Gavin offered his arm, and they exited together. There was still a bit of a chill in the late-October air; she could feel his warmth next to her.
They walked for a bit without talking. Then she asked, “Gavin, what was your father like?”
“You know what he was like.”
“I do. But I want you to say it.”
She heard him take a deep breath before he said, “Being a duke was the most important thing to him. Do you remember how he made me call him ‘Your Grace’ when we were in public?”
“Yes.”
“His entire self-worth was wrapped up in his title. He was obsessed with power and respect. Every decision was handled as if it was a matter of the greatest importance. He was always in Parliament when it was in session. Before the king fell ill, he was quite influential. Growing up, he had been good friends with King George. But when the Prince Regent took over, I think my father grieved more for his own loss of influence than for the man he supposedly called ‘friend’. Everything was a matter of status.” He paused momentarily.
Grace said, “Go on.”
“He was always grooming Spencer—or, more precisely, criticizing him. You remember. Spencer did not think like a duke; he did not carry himself like a duke; he did not talk like a duke. I remember thinking over and over again that I was so glad that I was not the heir. If Spencer could not do it, I would have been hopeless.”
She sensed Gavin was finally getting around to what was really bothering him. She glanced up at him and gave him an encouraging look.
“Well, you know how I am,” he sighed. “I trip; I drop things; I spill. How could I ever walk like a duke? I do not have an air of authority. My countenance does not demand respect as my father’s did.”
They walked in silence a few steps before Grace asked, “Can I tell you what I think?” Gavin nodded. “You worry that accepting your father’s title will somehow turn you into him.” He started to protest, but she shushed him. “No, Gavin, you do. You worry there is some mold that all dukes must conform to. But you are wrong. Perhaps you do not walk like your father, but you are still a duke. I always feel a certain amount of relief when I hear the clippity-clop of your boots coming down the stairs. Your confident stride does not elicit fear like your father’s prideful gait; but it sparks something else. Something that I think your father always wanted but never really had.”
Gavin stopped walking for a moment and looked at her. “What?”
“Respect. You said so yourself: he wanted the world to respect him. He used his title to claim that respect, but we both know he did not earn it from people. You, on the other hand, have the respect of every person you meet. The kindness you show people, no matter their status in society, is unprecedented. People love you.”
“But I am the least graceful man I know, and everyone is forced to call me ‘Your Grace’.” She could hear the pain in his voice that came from something deep and well-developed, something that had been festering for six months like a growth in his heart.
“Gavin, perhaps you do not smoothly saunter,” Grace said, “but you bring other qualities to the title. This mold that you imagine all dukes must conform to is rather ridiculous. No other role or title comes with such a delineation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Consider the other roles of life. I was born as a sister and daughter. Someday I hope to inherit the role of wife and mother, and if I am lucky, I will live to take the role of grandmother. Should all sisters act a certain way? Should I pattern my behavior after Eliza? Or Sarah? Or Tamara? Or should I be myself?”
Gavin looked pensive as he pondered her words. They walked a while in silence. “Besides,” she added, “there is more to grace than walking smoothly.”
“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.
“Well, ‘grace’ has many definitions. Since my name is Grace, my mother made me learn its meanings long ago. For instance, you can grace someone with your presence. In that sense ‘grace’ means to honor someone. Or it can also mean being pleasant, poised, and polite.”
“I suppose I am pleasant,” Gavin admitted. “At least I try to be. Perhaps not poised, though.”
“You are very pleasant,” Grace said. Feeling a blush starting, she quickly moved the conversation along, “Consider the meaning in this sentence: ‘That man has all the grace of the young at heart.’ ‘Grace’ can mean charm as well.”
He smiled quirkily and reached up to her face and caressed it with the back of his fingers. “Am I charming?”
His touch burned her cheeks, contrasting to the chill that was in the air. It literally made her insides melt. Even though he was trying to tease her, she could never give him anything less than complete honesty. “Quite charming, sometimes painfully so,” she admitted. Then quickly changing the subject, she said, “What if I were to say, ‘He had the grace not to disparage his mother publically’?” she asked. “What would ‘grace’ mean in that sentence?”
“I suppose it means a solid understanding of right and wrong,” he replied.
She could see he was starting to understand. “Exactly! What if I said, ‘She showed remarkable grace in handling the crisis’?”
“I suppose it can also mean dignity. I had no idea ‘grace’ had so many different meanings—honor, integrity, dignity, charm . . . How do you remember them all?” he teased her.
“It has taken me my whole life to understand my name. Fortunately my mother had the grace to start when I was a little girl,” she smiled back.
“Ah ha!” he laughed. “I can think of another definition we have not discussed yet. What about ‘grace’ in a spiritual sense?”
“Well, I recommend you study that on your own. I believe we learn better when we are seeking answers. Things become engraved in our hearts when our minds are hungry and our hearts thirsty. Now, my fingers are getting chilled. Might I ask for your hand to cover mine?”
“You never need to ask.” He covered her hand with his. He then winked at her and huskily asked, “How are your lips?”
