AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I wanted to spend some time with my friend,” she said, choosing to leave out her other reasons. Like how she was finding it harder and harder to deny the strong pull she felt toward him. Like how her hope was growing to the point where it might crush her. Like how she was beginning to feel nearly desperate to know if he would ever see her as more than just a friend.
Lord Brown proved correct in assuming that the other young people would care to join them, as would his mother. When they heard that Lady Brown would be going out, Lord and Lady Honeyfield chose to also join. In the end, they were to make a nice even company of five couples. With that all set, everyone hurried to their rooms to ready themselves. Grace changed as quickly as she could, donning her warmest everything—warmest under clothing, warmest dress, warmest pelisse—as well as a thick muff and bonnet trimmed with fur.
When she stepped out of doors, three elegant sleighs were lined up before her. The horses stamped impatiently, two, then three of them tossing their heads. Grace exhaled at the beauty of the snow-dusted trees around her, and her breath came out as a small cloud, billowing about her cheeks.
Winter truly was a beautiful time of year.
Lord Weston stepped up beside her, his hand going to the small of her back. His touch was like brushing up against a warming block. Perhaps she ought not have troubled herself with dressing quite so warmly. If Lord Weston continued to affect her so, she wouldn’t need the extra layers.
“The first two sleighs,” he said, his low voice only making her heart race more, “each carry four individuals. But I thought we should claim the last sleigh before anyone else does.”
The last of the three sleighs was smaller, appearing only big enough for two and a driver.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” Lord Weston asked, his tone sounding a touch less confident.
Grace couldn’t help but smile. “I think that last sleigh is lovely.” And not only because it would guarantee some time for just the two of them. The small sleigh was decked out with straps of silver bells, and draped atop the bench seat was a warm-looking, vibrant red blanket.
Lord Weston led her over to the open-top sleigh and held the door as she climbed in. Grace picked up the blanket as she sat and found a heated brick already down by her feet. Lord Weston settled beside her, and Grace fluffed the blanket out and over their laps. There was something intensely intimate about sharing a blanket. Though they sat close, they weren’t touching. And yet, the blanket seemed a sort of connection all the same, a link that drew them in toward one another regardless of the space between them.
Soon, the rest of the party had gathered and were settled in the first two sleighs. If anyone was annoyed or pleased that Grace and Lord Weston had commandeered the last, small sleigh for themselves, Grace couldn’t tell. She was having too hard a time focusing on anything other than the man beside her and how desperately she wished she could remove her pelisse without looking like an addlepated fool.
With a few calls to the horses, first one then the second sleigh started off. Hers and Lord Weston’s sleigh started with a small jump, pushing them both back in their seat and somehow managing to drive them closer to one another. Though that could have been Grace’s imagination. Or perhaps she wasn’t the only one feeling the pull?
Good heavens, she was going to burn up beneath this blanket. Yet she didn’t want to pull it off either.
Lord Weston said something, but the sound of the jingling bells drowned out his words.
“What was that?” Grace asked.
Lord Weston leaned in close, his mouth just above her ear. “I said its beautiful, isn’t it?” His warm breath was not helping her avoid overheating.
Still, she leaned in toward him all the same. There were, after all, worse ways to die. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
They rode for a minute or two in silence, both drinking in the white elegance around them. More still, drinking in the feel of being together. At least, Grace hoped she wasn’t the only one doing as much. If Lord Weston had been a man nearer her own station, she would certainly believe he fancied her. She could no longer deny that he sought her out, that he was relaxed and at ease around her in a way he wasn’t with others. She’d thought herself conceited when she first comprehended such a thing, but she’d experienced too many interactions which validated the idea for her to question it now.
And yet...he was an earl and she the daughter of a gentleman of no title. That he would ever take notice of her was most unexpected. He certainly hadn’t earlier that year, during the London Season. But she had learned over these several weeks that he wasn’t comfortable among society. It was possible that her connection to his sister made Lord Weston feel, when he first arrived at Bridgecross Manor, as though he could relax a bit around her. It was rather a blessed surprise that they found in one another someone whose company they enjoyed so immensely.
“It’s a shame Frances isn’t here with us now,” Grace said. “I know she is partial to riding through the snow.”
Lord Weston tensed beside her.
Odd, that. They hadn’t spoken often of Lady Frances, but the few times they had, she’d gotten the impression brother and sister were on well enough terms.
“Actually,” Lord Weston said, drawing the single word out longer than usual. He shifted about until his hand rested atop her forearm, a few of his fingers finding their way inside her muff. It wasn’t exactly a scandalous touch, but her heart reacted as though it were. “I want to speak to you about Frances.”
Grace turned slightly, angling toward him so that it was easier to hear his words. Though it was for purely practical purposes, she didn’t miss that it was perfectly easy to slide in and rest against his shoulder, that she and Lord Weston fit together most deliciously.
“Earlier today,” he began, “you called us friends. Did you mean it?”
