A sadness settled over his brow. “It will be difficult for her to wear black for so long. And even more difficult to be without her father.”
Grace thought of her own father, similarly detached and distant. She had grown up desperate for his attention, but it had never come. He spent his days shut away in his study. Rarely did he speak more than a brief sentence to her, unless it involved a topic of seriousness. Uncle Cornelius had always felt like more of a father, treating her with love and kindness.
Grace had eventually given up trying to win her own father’s attention, filling the emptiness within her with stories and dreams of one day marrying a man that would be a kind and loving father to their children.
Lord Ramsbury sighed. “She loves our father, despite his avoidance of her for most of her life. I do not understand.” His brow contracted into a serious expression, one Grace was still unaccustomed to seeing.
“Something must fill the empty spaces within us,” Grace said, fixing her eyes on Juliet. “Her father left emptiness within her, and so she has filled it herself. Some allow it to fill with anger, or resentment, or sorrow, but she has filled it with love of her own—the very thing she felt was missing. You can never go wrong filling emptiness and abandonment with love. It strengthens and builds, while other things only destroy.” Grace felt Lord Ramsbury’s gaze on her, and she met his eyes. “What did you fill yours with?”
He looked down at the ground, sliding his boot over the road. “Nothing I am proud of.”
“It is never too late to change.”
He breathed deeply through his nose, crossing his arms as if to keep himself from breaking. “First was my father’s distant nature, then my uncle’s death. I lost sight of all motivation to be good and honorable. I did not treat others as I should have, and I am very sorry you were made to endure that.”
She looked down, twisting her hands together.
“And then…” he paused. “Then I was persuaded to believe I could be loved by a woman that I cared for deeply, only to be deceived. I felt my heart could not tolerate another blow. I filled myself with anger and self-pity.” He shook his head. “I never want to be that man again.”
Grace stared at him, shocked at how wrong her assumptions had been. He had been hurt. His circumstances and misfortunes had sculpted many of his decisions. There was more depth to him than she had ever thought possible. The devil-may-care, debonair, rakish image that she had connected with his name was not completely true. It was another act. A way for him to cope with his losses with assumed dignity.
“Do you still think of her often?” Grace asked, afraid of the answer. “The woman that broke your heart?”
He turned his gaze down to Grace, causing her skin to tingle and her heart to skitter. The blue of his eyes seemed brighter here, magnified by the sunlight around them. “No. She was not the right match for me.”
“No?”
The faintest smile touched his lips. “No.”
Grace felt her own lips curving as she stared into his eyes, a cursed blush tingling on her cheeks. Her entire body flooded with warmth, spiraling up from her toes, spreading through her chest. But shards of ice, brought to life by recent memories of her first ball, stole her smile and the reassurances of her heart. Lord Ramsbury claimed to be different, but what if it was all a lie?
A large stagecoach passed on the road, the jarring sound enough to clear her mind.
“And so I am reminded,” Grace’s posture straightened, her smile disappearing. “You asked that I find a match for you, and I have. Miss Rose Daventry, my sister’s friend. She is a lovely and accomplished young lady. Unlike me, she truly does possess talent on the pianoforte and is fluent in French, and she doesn’t care for reading nonsense. She is very well connected and has a wonderful family. She is with my sister at this very moment if you wish to meet her.” As the words escaped her, Grace felt a gnawing emptiness, and not just her hungry stomach.
Lord Ramsbury studied her face, as if he were trying to decipher something important. She looked down, uncomfortable with his attention. He was probably thinking of how pleased he was with Grace for finding him such a talented and sensible woman. Why did it matter? Grace had already decided that she would never marry him, not if it meant she was only an apparatus for keeping his title.
Grace had often heard Miss Daventry speak of her desire to make a well-established match, not caring whether love had any involvement and Lord Ramsbury only needed a marriage to keep his inheritance. Aside from wealth and possessions, Miss Daventry had also stated that she preferred a handsome man, though she did not require it. Lord Ramsbury was surely that. How much more perfect could it be? The dread that settled in her stomach belied her sentiments.
“Will you meet her?” Grace asked, hoping her voice would break the trance he seemed to be under as he examined her face.
Lord Ramsbury’s lips closed, creating a soft smile that made her heart flip. “I don’t wish to meet her at all.”
“Why not? She is very amiable, and any person who has made her acquaintance will endorse her character. She is well-mannered and polite, and is also—”
He stopped her with a touch to her forearm, making her words stand still. Her skin burned under his touch. “I do not want you to find me a match.”
Grace lifted her chin, her defenses rising with new strength. “Why?”
“I was only teasing when I asked you.”
“But it is no trouble, truly. I will introduce you to Miss Daventry.” She nodded quickly. “We may find her this very moment.”
He let out a sigh of frustration, turning to face her more fully. Juliet had turned away from the window, watching their exchange with piqued interest. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Juliet is eager to rejoin us, my lord,” Grace stammered, stopping the words he was about to say.
He glanced over his shoulder at his sister before looking down at Grace again. She pressed her lips together, staring at his cravat rather than his eyes, a much safer alternative.