The man has more confidence than the Prince Regent himself! And he enjoys embarrassing me far too much! “Toasty warm,” was all the response she could muster.
He chuckled and tapped her nose with his finger, replaced his hand over hers, and turned back around to head home. “Now, I ask you, Gigi, how is it I have the ability to warm your cheeks with a simple wink and a single sentence?”
Indeed her cheeks were flushed. “It must be all of the charm and grace you never knew you had!”
She felt the moment was coming to a close, but there was one more thing she needed to say while he was listening so closely.
She looked up at him for emphasis. She wanted to make sure he was really listening. “One more thing. Sometimes ‘grace’ is a quality that gives something that ‘little something special’ which increases its value or worth.” She took a moment and swallowed. “For example, I might say, ‘As if being my best friend were not enough, Gavin has the grace to assure me that I will never be lonely again.’ I do not care whether you ever take being the Duke of Huntsman seriously, but you should never fear being called Your Grace. It is the highest form of respect. Whether you believe it or not, you are graceful—at least to me.”
His eyes softened as he looked down at her, and the sweetest smile appeared on his face. “I have not blushed in years. Thank you for saying that. I know it took great courage, and you have made my day.”
CHAPTER 11
When Grace and Gavin returned from their walk, Robison was waiting for them. “Mr. Ellis, Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Harrison are in the parlor with the duchess,” he announced.
“To see me?” Gavin teased. “How thoughtful of them!”
Robison cleared his throat and clarified what everyone already knew: “To see Miss Iverson, sir.”
Grace turned to Gavin with a worried look on her face. “Which one was Mr. Ellis?” she asked.
Gavin tried to act natural, but his response was edged with a bit of sar
casm. “The handsome, intelligent chap who gave no indication that he would be calling today. He sat on my end of the table.”
“Oh, yes, I remember meeting him. But I only spoke to him once the whole night. I cannot imagine why he feels so encouraged.” Grace took a deep breath. “Gavin, how do I do this?” she asked anxiously. “I feel as if I must put on a show. What if I do something wrong?”
“Gigi, just be friendly. You could never fail at that.” Gavin took her hand and squeezed it. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. There is nowhere I would rather be than with you. Especially when three men are falling at your feet.”
Gavin had been expecting a retaliation, so when Grace playfully took a swing at him, he easily dodged it. And when she sent him her most-irritated look, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Instead, he enjoyed the opportunity to admire her pouty, tempting lips.
“Now, Gigi,” he teased, “with that pout on your lips, it almost looks as if you are puckering up for a kiss!”
Grace glanced at the butler with a rather embarrassed look, but Robison had the dignity to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. Gavin leaned in and whispered, “Forgive me. As your best friend, I should know better than to embarrass you.” Then he cleared his throat and proclaimed, “I believe it is time to help you choose your husband. Come, they have waited long enough.”
The visitors stood as Gavin and Grace entered the parlor. For a moment, Grace appeared unsure about whom to acknowledge first. Each suitor had brought flowers. Mr. Harrison had bluebells, Lewis had daisies, and of course the flagrant Ellis had the largest batch of all. Red roses! Rather bold of you, Ellis. At least I chose yellow to represent friendship. Ellis was almost as much of a dandy as Mr. Woods. “Good morning, Mr. Harrison,” Grace began. “I hope you do not mind taking tea before our ride.”
Ah, perfect, Grace! Let Lewis and Ellis know you will take tea with them, but make it clear you had a previous engagement with Harrison. It was evident, despite her concerns, that Grace could handle the situation without him. But Gavin had no intention of leaving. He wasn’t about to grant a suitor unrestricted access to the woman of his dreams—definitely not three of them at once.
Harrison replied, “It is rather ch-chilly outside. I have no problem delaying our ride until it is warmer.”
Mr. Ellis laughed haughtily. “Harrison,” he snickered, “most people go riding in Hyde Park in the early evening! I am sure that is when Miss Iverson was expecting you!”
Grace smiled and ignored the barb, “I am quite looking forward to our ride, Mr. Harrison. Thank you for the bluebells. My father used to tell me that my eyes are the color of bluebells. How very thoughtful of you! And thank you for the roses, Mr. Ellis. They are so beautiful. It is good to see you again, Mr. Lewis. I used to play with daisies as a child, and they always bring me pleasant memories. Thank you all for coming, but really, there was no need for any of you to bring me flowers.”
She directed the servant to take the flowers to her chambers and proclaimed that it would be the best-smelling room in the neighborhood. Everyone took their seats, and the tea was brought in.
Gavin moved to take the tray but froze when he heard his mother gently clear her throat behind him. He forgot he had promised her to not carry her nice dishes anymore. He glanced at his mother and then at Grace, who had also seen his mother’s subtle warning. He couldn’t help but smile at Grace’s poor attempts to hide her amusement. When no one was looking, Gavin winked at her.
The duchess directed the servant to place the tea in front of Grace. Grace’s smile faded slightly. He knew what she was thinking. She was wishing that his mother would pour the tea herself, but Grace understood her role as debutant. Every move she made was to be scrutinized as if she were applying for a position in a shop.
