“I do not think that is it at all, my dear.”
“You think she is heartsick for Carew?”
“I suspect that is very much the case. Even I knew she was taken with him during her first Season. Who would not be? Even at my age, a roguish look from those blue eyes makes my heart palpitate,” spoken with wry amusement.
“She did mention having feelings for him.” Grace could hear the dismay in Patience’s voice. “But I saw no signs of an attachment while we were there. I thought they parted amicably.”
“My dear, I am not sure you see anything besides dear Ashley at the moment.”
“Perhaps so.” Patience sounded amused. “But why did she not say anything?”
“Perhaps she did not wish to put a damper on your own happiness. And with Carew’s sister present…it is not Grace’s way.”
Grace hated that they were speaking of her heartache so openly, but if no one besides Maeve had seen an attachment on Carew’s part, then it must have been a figment of her imagination. Had Carew kissed her out of pity?
The thought made her cheeks burn with shame. He had been kind to her, yes, but he had made no promises. He had not played the rogue. He had simply…been. Even so, he had no intention of offering for her. It was time to put him out of her mind.
“Since a scandal has been averted, Westwood does not wish for the attachment. Of course, he knows Carew better than anyone and he thinks Grace would do better with someone more suited to her,” the Dowager continued.
Grace wondered how well anyone actually knew her at all. Carew was the only one who had ever turned her head, and the thought of facing a third Season of looking for a match was enough to send her spirits plummeting further into the abyss. She might as well tell Westwood to arrange something for herand save herself the trouble, though spinsterhood was looking more and more appealing by the moment. She was now an aunt, and could be as doting and as eccentric as she liked.
“Sometimes I think Grace is the most innocent of us all,” Patience remarked.
“Where Carew is the most experienced? I do not know, my dear, but Grace sees something in him and it should be her decision.”
“Perhaps,” Patience said again, sounding hesitant.
“Now come, Patience. Just because she is not as outspoken as you does not mean she is not entitled to her own opinions and choices.”
“You are right, of course, but is it wrong for me to want to protect her?”
Grace’s heart squeezed. She felt the same about her sisters.
“I fear it may be too late for that, but perhaps you can see to helping her find her way through this maze.” The Dowager’s wisdom was much needed, Grace mused, although she hated to hear herself discussed so. Nonetheless, she knew they were worried for her.
“Should we send for Faith and Hope? Maybe having everyone together would buoy her spirits.”
“I have spoken to her. Let us see if she rallies.”
Her family meant well, but there was much they did not understand. Yet she could not bring herself to tell them all that had happened. Perhaps it was for the best to keep it to herself since it meant so little to Carew. However, the experience had changed her, for better or worse.
Grace turned and walked quietly back to her room, where Theo was bathing himself in the sunlight on the chair by the window. Stretched out on his back with his paws covering his face, it was hard not to smile at the creature. She stroked his soft fur, and his purrs began immediately without even openinghis eyes. To be able to love and trust so unconditionally…that settled it. She would replace Carew in her heart with a dozen cats. Would that be enough?
It had beenfour weeks and one day since they had left. Ronan could not help but count the days. He’d spent all day and half of every night working with the horses. There was a soothing simplicity to their needs. A horse did not obscure its intentions behind a veil of civility or pretence. Though their wills could be a battle, he welcomed the challenge. His thoughts could not waver when breaking a horse, and so it was his chosen remedy. Exhaustion was the best remedy for a broken heart. When he worked until his muscles burned and his head ached from the sun, there was little energy left for thoughts of Grace Whitford. His mind had not yet learned to control his dreams, however. Eventually, he’d hear of Grace’s betrothal to some worthy gentleman, and then he’d suffer anew. It was no less than he deserved as penance for his sins.
“Are you finished for now, me lord?” Paddy, the stable hand, approached and took the reins of the gelding Ronan had been working with. The boy jerked his head towards the paddock fence, where Ronan’s mother stood watching him, her face shadowed with concern.
Ronan sighed, removed his hat, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Mother,” he greeted her as he approached. “What brings you out here?”
“It is the only way to have a word with you these days,” she replied, her tone carrying a note of reproach.
“Is something amiss? Has something happened to Father?” Ronan asked, straightening instinctively.
“Your father is quite well, actually,” she said, and Ronan noted a hint of satisfaction in her tone. Even the stable hands had spoken of his lordship leaving his chambers regularly, a marked improvement from his previous seclusion.
“I have received a letter from England,” she continued, holding out an envelope. “I thought you might wish to read it.”
Ronan eyed the letter warily. “A summary from you will do just as well.”
