“Very well.” His mother followed him out the door.
The servants had already started to clean up the spilled tea and broken china that lay scattered all over the foyer. Gavin guided his mother to a corner out of earshot. “My apologies, Mother. I took the tray from the servant and was just bringing in the tea when I thought I heard you invite Grace to stay here. Pray tell me you have not offered such a thing.”
“Whyever not?”
“Well . . . ,” he flustered, “as you are so fond of telling me, this is my home now. And I am a single gentleman.”
“Nonsense, I live here too. There is nothing improper about it. She will be my pupil, and I shall find her a husband by the time the season is up. Mark my word.”
Gavin felt his throat tighten ever so slightly with anxiety. “But,” he stammered, “we know so little about her. What if she has a past that would taint us by association?” He had his own reasons for hesitating, but he had no intention of discussing them with his mother.
“Really, Gavin, how much more can our names be tainted? There are already enough rumors floating around about Spencer and your father that we cannot go unnoticed.”
“Precisely. That is exactly why she cannot stay under my roof.”
His mother pressed her lips together and placed her hand on his face and said, “It is done. I cannot take back the invitation, nor will I.”
He groaned inwardly and prayed that at least Gigi had the sense to decline the offer.
CHAPTER 2
While the duchess was outside talking with Gavin, Grace inspected her ankle. She could move it with a bit of pain, so it probably was not broken. She pointed her toes and could feel its strength, but when she rotated it inward . . . She winced at precisely the wrong moment; Gavin had just come in and witnessed her flinch. Once again, she felt weak. She didn’t like to feel weak. She quickly covered her ankle again and sat back against the pillow.
Grace gave what she hoped was a plausible smile and announced, “I have good news: I may not need a doctor.”
Gavin chuckled, and the sound brought back flashes of childhood memories, recollections of his glorious laughter. Although, this laughter had a deep resonance to it that sent tingles up her spine. She looked at him and saw the excessive confidence that he had always carried, and she smiled more sincerely. Gavin was always so bright and carefree. He never let anything bother him, not even when she would prank him. If anything, he welcomed it.
One summer, she had snuck into his bedchamber and stole a pair of pantaloons and his best shirt. The gardener helped her fashion them into a scarecrow with a large, painted gourd for a head. She hung a sign around his neck—Kiss me! I know you want to!—and put him on the road that led to town. Young girls from all over the village dared each other to kiss the scarecrow. Gavin thought it was such a good joke that he refused to let anyone take it down.
There were rumors that Gavin would hide behind a tree and watch the girls reaching up on their tippy toes to kiss the gourd. If the girl were plain, he would jump out and scare her; but if she were handsome, he would insist on a real kiss. This only encouraged more girls to romance a painted vegetable to see which of the surprises they would obtain for their efforts. Once, she asked him if the rumors were true. With a glint in his eye, Gavin denied any involvement and suggested, “Try it and see for yourself!” But Grace was never brave enough to try.
That was how Gavin was. He didn’t mind being the center of attention, and he didn’t seem to mind being in trouble either. Some days he was more trouble than she could handle, but it didn’t stop her from spending day after day with him.
Two years before he left for Eton, what started as a simple trick to frighten Grace’s governess with crickets in her soup, escalated into a scheme of Gavin throwing up crickets during lunch. They spent all afternoon catching the insects. Gavin found that he could hold three in his mouth without gaging, but four made his stomach clench. How he handled even one was beyond Grace. Her role was simple but vital, as she needed to do all the talking until the time was right. Then Gavin moaned and wailed and retched the crickets into his soup bowl.
The governess screamed and resigned her position on the spot. She reconsidered only after the duchess secured vows from both youths that they would never eat live crickets again. Gavin said his vow with a faint smile, whispering to Grace that he hadn’t actually eaten any and never intended to.
Grace found herself in the midst of trouble many more times until he left for school at Eton. And when he did, she found her days were dull and lifeless. He had been such a huge part of her life that his absence left a void.
When she heard that he was back that first summer, she was so excited to see him and hear how school had been that she could hardly finish her lessons. But no sooner had she ran out to meet him than she found him headed to her door to tell her about it. It had always been that way with them. They were the best of friends. Nothing stopped them from seeing each other.
Soon their parents gave up trying to separate them for their studies and hired a tutor to teach them both during the summer break. More often than not, they would find mischief, because that was the best part about Gavin; he was always getting into trouble. He had a knack for literally tripping into the muck and then laughing about it.
It wasn’t until the summer before her father died, when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, that things started to change. As usual, they had shared a tutor, but this time they had shared a dancing master as well. It all started out so innocent. And then things changed.
Gavin’s voice startled her back to Willsing Manor. “Grace? Are you sure you are well?”
She looked up at his worried brow. He had changed a great deal since that summer. He was quite handsome, none of the awkward pre-adulthood problems. His skin was clear, his jaw was strong and chiseled, and his sideburns were long and shaved in the latest fashion. His hair was a darker blonde, and his chestnut brown eyes . . . were different. They had always been so expressive when they were young, but now they seemed guarded.