Gavin sat back and thought, Let the interview begin.
For the next half hour, Grace was the epitome of genteel society. She politely smiled at each gentleman’s efforts to engage her attention and gave enough encouragement to make each man feel like he was the favored one. The time passed quickly as he marveled at her ability to handle the situation. He thought to himself, This is what real grace looks like. Indeed, she had taught him more about grace in the last hour than he had learned in his entire life.
He didn’t even flinch at being addressed as “Your Grace” during tea. He actually felt a bit of pride when Grace said it. For the first time, he felt content with his new title. He understood now that grace was more than being the opposite of clumsy. It meant being the bigger man in impossible situations, like Grace was doing right now as three—no, four—potential suitors sat in front of her.
When Mr. Lewis and Mr. Ellis were finally shown out by Robison, Gavin sighed in relief and slapped Harrison on the shoulder. “Good man, Harrison. You probably thought they would never leave! Take care of Grace for me. And do not spread any accusations you are not prepared to defend with fisticuffs.” Harrison smiled and Gavin could see that he didn’t take the threat seriously, which was somewhat disappointing.
As he watched them leave for their ride, Gavin couldn’t help but ponder what was different today from last night. He had been jealous last night, yes—and he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the sight of Grace walking off with Harrison just now—but it was more than that. Last night he had been filled with distrust, resentment, and anger—all familiar feelings these past six months.
Ever since he became the Duke of Huntsman, he had distrusted every kindness shown him. He assumed everyone was looking to improve their situation in life. Every look or flirtation made him want to turn and run in the other direction.
He had resented his brother for living the kind of life that made the Earl of Longmont suspect him. He had been angry at his father for believing himself important enough to single-handedly prevent a duel.
But something was different today. He was still the Duke of Huntsman. His brother and father were still gone. And he still missed his carefree days at sea. But today he felt content. For the first time in his life, someone had told him he was graceful. Grace had changed everything. She was an inspiration.
*****
Grace was better prepared to go out in the cool weather; this time she brought her gloves. As she exited with Mr. Harrison, she was overwhelmed by the phaeton in front of them. It was an impressive silver color with red decorative metalwork. It seemed rather flashy for the shy man standing next to her.
The matched chestnut mares harnessed to it were nothing less than stunning. “What beautiful horses!” Grace exclaimed. “Their legs are so shapely And they must be at least seventeen hands tall. Is that not large for mares?” Mr. Harrison did not say anything right away. When she turned to look at him, he was blushing. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
“No, n-not at all. Fo-for-forgive me. I was rather distracted and was just thinking how lovely you look in the sunlight. Your hair is beau-beautiful. And your father was right; your eyes do appear the color of bl-bl-blue-bluebells.”
Gavin used to say they were blue as bluebells in rain or shine. She tried again to push him from her thoughts. “Thank you,” Grace said. He’s blushing again! Oh my, he must be even more nervous than I am. Grace focused on putting Harrison at ease. She gently put her hand on his arm and asked, “May I meet your horses?”
He led her to the front, and she rubbed their noses a little and combed her fingers through their mane.
“Your interest surprises me, Miss Iverson. Do you enjoy riding?” Harrison asked.
“I used to. I admit I have not had much opportunity during the last ten years. But I still appreciate their beauty.”
“Yes, beauty is something that is universal.”
“I highly doubt that. I think that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What you may think is beautiful would not attract a bee.”
“I-I-I think your b-beau-beauty would be con-con-considered striking by anyone,” he stuttered.
&nb
sp; “That was a very kind lie, but I do not need flattery. I think we can have an enjoyable time as friends.”
“Yes, as friends.” He paused to help her into the phaeton, and once settled and on their way to Hyde Park, he continued where they left off as if the thought had been at the tip of his tongue all along. “Friends like you and Kingston.”
It took a moment to connect the two comments. “Yes,” Grace said. “Gavin and I are very good friends.”
“Really? I know how difficult it can be to articulate one’s thoughts, Miss Iverson, but there is clearly more to your relationship than just friends.” He glanced over to her before she could hide her embarrassment. “Come now, I find you very at-attr-atractive, and I cannot deny that you are extremely stimulating to converse with, but I also know there is no chance for me when the d-du-duke means so much to you.”
Grace looked down at her hands, and she fought the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She had not trusted a soul with her thoughts over the last few days, but for some reason, she felt safe with Mr. Harrison. He seemed trustworthy. As he patiently waited for her to reply, his silence filled her with confidence.
Finally she opened with what she hoped would not expose her too much: “I do find Gavin just as pleasurable as ever.”
Mr. Harrison turned down a quiet path through the park, and she was pleased that he simply waited for her to expand her thoughts. He was so quiet, and his gentle nature elicited more trust than she had felt in a long while. But what would be the consequences of admitting her true feelings? She found herself biting her lip. Part of her warned that she should change the subject. But her curiosity at Mr. Harrison’s perceptiveness overruled her lingering anxiety.
“Mr. Harrison, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Of course not.”
“How did you know that Gavin means so much to me?”
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