“Edward,” he muttered. “Please call me Edward.”
Grace steadied her breathing. “I cannot use your Christian name.”
“We are friends, are we not?”
Grace would have agreed, but she knew it was not normal to have a fervent desire to kiss a mere friend. To wrap her arms around his neck and feel his around her, holding her close, promising he would never forget her—that he would always love her—and having those promises proven somehow. But doubt still lingered in her mind, etched there like engravings on wood.
She raised her eyes to his face, settling on the smile on his lips, the belonging in his eyes. Even if none of it was real, she was too weak to desert it today.
“I suppose,” she said. “At any rate, you did already use my Christian name.”
“I could not help myself.” He chuckled.
Juliet approached with slow steps, as if she were afraid of interrupting an important conversation. Grace wondered what the passersby might be thinking of their position, standing so near to one another with so many quiet words and smiles passing between them. Every moment she spent with him was a risk to her reputation, unless she intended to accept his proposal. Which she didn’t.
Did she?
CHAPTER 12
“M ay we look for shells on the beach?” Juliet asked as she approached them. “We may eat our Shrewsbury cakes there too. Do you suppose the birds will come if we leave pieces in the sand for them?”
Grace stepped away from Edward, bending close to Juliet’s height. “Surely the birds do not like Shrewsbury cakes.”
“How could they not?” Juliet scowled.
“She is simply scheming to have more cakes for herself,” Edward said, his eyes narrowed in accusation.
Juliet’s features flashed with understanding, and a giggle escaped her. Grace laughed, easily infected by Juliet’s joy. She admired the young girl’s strength. It was a rare talent to smile amid adversity, and Juliet was very skilled a
t it.
The trio walked through the market on their way to the nearest side of the beach. It did not take long to reach the ocean from any point in Brighton. They passed an array of strangers, tourists passing through the town that the Prince Regent made so alluring. People that came from outside of Brighton expected to find a town filled with the lavish lifestyles of the prince, but what they found was simply a town flooded with people, and wrought with many strange traditions.
One of the greatest attractions to Brighton was the waters that were rumored to remedy all ailments. One entered the water in a wooden bathing machine, pulled out with ropes by one of the hired ‘dippers.’ They would then be lowered into the sea, and the precious water was expected to draw out impurities and pain. Grace knew it to be false, but there were some that vowed the waters had healed them.
Grace loved the idea of such a fantastical thing, whether she believed it or not. In her imagination she dreamt that the waters held more than a cure. She wished that they held the answers she sought. Was Edward genuine? Or was he simply a ruse? Just like the waters meant to draw people in, only to be disappointed, Grace feared he was drawing her to him, only to break her heart.
Her thoughts remained distant on their walk to the ocean, though she continued to make light conversation with Juliet, who clung to her hand.
They reached the end of the beach nearest to Clemsworth, the place where Grace had seen Lord Ramsbury taunting his sister.
Grace began scavenging for shells among the damp sand, following the lead of Juliet. Seagrass grew in patches around them, waving with the gentle breeze. Juliet crouched close to the water, digging her fingers into the sand.
Edward approached from behind, smiling down at Grace as she searched the ground for shells. She kept her ankles covered, lifting her skirts just enough to avoid getting them soiled. Her hair was coming slowly untethered by the winds as they picked up speed, stirring the ocean up in multi-blue toned peaks. She laughed as Juliet held up a misshapen shell, a gnarled brown one covered in white streaks.
Edward still watched her, his grin growing larger. Her curiosity couldn’t be contained. “What are you staring at?” She squinted against the sun, pushing back a pesky strand of hair that fell on her forehead.
“Nothing.” Edward made an attempt to press down his grin, but it resurfaced.
She straightened her posture, tossing aside the small conical shell she had just collected. “I have become well acquainted with that smile of yours. I know what it means.”
“Now I am curious. What do you think it means?”
“It means you are amused. Am I correct?”
He laughed. “Partially.”
She pushed back a chunk of dark hair that had blown in her eyes. “And what am I missing?”
He stepped over the shell she had dropped, his closeness catching her by surprise. He touched her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The warmth of his fingers matched the warmth in his eyes, a blue that matched the ocean behind him.
“You are missing a very important detail. It means I find you amusing, yes, but it also means I find you enchanting.”
Her heart leapt in her chest, and her cheeks flooded with heat. She stepped away, swallowing hard. “I thought we agreed that you were not allowed to flirt.”
He chuckled. “Once again, I’m afraid, I could not help myself. You are begging to be flirted with.” He touched her face again, sending a string of tingles over her neck. “And the color of your cheeks signify that my efforts are not in vain.” The teasing in his voice stung deep in Grace’s chest, reminding her that this was merely a game.
“Please. I want to hear no more of it. We reached an agreement.”
“I promise I will not flirt with any other woman as long as I live. Only you.” His hair had become mussed with the wind, falling over his forehead.
The teasing note still hung in his voice. She couldn’t trust that he would only flirt with her. He found far too much pleasure in being a shameless flirt.
