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This angered Natalie, and she caught Grace’s sleeve. In the struggle to free herself, Grace knocked down another piece from the table, and the tray holding her cup of milk followed. The cup broke and milk pooled on the floor, while the wooden box with paint that was yet to dry stained the floor.
This was the most Grace had lost in her sister’s hands but she also held herself responsible because she could have sent Natalie away before this occurred.
“What is going on there?” came their aunt, Ranora Jameson’s voice. “Grace?”
Natalie grinned, then called, “Grace ruined the floor!”
“That is not true, Aunt Ranora!” Grace denied it as their aunt appeared in the doorway. This entire situation was ridiculous, but Grace knew she would not win even before her aunt spoke.
“What did you do to your sister, Grace?” Ranora asked. She was a tall, slender, and straight-laced woman who never saw any wrong that Natalie did.
Natalie spoke before Grace could. “I brought her some milk, and she threw it down.”
“Grace, how could you?” Ranora reprimanded as Natalie moved to stand beside her. “You are coming downstairs with me to explain this to your father.”
“Explain what to me?” their father, William Patterson, asked as he appeared behind Ranora.
“Your daughters are fighting again, and it is Grace’s fault,” Ranora told him.
His green eyes moved from Grace’s face to Natalie’s before he said, “Have this place cleaned. Grace, follow me.” He turned and walked down the hall.
She could hear Natalie giggling behind her as she left the room, following her father down the stairs and to his study. He held the door open for her and closed it behind him when he walked in after her.
“What happened?” he asked, going to sit behind his large oak desk. Grace told him everything that had occurred, including their argument about their inability to find husbands.
William sighed and motioned for her to sit. She did, and he leaned forward with his arms on his desk, linking his fingers. “I am aware of your sister’s unfair treatment of you, and so I have spoken many times to her about it.”
“But she never listens,” Grace finished for him. Natalie believed their father did not love her, and their aunt agreed with her.
“I want you to be a little more patient with her. I am hoping she marries this season—” he paused and watched Grace for a moment. “I want you to marry this season, too.”
“What if I do not find a husband, Papa?”
“I will do all I can to help you find one.”
Grace nervously sucked in her lips. She was slowly losing hope of marrying because she still thought of the kiss she had shared with that scoundrel two years ago. She wanted a man who would please her, and she doubted a gentleman was as versed in the art of pleasure as that scoundrel. He might not truly be a scoundrel but it was what she had always thought of him as.
Grace had not seen him again after she left him in the sitting room, and the following day, her family had traveled to London to participate in the social season. She often wondered if he remembered her.
“Papa,” she said slowly, studying her father’s expression.
“Yes?” His dark brows rose.
“What if I no longer have the desire to marry?” She toyed with a loose thread of her dress as she spoke because she knew he would not be pleased by the question. Marrying well was all he had ever wanted for her and her sister.
“I will need you to elaborate, Grace,” he said.
“You have seen the ornaments I craft, and many buy them for good sums. I could be independent and live off my craft.”
William held out his hand to her from across the desk and she took it. “Everything I do is so you do not have to work for a living, Grace. I know that my businesses have not been doing very well for the past year but I am seeking an investor. We have a good house, and you and Natalie have decent dowries. I want you under a respectable gentleman’s care, and women in society do not trade.”
Grace did not agree with him but out of consideration for her father, she decided not to argue. Meanwhile, she would continue crafting and selling ornaments at Mr. Gardener’s shop. No one knew the ornaments were made by a woman, and after every sale, Mr. Gardener sent her share to her, which was seventy percent. She could keep everything if she had her own shop but her father would never allow it.
“We have an invitation to a ball and I have several gentlemen in mind that I would like to introduce you to,” he said. “Promise me you will accept their courtship.”
“You know I cannot make you that promise, Papa,” she protested.
“I am sure you will find a gentleman that suits your requirements out of the seven I will introduce you to.”