“Yes, I think I can walk now. This happens to me all the time.”
He let down his guard momentarily. The left side of his mouth turned up, and his right eyebrow arched. “A man runs into you and knocks you down all the time?” he asked.
She felt her heart flutter, and she quickly looked away, trying not to smile. Gibblets! Did he have to be so handsome? Say something, Grace!
“Indeed not, Your Grace. That was a first. I mean I roll my ankles all the time.”
His eyes narrowed. The effect was instantaneous, like blowing out a candle. He had changed back again from his lighthearted, teasing self to a man who seemed to know his role. She wondered what his role was at the moment.
“Did I say something wrong, Your Grace?”
There was a moment of silence, and then he offered his hand in a cool manner and said, “Try to stand up. Hold onto me if you need to.”
She didn’t fail to notice that he had changed the subject, but she did as he asked. She gingerly placed both feet under her and felt him gently pull her up. From experience, she placed all her weight on the right leg and then eased into shifting her weight. She tried not to grimace, but he was too observant and wrapped a supporting arm around her waist, which only made her knees even more unsteady. She could nearly feel his breath next to her.
It was just like their dance lessons.
She looked up at him briefly and caught his watchful gaze. He smelled so heavenly! It was a mixture of sage and lemon, the same soap he had always used, but, in case she was in any doubt, the sandalwood addition confirmed that he was no longer an adolescent. She felt her palms and cheeks heat up, which was not good. He could always tell when she was getting emotional because her cheeks colored. Most of the time it was from anger or irritation with him, and she prayed he assumed the same reason now. She did not wish him to know what she was thinking.
Suddenly she knew her ankle would have to hold up her own weight rega
rdless of whether or not it was capable. She stood up straight and said, “Thank you, Your Grace. I believe it is as I said; I shall be fine. I will just put on my boot again and be on my way. No need for a doctor.”
He nodded but did not step away as she had hoped. Her cheeks colored again. Why wasn’t he letting her go? She threw him a nervous glance, and he appeared to suddenly realize her meaning. Carefully stepping away, he let her bear her own weight. He seemed to be waiting for something; was he waiting to see her fail? She was not going to give him the satisfaction.
Gavin cleared his throat and eyed her boot, still sitting across the room where the maid had placed it. “Yes, of course, Grace,” he said. “No doubt you have several prior engagements for this afternoon. Do not let me detain you any longer.” He then exited with a smile and left her standing all alone in the parlor.
*****
After discussing a few unimportant sundries in the foyer with his butler, Gavin peeked back into the parlor and held back a smile. Determination was written across Grace’s face, and she had every intention of reaching her boot. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders and took a few faltering steps. Still the same Grace, I see.
It reminded him of when Spencer would pull her pigtails. No one was allowed to do that but Gavin. It was an unspoken ritual. Whenever she grew too stubborn or pigheaded, Gavin would pull on her pigtails and say, “A tail for the stubborn pig.” But if Spencer dared try, Grace would wrestle him to the ground. She knew all sorts of ways to pin his arm behind him until Spencer yelled out, begging for mercy.
This is ridiculous, Grace! How he wished he could pull her pigtails now! She hobbled in her own feminine way over to her boot, but she was clearly in pain. Her every movement was cautious, and she held her breath with each step, letting out an audible sigh when the weight transferred to her good foot.
Why must she always have things her way? She never did like to lose, but this is hardly a competition.
Walking back toward her, he clicked his heels a little loudly, alerting her of his presence again. She pursed her lips together and straightened up as he approached, letting go of the settee she had been using as a support. As proudly as she could, she lifted her chin and said, “Perhaps I could use a doctor.”
“Is this Gigi admitting she needs help?” Gavin folded his arms in front of him and leaned against the doorway, casually bending a knee as if he had all the time in the world to wait. He knew she was hurting, but he also knew what she was made of. None of the ladies he ever came across were made of the same stuff.
She flashed him an angry look and said, “I said no such thing. I can retrieve my boot without your help.”
He walked over to the boot and handed it to her. “You only had to ask. Now, sit down before you fall, you stubborn girl.”
“I am not a girl anymore.”
His breath caught in his throat. He was all too aware of how she was no longer a girl, but it was entirely inappropriate to say that. He pulled himself together and said, “Yes. If I am to understand correctly, you are my mother’s pupil now. Hardly a girl, for sure.”
Gigi opened her mouth to speak, but their attention was turned to the door when his mother’s voice echoed her disapproval. “Sit down, Grace, this instant! The doctor is here to examine you. Gavin, how can you stand three feet from her without offering any kind of assistance?”
Knowing there would be no peace until he did as his mother told him, Gavin stepped forward and offered his arm for support. Grace took his arm and allowed him to assist her back to the chaise. She always did like his mother.
The duchess then directed the doctor into the room, and out of propriety, Gavin turned around while the man examined her ankle. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen her feet before—they had waded in the river all summer long—but this was different. She was a grown woman now, no matter how close they had been as children.
She was different now. She seemed hardened. Not just stubborn, but compulsively independent. He wondered what had made her so stoic. Where was the witty young girl who had made him laugh since before he could remember? What had her life been like over the last ten years?