Grace took a step backward, creating a much-needed distance between them. He chuckled, apparently still amused by her efforts to avoid him. She crossed the beach, pretending to search for shells among the sand. Edward followed close behind her, making her palms sweat and her legs shake.
She was close—too close to surrendering. Without a doubt he intended to push the subject further, so she turned around with her hands planted on her hips, prepared to offer a diatribe that would erase the smile on his face.
When she faced him, however, he extended his hand, three small shells in his palm. She scowled in confusion.
“We must not be distracted,” he said with urgency. “Juliet has already gathered at least ten shells and she simply cannot win.”
Juliet’s head whipped in his direction. She giggled, his challenge leading her to scour the sand faster. Grace turned her gaze back to Edward, who gave her a soft smile before bending down to dig through the sand.
Taking a moment to gather herself, Grace joined the hunt, laughing as she placed shell after shell in her hands until she could hold no more. A large shell protruded from the sand near a rock, shining like a piece of buried treasure. Edward spotted it at the same moment Grace did, racing across the sand to claim it. She was closer, and managed to snatch it up before he reached it.
“Ha!” she said, clamping it between her hands. “The largest shell is mine.”
“I did see it first.”
“You did not!”
Edward laughed, tossing his handful of shells on the sand beside him. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Give it to me.”
Grace hurried across the sand, moving away from him. What the devil did he plan to do?
“Steal it from her, Edward!” Juliet called with a giggle. Grace gasped. She was beginning to question her original positive opinion of the girl.
“You will do no such thing.” Grace lifted a finger, warning him with a look.
The grin on his face resembled the one she had seen him give Juliet when his hands had been filled with wet sand. Now his hands were empty, prepared to wrestle a meaningless shell from her.
He took two more steps toward her, and Grace’s resolve fled. With a shriek, she flung the shell across the beach. It landed in front of Juliet, who scooped it up with a look of triumph. Edward burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking. Grace laughed too, covering one half of her face with her palm. By the time her laughter subsided, her stomach ached.
“You are a wicked man.” Grace scowled, the effort half-hearted.
He sighed, a grin still pulling at his mouth. “And so the insults return.”
“I am sorry, but you are begging to be insulted.” Throwing him an apologetic look, she bit her lower lip.
His eyes settled on her mouth. “And you are begging to be kissed.”
Her heart thumped so hard she was afraid he could hear it. She had the urge to run again, just as she had when he had tried to steal the shell. To share a kiss here beside the ocean would be more romantic than anything she had ever read in a book. It would also be more dangerous. Smugglers and spies and highwaymen robberies could not compare to the harm a kiss from Lord Ramsbury would inflict. But he was there, close enough to touch, to smell, to feel. Her skin burned with longing, but self discipline had always been one of her strongest virtues.
“And so the flirting returns,” Grace said, her voice more weak than she intended. Stepping away from him took great effort, but she did it. She expected to feel strong, but the distance between them only made her feel weaker.
Juliet sat on the sand counting her shells. How improper it would have been to kiss Edward with her so near. How improper it would have been to kiss him at all, especially out in the open air where they could easily be seen. She scolded herself for even entertaining the thought. The ocean breeze helped to cool her cheeks enough to face Edward again. “I must return home.”
He drew a deep breath. “We will walk with you.”
“No,
I would prefer to walk alone.”
His eyes roamed her face. “If you are certain.”
“I am.” She threw him a smile, but the burning within her made it difficult. “Good day,” she said, turning around.
She only made it two steps before she heard his voice again.
“Wait.”
Her feet stopped but she didn’t turn around. Her heart pounded as she listened to his footsteps on the sand behind her. He touched her elbow.
She prepared a list of excuses in her mind, reasons she could not stay any longer before turning to face him.
“You cannot leave without this.”
She looked down at his hand, where he held a thick Shrewsbury cake, half wrapped in brown paper, flecked with lemon shavings and dried berries. Even in the open air, the sweet scent wafted up to her nostrils, filling her with warmth.
She smiled, taking the cake from his hand. “You did say I could have multiple.”
He laughed, shaking his head in amusement as he returned to the box on the sand, withdrawing two more. She pressed her lips together expectantly as he wrapped them up and handed them over.
“Thank you,” she said in a resolute voice, lifting her pile of cakes to her nose to inhale the warm aroma.
He tipped his head down as he laughed. “You are quite welcome.” He glanced at her from under his lashes, a look she was sure had served to steal many hearts without assistance. “It is the only reason you came, after all. Is it not?”
She was sure he wanted her to deny it, so it came naturally to give him the opposite. “You are right. For what other reason would I willingly spend the afternoon with you?” She hoped her smile would soften her words as she walked away.
His laugh followed her all the way to the edge of the beach, where she stepped onto the cobblestones. She savored the sound, inviting a stirring into her heart, a radiating warmth that would not leave her as she walked toward home. She told herself over and over as she walked, that his every word and action were false, but it did little to stop the feelings within her. Two words challenged it all. What if.
Romancing Lord Ramsbury: A Regency Romance (Brides of Brighton Book 3) Page 14