Page 42 of Discovering Grace

As much as he had attempted to delude himself, entertaining the idea of courting Hope, Jacob easily recognized his folly now. Hope, though one of his dearest friends, could never be content with the life of a country vicar. She longed to see the world, to never be still, and she tended to act without thinking. He admired her fine spirit, and always would, but they would make each other miserable as husband and wife with their disparate ways.

He urged the horse into a longer, smoother gait, enjoying the summer air.

Grace, thoughtful and kind, aware of the people around her, and content in the familiar, would be an excellent wife. They were two of a kind, really. Often, Jacob had shared a look with Grace and instantly knew her thoughts were his own. He had attributed that strange phenomenon to their many years of friendship. How had he not seen how perfect they were for each other?

Jacob arrived at the Refuge and could not help grinning when he saw the pony and dogcart waiting for its mistress, a groom standing by. He dismounted and took the reins in hand.

“Is Miss Everly going on a visit?” he asked the servant.

“Yes, sir,” the young man answered. “After she shows t’other gentleman the apple trees.”

The other gentleman? Arching his eyebrows, Jacob tied his horse to the post near the front door. Who could possibly want to see the orchard? At least they would be easy to find. He took the path around the house, skirting the gardens. He came to the hedge, the orchard in sight, and heard Grace’s laugh.

“I am in earnest, Miss Everly,” an unfamiliar voice proclaimed, sounding anything but earnest. Jacob paused, the hedge keeping him out of sight. “You would far prefer London if you knew it as I did. I should love to see you try and convince a room full of peers to play games in the park.”

Grace laughed again. “I cannot imagine it should end well, for me or the peers, if I were to make such a suggestion. You were fortunate to be part of that afternoon, Mr. King. To have grown men and women cheerfully playing those games is a rare sight, even in our quaint little neighborhood.”

Of all the people he had thought of taking a stroll with Grace, Mr. King’s name had not been one of them. Since he was friends with Isaac, and had fought in the war, Jacob had not stopped to consider the gentleman much beyond their initial introduction, except when irritated with him for flirting with Grace during her picnic.

They would come upon him eavesdropping in another moment. Jacob took the final steps around the hedge and raised his hand in greeting. “Miss Everly, Mr. King. Good day to you both.”

Grace, on Mr. King’s arm, drew up short and turned pale, no greeting passing her lips. Mr. King grinned hugely, however.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes, good day. We just took a turn about the orchard. Beautiful trees. I begin to wonder why my family never planted fruit trees. We have too many patches of vegetables.” He sighed and lowered his head with an unnecessarily dramatic air.

Grace’s color returned and she regarded Mr. King with a raised eyebrow. “We grow those too, Mr. King. Having one does not necessitate doing away with the other.”

Mr. King, with his dark good looks and easy charm, regarded Grace with an overly familiar fondness. “I thank you for the education, Miss Everly. As you have another guest, I will take myself off and call upon you again another day. Perhaps you might show me the vegetables next time.” He released her arm and bowed. “I shall say farewell to you both.”

“Good day to you, Mr. King.” Grace curtsied politely. She kept her gaze pointedly away from Jacob.

“Yes, good day.” Jacob had to remind himself not to glare as the man took his leave. Grace stared after Mr. King, until he disappeared around the hedge. Then she dipped her head, not meeting Jacob’s gaze.

“Jacob, what brings you here today?”

Had he bungled everything between them that terribly? At least he knew where he must begin. “I have come to apologize to you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and then bent, enough to glimpse beneath her bonnet’s brim. “I did not behave well at your picnic.”

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. “Let us not speak of it, Jacob. I would rather we both forget about the whole thing.”

“Forget?” He repeated the word stupidly. How could she wish to forget the moment that had made him rethink everything? Change everything? “Grace, you must at least let me explain.”

She turned from him, folding her arms across her middle. “I would rather not hear another word about it. There is nothing to forgive because nothing happened. You see? Now we can go on as we always have.”

That was the last thing he wanted. To contradict her might be impolite, but after all the time he spent preparing his speech, he could not remain silent. “You don’t understand, Grace. I need you to know—”

“I received a letter from Hope.” The words tumbled from her mouth, cutting off his attempts at an explanation. “She has left England. The letter says as much, that she would leave it with a servant to post after they boarded ship. Hope is gone.” She shuddered and her arms tightened still more.

The news did not disturb Jacob. Not in the least. He did not feel sick, nor did he experience the horrible clenching in his gut as he had when he first learned Hope might leave. Love was not meant to be that fleeting and changeable. His own response to Grace’s news served as evidence that he had come to his senses about Hope at last. She was not the woman for him, and he had never truly been in love with her.

But the news disturbed Grace. As her friend, first and foremost, he must do what he could to comfort her. “I see. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to speak to you, to ask your opinion.” She shrugged and opened her arms, then untied the reticule at her wrist. “She does not say much.” Grace withdrew a folded paper—the letter from her sister. “But she is well, and happy. Would you like to read it?” Grace thrust the letter toward him with nearly as much vigor as she had thrust him away from her the day of the picnic.

Jacob looked from the letter to Grace’s clear blue eyes, noting the way she stared at him when she had avoided looking at him moments before. She was searching him, a slight tremble to her lips as she pressed them together.

He slowly shook his head. “I don’t need to read it, Grace. I’m glad that Hope is well.” He steadied himself and relaxed his stance, hardly realizing how stiff he had become in his urgency to speak with her. As the tension left him, he managed to curve his lips upward again. “Would you like to take a walk to talk things over?”

The line appeared at the top of Grace’s nose, her lips fell open again in that look of surprise he had seen when he came upon her and Mr. King. “A walk?”