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“Oh, what a shame,” Lady Brown said, giving Grace’s arm a gentle pat.
“You can’t slip out before dinner.” Somehow, Lady Katherine had managed to spot Grace and intercept her. “We are only now finally an even number. If you were to miss dinner tonight, we will be uneven still.”
Grace didn’t turn to look at the woman. Instead, she chose to close her eyes momentarily and take a deep breath.
“I find it terribly inconsiderate,” Lady Frances’s voice reached Grace next, “for a lady tocry offwhen doing so would clearly make everyone else uncomfortable.”
“Indeed, quite inconsiderate,” Lady Katherine agreed.
Grace was too tired and far too confused to deal with this right now. She could not fathom how Lady Frances had gone from the light-hearted, supportive friend of her letters to this petty and manipulative woman before her now in only a few weeks’ time. It made no sense.
“Come now, ladies,” Lady Brown said, her voice clearly trying to placate. “If Miss Stewart says she is unsuited to dining with us tonight, we ought to extend her some grace. No doubt she shall join us again tomorrow.” Lady Brown turned toward Grace. “I will instruct a maid to bring you a tray in your room.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Grace curtsied, but then left without so much as a parting word to either Lady Katherine or Lady Frances.
The house was dark, the winter sun having set over an hour ago. Candles in sconces lined the stairway but cast off only small puddles of yellow light, none stretching far enough to blend into the next. Grace moved from one bubble of light to the next, careful not to trip on her way up. The house was colder in the passageways and corridors as well. She would do well to remember a shawl next time she left her room.
And yet, it wasn’t only the temperature of the air that sent a chill through her.
The confusion of the day rested against her, weighing her down. Grace was no longer agitated by uncertainty; she’d been clearly pushed out of the way and shoved aside enough today to feel only cold bewilderment. The corridor which led to all the guest bedchambers stretched out before Grace. At the end was a tall, narrow window. She passed her own door and moved toward it.
White snowflakes slowly drifted down, covering up the tracks made earlier by the sleighs.
Her mind flitted back to the moments before Lady Frances’s arrival. Back to when she’d sat beside Lord Weston. Back to when he’d almost kissed her.
How filled with elation she’d been in that moment.
How horribly different she felt now.
“Grace.” Lord Weston’s deep voice sounded behind her.
She spun to find him standing only a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back. She couldn’t make out of much his expression, but he seemed apprehensive. Much as he had looked when he’d first entered the parlor with Lady Frances at his side.
Grace lifted her chin. Far from being pleased to see him, she was angry.
Inwardly, she knew his sister’s actions were not his fault, and he had tried to stand up for her repeatedly throughout the day. But it had only seemed to urge Lady Frances and Lady Katherine on. How could he make her feel so wanted one minute, and then not even tell her that his sister was coming? How could he not tell her that his sister had never meant any of the nice things she’d said in her letters? How could he have not warned her of Lady Frances’s vitriol?
“I have not given you permission to use my Christian name, my lord.” Grace’s words came out tight.
He ran a hand down his face. “No. Forgive me.”
They stood before the window, cold air wafting down over them.
“I need to explain,” Lord Weston said at length.
Then somethinghadhappened. “I have been wondering what would have changed Lady Frances’s opinion of me so decidedly.”
He tipped his head, first one direction then the other. “It is rather more complicated than that.”
Tears pricked Grace’s eyes. “Were all her letters nothing but lies, then? A game, in her mind?” A plan to lead on the poor young woman from the country, the one with no claim to status or wealth. Is that all this was?
“It is true,” he said softly, “that my sister places far too much importance on titles and standing among society.”
Grace turned away from him, humiliation burning against her face. “If she didn’t care to associate with me, she didn’t have to write back.” Her words dropped as she muttered to herself. “No one else did.”
Lord Weston took two steps closer to her. Even in the dark, she could see the swirls in the silk of his waistcoat and the muted glint of moonlight on his buttons.
“What do you mean, no one else did?” he asked.
