate. “We had to assure half of the guests that you were not planning a grand elopement.”
Grace lowered her head to the table. Maybe if she stayed very still, they would forget she was even in the room.
“We did not leave together,” Oliver said quickly.
“I know,” Sarah replied with a breezy wave of her hand. “But you disappeared suspiciously close together. The timing was unhelpful.”
Matthew grinned behind his cup, “It is always the timing.”
Grace stole a glance at Oliver just in time to see him look away from her. Her stomach twisted in a tight knot. She wasn’t sure what he was remembering, but judging by the far-off look in his eye, and the slight flush peeking above his cravat, he remembered much more than she did.
“Whatever happened,” Sarah continued, her tone far too bright for the early hour, “I hope it was worth the scandal.”
“Nothing happened,” Oliver declared, but the tightness in his jaw—and the fact that he was still refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table—suggested otherwise.
Grace stared at him, silently hoping that the very sight of him would shed light on the shadows flickering through her mind. The longer she looked at him, the more the broken fragments pressed at the edges of her memory: the scent ofbrandy, the heat of his breath too close to hers, whispered words that had no right following her into the light of the morning.
Grace startled at the sound of her own teacup rattling against the saucer. The minty liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim before a few drops splattered onto the white linen tablecloth. She steadied it quickly before pressing her palms together in her lap to stop them from shaking.
She looked up to find everyone’s eyes on her, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze caused her heart to press hard against her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs.
“Are you alright, Gracie?” Grace looked up to find Matthew watching her with equal parts concern and amusement.
“I am fine,” she said too quickly, her voice a shade too thin. Matthew’s brows lifted. “You have not touched your toast.”
“I do not want toast.”
“You always want toast.” His tone was light and teasing, but his eyes searched her face.
“I am full.”
“You haven’t eaten anything.”
Grace exhaled slowly, pinching her palms tighter in her lap. “Honestly, Matthew, you are a married man now. Is tormenting Sarah not enough that you must extend the favor to me as well?”
Matthew leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling. “Sarah hardly ever fights back anymore. You, on the other hand, make it sport.”
Grace scoffed, but color rose in her cheeks. “If you are looking for sport, then perhaps you should challenge me to fencing, rather than badgering me at breakfast.”
“I would,” Matthew said, an infuriating smirk spreading across his face, “But I would hate to compete with any private lessons you may have been enjoying this summer.”
Grace froze, her eyes widening. While fencing hadn’t been part of their secret games, she knew perfectly well that Matthewwas hinting at the stolen hours she and Oliver had spent together over the summer.
“I am sure Oliver is a wonderful instructor—” He cut off with a sharp grunt as Sarah jabbed her elbow into his ribs, though her eyes also sparkled with amusement.
Grace felt her face flame, but Oliver managed to remain unnervingly calm as he continued to rearrange the eggs on his plate. Grace pressed a cool hand to her cheek. Her head still pounded, her stomach still churned, but if eating was the only way to escape Matthew’s line of questioning, she would find a way to force down a few bites of toast and jam.
She reached for the jar of preserves across the table, but the sudden movement sent the room spinning. “Ollie,” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. “Would you please hand me those?”
