Page 28 of The Mistletoe Countess
Blake narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, the suspicion knocking like an unfinished story in the back of Frederick’s mind.
“And your mother has no idea of ever writing a letter to request you return home? No wonder the whole town refers to it as the Astley curse.”
Astley curse? His fist tightened at his side. Frederick could not contemplate another scandal. Not again. Even if Blake’s doubts needled with unanswered questions. Salvaging his family’s estate remained his first priority. “We are not speaking of my brother. We are speaking of Miss Ferguson and an impossible match.”
“Impossible? How so? If the girl has no objections and you have no qualms about ushering her into the disaster which is your family, I don’t see why this should change your mind about the arrangement at all. And let’s not forget that shechoseto take her sister’s place, a decision that speaks a great deal to her character.” He raised a brow before turning back to the task of besting Frederick at bowling. “Imagine that, Freddie. A woman of character on your side? Something you’ve never experienced, I should remind you.”
Frederick squeezed the bowling ball between his hands.
Blake spoke truth, so why did the very idea of marrying Grace Ferguson leave him in a dither? He rolled the ball and knocked down six pins. What was he afraid of? Was he concerned she’d breach the wall around his heart, and he’d only disappoint her as he’d done everyone else?
“I know you’re thinking of your mother’s reaction.”
Not exactly.
“But in all honesty, Freddie, you’re the one marrying the girl. Shouldn’t your primary concern beyourability to get on with her, not your mother’s?” He took another ball and turned back to his friend. “She’s made sport of managing people’s affairs and done a poor job of it. This isyourfuture.Yourbride.”
Frederick looked down at the ball. The weight of his own past when compared to Grace’s genuine innocence pressed upon his shoulders like a heavy black cloak. “To be honest, Blake, I…I don’t deserve someone like her. Not with the fool I’ve been. But for Grace Ferguson’s convic-tions, I’d have walked directly into a deception very similar to what I left years ago.”
Blake’s blond brows rose. “But for Grace Ferguson?” He held Frederick’s attention with a look to drive his point home. “It seems to me that Grace Ferguson is a providentially provided answer.” He grinned. “I’ll admit she’s a bit odd, but some of the best people are, you know? Just think of Aunt Lavenia.”
Frederick almost grinned. His aunt was certainly one of a kind.
“What if you took this whole situation for what it appears to be? A new beginning? If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been searching for such an opportunity for over two years now.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then why are you suddenly surprised when the Almighty gives you what you asked? If I recall from what sermons I’ve attended to, God is known for lavishing love on His children. Grace, I believe it’s called?” His brows winged high again. “Why not shower Him with thanksgiving and take the gift He’s placed before you? I would hazard a guess that gratitude is never a bad start for any relationship.”
Frederick stared at his friend, the truth sinking in. A new beginning? Could it be possible, right before him? He dared not believe it. “You’re very smart for a single man with no responsibilities.”
“Plenty of time to contemplate others’ futures, I suppose.”
Gratitude? Could this one choice set in motion a future to redeem his past? Frederick rolled the ball forward and produced the sharp crash of a strike. A tiny shaft of hope slipped beneath his fear. Could God really offer a solution for his heart and legacy? “I believe I’ve regained my focus, good man.”
“I’m glad to see it.” Blake nodded. “You’re horrible company when you’re pensive.”
Frederick walked toward the doorway, a lighter step to his gait. “I hope you’ll see less of it in the future.”
If God was offering a new beginning, Frederick had every plan to take it—if the woman he’d rejected would still have him.
Rejection left an unsavory flavor.
Grace had offered Lord Astley a solid proposition, yet he seemed less than interested in the proposal—or her. Was she really that horrible of an option? It was true that in light of Lillias’s many attributes, Grace fell terribly short, but honesty and a dash of creative wit had to count for something in the grand scheme of things, didn’t it? And she’d gotten much better at talking about dull things without yawning.
An uncommonly hollow feeling branched out through her chest and made her think of reading something morose likeWuthering Heights, but the haloed glow of sunset kept her from delving too severely into disappointment. The golden-orange hues deepened as the shadowed mountains cradled the sun’s fading light. A smile warmed her face.
God always seemed to send a cheerful something at the most opportune times.
The chilly breeze from her position on the Whitlocks’ back terrace brushed against her warm cheeks and offered a sweet caress. She embraced her solitude to tend her wounds, taking the opportunity to sneak away from the other guests, especially the unnerving eyes of her would-be fiancé. Or rather, “wouldn’t be” fiancé.
He’d watched her during supper with that piercing gaze of his, an inscrutable expression on his face. What did he see when he looked at her? Likely anything but a countess.
Grace sighed and pressed her palms into the rough cement of the terrace wall. What had she done wrong? She’d witnessed a few of her father’s business conversations—mostly from the safe distance of a crack in the door—and her offer to the reluctant earl held as many solid arguments as any of those. Even more than some.
Yet he’d refused her.
Though she wasn’t as socially equipped as her sister, surely she came with a few virtues of her own. She couldn’t really help her hair color, and she wouldn’t apologize for her vigorous imagination—it had proven indispensable on many occasions. But she did come with a great deal of money, which seemed more important than her penchant for speaking before thinking and riding astride.
