Page 22 of The Mistletoe Countess
“I know enough to tell what is right and wrong.” Grace stood, bringing the paper with her. “You should never have brought Lord Astley into this…this sleeping arrangement.” She waved the paper toward her. “Mr. Dixon didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
Lillias rose from the bed, eyes narrowed. “Of course not!”
“Then you’ve already made your choice, Lillias.” The truth knifed deeper. “You must let Lord Astley and his title go.”
“You’re such a child. You can’t understand.” She rolled her gaze away from Grace and walked toward the window, running her trembling fingers over her forehead. “There is no other way.”
“There has to be another way.”
Lillias sat down on the bed, diverting her gaze away, her fingers slipping over a document with signatures. “If Father breaks the contract, he forfeits a substantial amount of money, funds that are currently made up of stocks and such. Father could lose everything.” Her gaze shot back to Grace’s. “Then…then it will impact Father’s name all over the business world, which, in finance, would be detrimental.”
Grace didn’t fully understand, but she certainly believed in honor and keeping promises. Lillias had forfeited both. “So Father must keep his promise.”
“Without a doubt.”
Grace took the papers from Lillias’s hands and skimmed over them. The sum of money nearly took Grace’s breath. She’d never been involved in much of the financial discussions of home, but she enjoyed helping her father come up with innovative ideas. He always asked her opinion about things such as automobile style or where to build a new factory or how to beautify their garden. Creativity inspired her. Money? Not so much.
But there had to be another option.
Grace stilled. Option? She read over the agreement again and halted on a sentence. “Lillias?” She reread the words:A daughter of Henry T. Ferguson will marry Lord Frederick D. Astley.“It doesn’t mention your name.”
“What does it matter?” Lillias groaned into her palm. “Everyone knows the intention.”
One of the Illustrious Ferguson Daughters…
Grace stared at her sister, an idea swirling from the fog. Worry lines creased Lillias’s porcelain brow, her pale eyes watery. Grace’s gaze dropped to Lillias’s middle. A baby. Her niece or nephew.
Grace wouldn’t condone Lillias’s behavior. Her “perfect” sister had the potential to ruin several people’s lives in one fell swoop. Their father’s reputation? Lord Astley’s financial needs? Anthony Dixon’s heart? Her own happiness?
One decision could fix everything. One choice.
Grace pushed herself to a stand. The words squeezed through her throat. “I’ll do it.”
“What?” Her sister growled, rubbing her forehead and sparing a weary glance in Grace’s general direction. “Grace, the truth will only cause bigger problems in this situa—”
“I’ll marry Lord Astley.”
Lillias froze and then slowly dropped both hands from her face, eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”
“It’s either that, or I tell everyone the truth.” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “I can’t condone this lie, Lillias, not even for you. Perhaps especially not for you. I love you more than that. If you disappear, someone will have to take your place, and since the agreement doesn’t stipulate a name—”
“You…you would take my place?”
Grace’s knees began to tremble, but she continued as the plan became clearer, the conviction deepening. “Neither your Mr. Dixon nor Lord Astley deserve a future built on deception. Our father’s name will remain trustworthy. Lord Astley will receive his money, and I”—where, oh where, was that silver lining?—“I will get a real-life adventure.”
Though marriage wasn’t how she’d envisioned her adventures. Captured by pirates? Maybe. Dazzling the world with her renowned wit as she toured Italy? Perhaps. But giving up her freedom to rescue her sister’s heart? Never. Grace pinched her eyes shut, closing off the dreams she’d had for the future. She’d just forfeited her expectations and taken on a role she’d never planned to play, so now…now she had to see it through.
God, help me.
“But…but you’re…you…” Lillias stared, eyes widening.
Lord, change these circumstances before I make a mistake. I cannot turn back now.
Grace stood a little taller, pulling from a confidence she didn’t feel. “And I’ll have to be enough.”
Grace tried to keep her breath steady as everyone sat in the grand dining hall for dinner, all surrounded by the Christmas beauties of Whitlock, but her mind refused to settle. Mr. Whitlock had spoken with her earlier in the day to share their lack of evidence in the saddle-slicing incident, and it took every ounce of Grace’s self-control to keep the truth lodged deep—though she did attempt to soften the accusations a little.
She’d fought against melancholy with all her might, even pulled out some of Oscar Wilde’s more humorous plays for medicinal purposes, but her heart ached with the sinking reality of what she’d given up and… what she’d chosen.
