Page 49 of The Mistletoe Countess
She pressed her eyes closed. It was the goal of every earl to ensure his family line, wasn’t it? That seemed to be the main focus in books, anyway. That and winning at cards. She frowned. Or was it horse racing?
She sighed and slid into a nearby chair, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. How had she failed to prepare herself sufficiently for such a place, for such a feeling? Home waited thousands of miles away. The warmth of her father, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock, and other friends couldn’t breach such a distance. Would Frederick turn away from her too? Especially if she didn’t meet whatever expectations society or his mother deemed necessary.
In all her life, Grace had never felt so…alone.
She pushed tears away as Ellie entered to help her prepare for bed.
Oh God, please…please help me create something beautiful from this choice.
Chapter Fifteen
Frederick marched from his mother’s room with a hardened edge knotting his stomach. There was no use arguing with her. To her he’d forever remain the black sheep of the family—the failure. Every decision, every choice she tore apart with her poisonous tongue, leaving him as bereft of her affection as always. At least when his grandmother lived, he’d known the tenderness of a woman’s kindness.
Except now. With Grace. He’d never expected her presence to provide such a comfort, even as his mother spewed criticism and anger. Despite their unconventional beginning and her youthfulness, she fit him in a way he’d never imagined. They held easy conversations from anything related to improvements at Havensbrooke to fiction to faith. Even when they’d confronted one another during and after the car accident, they’d argued as friends—equals—her opinion as readied as his own. It all seemed too good to be true. Too sweet and right.
Over and over throughout their journey, Grace had looked at him as if he truly was capable and good and worth admiring. He rubbed his fingers against a new ache in his chest. When was the last time someone had looked at him with such genuine and unguarded esteem? Had anyone ever?
He gave the door latch a quiet turn and stepped from their shared sitting room into her bedroom. As he scanned the gold-and-white decor, he frowned. Gilded. Pristine. Regal. No, those didn’t suit the bride he’d brought home. Grace’s room should hold vibrancy and warmth.
Firelight provided the only light in the room as he stepped soundlessly forward and then stopped. Curled up on the bed, blankets piled to her chin and firelight flickering a golden glow across her face, lay his wife, fast asleep. She looked beautiful, her hair fanned out across the pillow, hand tucked beneath her cheek.
He slid a finger over her skin before trailing his hand to her hair, still damp from the river…where he could have lost her. The thought sent a visceral ache spiraling through his chest. Could the vows he made in front of God and the camaraderie they’d begun to share be enough to bind him to her in such a way so quickly?
She smiled in her sleep but didn’t stir. Frederick hung his head with a resigned grin. She needed rest, especially after everything that had happened. His gaze dropped to the pillow beside hers. But he’d promised to sleep in the bed with her every night. He went to his room, dressed in his nightclothes, and returned. Careful not to wake her, he slipped into the bed.
Her gaze flickered open, long enough to give him a sleepy smile and curl up against him, murmuring something unintelligible as she did. He rolled his eyes toward heaven and offered another silent prayer. This time in thanksgiving instead of for help.
Perhaps God had sent Grace to fortify his prayer life, because it was working. He hadn’t prayed so much in the past two years as he’d prayed in the previous two weeks.
With a sigh, he tucked her close and rested his head against her hair. His mother wouldn’t make the transition easy—she rarely made anything easy—but one thing his mother hadn’t counted on was the strength of Grace Ferg—Percy.HisLady Astley.
Despite the harsh and intimidating words his mother wielded like a blade, Frederick placed his bets on the ginger in his arms.
Morning light glittered through the slits in the curtain, orienting Grace to her surroundings. She blinked the gilded room into view, it’s opulence and refinement reviving her last thoughts before sleep mercifully took hold. This room was meant for her sister. Its distant and distinguished beauty, pale and monochrome, fit Lillias’s tastes.
But not hers.
She cringed at the negative turn of her thoughts and pushed herself up in bed. Lady Astley’s words still clung to her heart, leeching to her joy like a black glove. Grace had never considered herself a pawn in the grand social game, but her mother-in-law’s harshness revealed the fairy tale of the last few days in a stark light of reality.
Frederick married her for money, and Grace had never been part of the plan.
She clenched her eyes closed and dropped back down on the bed, refusing tears. She was an impulsive creature—too quick to make decisions without counting the cost, too ready to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. And here she was. She’d left home and family for this vast and cold world without a true friend among the walls.
She rolled on her side, an unruly tear slipping from her control to warm her temple before disappearing into the folds of her hair.You know, Lord.She’d chosen this path for all the right reasons, yet even He felt far off as the echoes of Lady Astley’s criticism reverberated through Grace’s heart.
Surely if God was everywhere, He could find His way to the second floor of the south wing of Havensbrooke Hall in the middle of Derbyshire, England. Could all of it, even her poor attempts, still somehow fashion into a grander part of God’s plan? She’d been taught so, but everything blurred into a rumbling ache in the light of morning.
Grace blinked the bedside into view. The neighboring pillow and blanket lay crinkled from use. She smoothed her hand over the cloth, and the faint scent of amber accompanied her touch. Had Frederick joined her last night? She thought she’d dreamed him slipping beside her and tugging her against him, but here was evidence it was not a dream.
Maybe she wasn’t so very alone after all. And maybe it wasn’t just about money.
“Good morning, my lady.”
Grace shoved her hair away to see Ellie drawing back the curtains, ushering morning light into the room. Being on the east side of the house would make excellent use of the sun’s heat. As it was, Grace drew the blankets up a little closer to stave off the slight chill in the air. England felt much colder than Virginia in more ways than one.
At least the sun shone. That was a good start to any day.
Ellie’s pale eyes looked tired, even her usually excellent posture waned.
