AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Five
Ezrasippedathissoup, but his gaze hardly left Grace as he did. This was the third dinner they’d all enjoyed at Bridgecross Manor, and the third time he’d failed to find a seat next to her. The first night, he’d been speaking with Lady Augusta and her parents when dinner had been announced and so had walked in with them. To do otherwise would have appeared rude, or so he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that merely thinking of walking across the room, striking up a conversation with Grace, and then asking if she might walk in with him sent his heart skittering about his chest in a very painful way. After all, he hated to appear too forward, too overbearing. Grace was still unaware thathe’dbeen writing her these past many months. She must have enjoyed his letters, or she would not have written back such personal replies each time. If only he could get her to see some of that same friendship she’d found in their correspondence, perhaps she wouldn’t curse him to Hades when he finally told her the truth.
Gads, but he hoped she wouldn’t. He’d do anything for a chance at a permanent place in Grace Stewart’s life.
Both last night and again tonight, Lady Katherine had been too close for him to extricate himself from her company when dinner had been called. At least in the past he’d been able to find a seat close enough to Grace to listen in on her soft voice. Tonight, she was halfway down the table. He could see her smiling at Lord Brown, but that was all. And it hardly put his mind at ease.
“Excellent potato soup, is it not?” asked Lord Andrews, a baron of about Ezra’s same age.
“Quite good,” Ezra said, giving the man no more than a cursory glance.
Lord Andrews chuckled, putting his spoon down and pushing his empty bowl away slightly. “The soup is white, my lord, not potato, and you are clearly besotted.”
Ezra dropped his gaze to the bowl before him. White soup, just as Lord Andrews had said. Not a lump of potato anywhere.
Lord Andrews slapped him on the back. “Never fear. There’s nothing wrong with being enchanted by a pair of fine eyes. Heaven knows it happens to all us blundering mortal men now and again.”
Ezra placed his spoon down. “Perhaps, but I was rather hoping not to make a fool of myself over it.” Let Lord Andrews think this was only a moment of bewitchment, one that would likely pass once the Christmas holiday was over. The man need never know Ezra was wholeheartedly lost to Grace or that he was convinced no amount of time passing would ever prove enough to make him forget her.
“Then stop looking her direction.”
Ezra nodded. He was going about this all wrong. He knew he was. If only he could speak with her. But such an opportunity had only availed itself twice in the past three days. Yesterday, they’d toured the house together. While he enjoyed the few minutes they’d shared in the beginning, once Lady Katherine had caught sight of him walking beside Grace, she’d latched onto him and hadn’t allowed him a moment of rest. Earlier today, he’d come across her as she’d been leaving the library with two books hugged close to herself.
They’d spoken of their mutual love of Byron. She’d even made him laugh as she’d described her father’s reaction the first time he’d picked up a book of his poems. The way she imitated his face scrunching up, half in confusion, half in revulsion...it had been a perfect moment.
Until Lord Brown had rounded the corner and ruined everything.
“You know,” Lord Andrews said, leaning toward him and keeping his voice low enough that only Ezra would hear even as a manservant took away their soup. “I have noticed that Lady Katherine often enjoys sleeping in late, as does Lord Brown. Miss Stewart, on the other hand, is usually one of the first to breakfast.”
“Is that so?” Ezra felt suddenly more hopeful than he had all day.
“Just an observation.” Lord Andrews picked up his fork, eying the plate of food that had just been placed before him.
Ezra picked up his own fork as well, but he didn’t particularly care what was on his plate. His gaze flitted back to Grace, who was smiling brightly at Lord Brown, veritably hanging on his every word.
“Thank you,” Ezra said at length.
Lord Andrews shrugged. “We all could use a little help from our fellow men at times such as these.”
“Indeed.” He probably needed more help than most, especially considering the letters he’d written—a mess of his own creation.
Waiting for the right opportunity to speak with her and further his own case clearly wasn’t going to be enough. He would do as Lord Andrews had hinted and also be one of the first to breakfast in the morning. Perhaps then, he would be able to arrange some other time for them to be together. This may be Lord Brown’s home, and the viscount certainly claimed far more charm than Ezra ever would, but Ezra wasn’t about to throw his hands up in defeat.
Lord Brown led the men into the drawing room only five minutes after the ladies had left the dining room. The party’s host immediately found his way to Grace and sat beside her on the settee. If that wasn’t yet more evidence that he was forming designs on her, Grace wasn’t sure what was. Unless, of course, one considered the way Lady Katherine looked daggers her direction when he did so. Grace knew she should feel no superior pride that Lord Brown was clearly seeking her out over the company of all others. And yet, wicked or no, she absolutely did. A tinge of self-assurance slipped through her, and she straightened her shoulders as she turned to Lord Brown.
“Did you enjoy the books you found in my library?” he asked her.
“Yes, I certainly did. It has been ever so long since I was able to read some new poems from Byron.”
“He is rather bombastic, isn’t he?”
Grace only stopped her scowl in time, smoothing it away before it could be noticed. “I would not say bombastic, exactly.”
Lord Brown waved her comment away. “Regardless, I am happy you found something to your liking.”
Lord Weston walked into the drawing room at that moment. Grace’s gaze moved to him immediately, as did his to her. For a moment, she knew an intense desire to call him over to her. He of all people—she knew from their conversation earlier that morning—would stand by her in her defense of Byron. Did Lord Weston also love Shakespeare as much as she did? Grace very much wished to know.
And yet...she stopped herself. Yelling across the whole of the drawing room was surely uncouth. She didn’t need to remind all the guests, Lord Brown especially, that she’d been raised without the fine polishing all the other ladies present had been blessed with.
