Page 58 of The Mistletoe Countess
“Thank you, Reverend Marshall. What a beautiful day for worship.”
“Yes, it is.” The man’s gray eyes creased at the corners as he smiled. “I would suspect you appreciate it more than most.”
“I do. Most assuredly.” A wash of gratitude nearly brought her to tears. “A familiar place among the unfamiliar can provide a great deal of comfort.”
“You are always welcome. Kindred hearts find their place within these walls.”
She bit her wobbling lip. Why was she so quick to doubt that God heard her? He’d placed yet another person in her wake to remind her of His nearness. “Thank you.”
“Your fame precedes you.” He leaned forward with a twinkle in his pale eyes. “I’ve heard you’re an excellent swimmer.”
Grace blinked back her tears, her grin swelling to proportions Charles Bingley would appreciate. “You should see me at lawn tennis.”
Reverend Marshall raised a hand to his lips to brace the edges of his smile. “Yes, I think you will do quite well for Havensbrooke.”
With that added vote of confidence, Grace crossed the threshold into the church’s narrow entry, only to find Frederick lying in wait. Without a word, he pulled her aside into an alcove barely large enough to share, his gaze searching hers. “I know the service is ready to begin, but I had to speak with you.”
She searched his sober face. “Are you all right?”
“Youare concerned for me?” He sighed and studied her, shaking his head. “Oh Grace, I have so much to learn.” He wrapped his fingers around hers for a brief embrace. “I’m afraid I’ve not been a very good friend of late, and I wish to make amends.”
Her bottom lip dropped at his declaration before she recovered. “I’ve missed my friend immensely.”
“And I’ve been an imbecile.” He groaned as if her words inflicted pain. “Forgive me, darling?”
There was something disarming about a man who framed an apology with a truth on one end and adarlingon the other. “Would you help me find a Christmas tree today? It would be a very friendly thing to do.”
His quick smile smothered her previous doubt quite soundly, and he gave her fingers another squeeze. “I’d love to find a Christmas tree with you.”
Just then Reverend Marshall dipped his head into the alcove, his gaze glimmering as it passed from Frederick to Grace. “We are ready to begin.”
“Begin?” Grace’s attention shifted from the reverend to Frederick.
“As the newest Earl and Countess of Astley, we sign our name to the family registry.” Frederick offered her an encouraging nod.
“A tradition that has continued for over a hundred fifty years,” added Reverend Marshall.
“And today, we add ours as the newest stewards of the people of Astlynn Commons and Havensbrooke.” Frederick offered his arm, his tender gaze pulling at her hope. “Together.”
She drew in a breath, slipped her arm through his, and followed Reverend Marshall into the ancient sanctuary. Stone pillars lined the middle aisle, ushering them toward an upraised wooden lectern area bathed in variegated color from sunlight through the intricate stained glass windows. What a magical backdrop for worship!
With great pomp, Grace stood beside Frederick at the front of the church as he added their names beneath a long row of Percys. Her smile softened.Together.
Frederick and Gracelynn Percy, Lord and Lady Astley.
A sudden gravity landed on her shoulders, as if generations of unseen men and women crowded around them in the church to wager how they’d measure up.
Was this a small taste of what Frederick felt? A tiny glimpse into centuries of lives lived for this legacy?
“May God bless this newest generation of Percys of Havensbrooke Hall and Astlynn Commons for His own glory,” Reverend Marshall announced to the crowded church. “Let us pray.”
Once the prayer ended, Grace attempted to follow Frederick to his seat, but he stopped her with a gentle hand. “I must take a special place in the lord’s box today.” He nodded toward a seat framed in by a dark-stained wooden fence. “My great-grandfather began a tradition years ago that the lord of the manor would lead prayers once a month when he was in town.” His gaze turned apologetic. “I asked Mother to save a place for you in our usual seat.”
Patience, Grace. You’re tending a heart.
Grace stiffened. “Of course.” She moved to stand beside Lady Moriah.
Reverend Marshall’s deep and exuberant voice pealed directly into Grace’s heart.
