Page 3 of Forever & Again
The rest of the world had continued living without asking for Grace’s permission. Now she sat tucked against the wall like a ghost at a party that in another life, she was meant to host.
“Lady Rockwell.”
Blasted, useless, traitorous wall.
“Lord Blackburn,” she said coolly. Grace turned her head just enough to give the illusion of manners, but not enough to meet his gaze.
He would be the only man brazen enough to approach her corner of self-imposed isolation. Up until now, her frosty silenceand the general discomfort of speaking to someone fresh out of mourning had kept everyone else at bay.
“To what do I owe this displeasure?” She smiled, though it did nothing to warm the ice in her tone.
Lord Blackburn gave a slow, unrepentant smile as he lowered himself onto the chair beside her. A touch of venom was nothing to Oliver Blackburn; in fact, it only encouraged him.
“You wound me, Lady Rockwell.” He placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. “I am here out of only the purest intentions.”
“Oh, really? And what might those be?” She knew she couldn’t encourage him, but the temptation to best him at his own game was more enticing than sitting in silence with the thoughts of all she had lost.
“I merely came to inquire after your well-being,” he said, his voice light as though the entire encounter were solely for his own amusement. “You have been absent from society for quite some time. Some may say you have even been missed.”
Grace had heard enough about Oliver Blackburn from Benjamin, Matthew, and the countless ladies he had left heartbroken to know that he likely hadn’t even noticed her absence. She crossed her arms, lifting one brow in practiced indifference.“I am sure you have had plenty of young ladies to keep you well occupied.”
“You flatter yourself, Lady Rockwell,” he said, his lips twitching, trying to hold back a smile. “I never said it was I who missed you.”
One point, Lord Blackburn.
Grace bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression neutral, unwilling to grant him the satisfaction of a reaction. “So again I ask, to what do I owe this displeasure?”
Lord Blackburn leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. His posture was all ease, as if he werehaving a pleasant conversation with an old friend, though Grace could hardly think of a more ill-fitting word to describe him.
“You looked rather lonely, and if I may be so bold, quite pitiful as well.” He shrugged lightly. “Frankly, it was bringing down the overall cheer of the room. Since no one else seemed brave enough to approach the bear hiding in the corner, I took it upon myself, for the good of the gathering, to intervene.”
Grace forced a smile to mask the sting his words left behind. “So your intentions are not only pure, but noble as well?” Oliver flashed her a grin, seeming much more genuine than her own. “I am glad you see it that way.”
Sensitivity was clearly not his strong suit, and though it did not surprise Grace in the least, the directness of his words still caught her off guard. But if he could be so bold, then what was stopping her?
“I do not.” She said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “And I assure you, your presence here has not improved my mood, but has only soured it further. If you would like to continue on your gallant campaign, might I suggest one of the wide-eyed does near the refreshment table? I am sure you shall have any one of them smitten in no time, and then you may go about your business of shattering her hopes and disappearing without a trace.” Grace held his gaze a moment longer, allowing her moment of victory to settle over them both. There was simply no way he could counter.
“Is that truly what you think of me?” Lord Blackburn paused just long enough for Grace to feel the briefest flicker of regret, wondering if she had gone too far, but it did not last long.
Oliver leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with equal parts victory and mischief. He reached out to rest a hand on the arm of Grace’s chair, but it was his gaze rather than the nearness of him that held her captive.
“I am flattered that you believe I could inspire such strong devotion in so short a time.”
Two points, Lord Blackburn.
Grace felt the flush in her cheeks deepen as his eyes searched hers expectantly. He was waiting for a retort, but the grin that slowly unfurled on his lips proved that he knew she had none.
Oliver cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Despite your repeated flattery, Lady Rockwell, I am starting to sense that my presence is not entirely welcome.” His smug smile stayed firmly in place, and his gaze remained locked on hers. “I suppose I shall direct my attentions elsewhere.” He nodded to a fiery-haired girl across the room. “Lady Talbot, for instance, seems like a worthy candidate.”
Grace lifted her chin, trying to regain the upper hand and convince herself that she had ever had it. “I believe I shall manage to hide my disappointment.”
“No,” he said, standing slowly, as if reluctant to see their little dance come to an end. “I don’t believe you shall.”
Grace didn’t wait for him to walk away. She rose to her feet in one fluid motion and turned sharply in the opposite direction. She wasn’t walking towards anything in particular, simply away from him. She prayed it looked like a saunter, but it felt more like fleeing.
Insufferable man.
The room swelled around her in a crush of noise and ease, as though no one else had discovered what a brutal and heart-crushing place the world truly was. She rose to her toes searching for Sarah, but instead caught a glimpse of familiar reddish curls towering above the crowd.He would have to do.