Mr. Hyde made his assessment and confirmed that the bone was not broken. He advised her to rest the foot as much as possible to avoid any further strain. Apparently there was no swelling yet, but it should be expected. She would be back to normal in a day or two.
Gavin assumed it was safe to turn his attention back to the doctor, and he was indeed correct. Gigi was covering her foot, and once again she had bright color rising in her cheeks. She thanked the doctor graciously, and Gavin seconded the sentiments, only to add that the patient would be well taken care of here at Willsing Manor. Gavin rang the bell, and the butler showed the doctor out.
The duchess inquired after the tea, and then she turned her attention back to Gigi.
“So, Grace, darling, where are you staying right now?”
“With my second-eldest sister, Sarah, and her husband. She lives here in London.”
“And your other sister? Is she settled as well?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Tamara married almost immediately after Papa died and now has two children. I have been living with her for several years. I only came to London a few weeks ago to prepare for another season, but unfortunately Sarah took ill after my arrival. She is with child, and we are all very worried. We barely had enough time to get measured for a few new gowns before the doctor confined her to bed.”
The duchess took a seat next to her and reached for her hand. “I am so terribly sorry. This is Sarah’s first child?”
“This is the first one she carried this far. She is in her seventh month now. She and her husband are devastated over the illness, but she is following the doctor’s orders religiously, and we all hope for the best. She sleeps a great deal now. During her naps I often feel the need to stretch my legs. I was just coming back from a walk this afternoon when—”
“—when my son ran into you,” the duchess finished for her. “I, for one, am so glad he did. How delightful to see you again!”
Gavin stepped into the conversation and said, “I will write to your sister directly.”
“No, if you could just take me home, that would be my preference. Even if your mother is sponsoring me, I will be much more comfortable––”
“Nonsense, Gigi. You heard the doctor,” Gavin said. I can be stubborn too. “You will stay here.” It just felt right to offer her his home. She was like family and always had been. Well, perhaps not always.
She seemed to be either staring him down or trying to determine how he really felt about her staying at Willsing Manor. Either was a real possibility, so he gave her the benefit of the doubt and confirmed what he hoped was the reason for the prolonged silence. “I would be honored to have you in my home. After all, we have a great deal to catch up on, Gigi. What better way than to take our meals together like we did all those years ago? Only this time, we will not be in the nursery with your dolls’ tea set. Then again, your dolls’ tea set might be useful if you still have it. I seem to have broken my mother’s last set.” He gave her a wink which earned him a smile in return.
It was a beautiful smile, which she had shown infrequently thus far, and it affected him more than he had anticipated. It sparked something inside him. Something that had been dormant for a while. Maybe it was a blessing that she had come back into his world. She was so full of life.
He had not even noticed that he was examining her again, but his mother’s words broke the spell. “Willsing Manor will come alive with your presence, Grace. What a delightful time we will have! Eliza and I enjoyed her season so much.”
“How is Eliza?”
“Splendid. She lives in Derbyshire with her husband, a very fine man, Sir Jonathan Jones. She still comes to town every now and again, but I miss having her around.” The duchess beamed. “I must admit that I am nearly giddy to think that I shall have a hand in finding you a husband! Gavin and I will make sure that you
have a successful season, right, Gavin?”
He snickered a little and said, “Mother, if you intend to make me a part of this, I cannot guarantee that she will find much success. I, myself, have only been back in society for a few months. Grace will probably make more connections by walking the streets with an umbrella and a book on a rainy day. Look what it did for her already.” He was pleased that she recognized he was teasing her.
Grace replied with a laugh. “Indeed,” she giggled, “I could very nearly start an advent calendar for my wedding day if the gleam in your mother’s eye is any indication of the efforts she will make on my behalf.”
Gavin tapped his finger on Grace’s nose and said, “There she is. I wondered what you had done with my best friend.”
*****
Grace forced herself to smile back at Gavin. She wanted to say that she had done nothing with his best friend. She wanted to say that she had always been around; it was he who had abandoned her. But she could not. The real truth was evident to her without her making conflict; life had simply gotten in the way.
There was nothing she could have done when her father suddenly died of influenza. Their estate in Suffolk was entailed away to her cousin, and there was little money. The small stipend awarded her mother was barely enough to start fresh, let alone to visit old friends. Travel was expensive, and her mother was determined to squirrel away every possible penny for her daughters’ nearly nonexistent dowries. That meant that Grace could not go to see her best friend, Gavin; she learned to forget him as best as she could.
The duchess ushered in the tea, and they talked briefly of their plans for the next few weeks. Gavin kept looking at Grace. It was all she could do not to stare back at him. He seemed to switch from the boy she remembered to someone who resembled what she remembered of his father. She wondered what was weighing on him.
Finally, when it looked like the next two weeks were sufficiently planned, Grace asked politely if someone could send word to her sister, Sarah Shaulis of Foxtail Lane. Gavin jumped at the opportunity and slipped out of the parlor to do that very thing.
Inspired by Grace Page 2