Page 30 of The Mistletoe Countess
She felt his devastating smile all the way to her heart.
“But remember, I’ve been sure to list off my many vices, so whatever awaits us, prepare yourself for the need of a great deal of fortitude.”
He raised his brows and squeezed her fingers, his expression creasing with a little uncertainty. “I’m looking forward to the journey.”
The man was delusional, and the very thought made her like him even more. Perfect and dashing caused too much intimidation, but delusional and dashing? She could fit into a world with a man like that—maybe—if she could just figure out what exactly a countess was supposed to do.
Chapter Nine
Her father had wept when he learned of the engagement.
Wept and apologized while holding her within an embrace Grace had known her whole life. It had all seemed rather lovely last evening on the terrace, but now, in daylight? The truth settled with finality over her heart. All the plans she’d made for her future, all her daydreams, plummeted into a monotony of social expectations and fashionable conversations. What about her own adventures? Her passion for becoming a daring heroine in possible life-threatening situations?
She wiped a hand over her damp cheeks and dropped down at her bedroom window seat to rest her forehead against the cold pane. The horizon of mountains and sky beckoned her heart to trust in One who weaved the patterns of life and death and adventures and romances together in the tapestry of eternity. Would He work this decision out for good? He knew she had done it all for the right reasons.
She breathed out a long breath and sat up. She’d made her decision, and crying didn’t help. But the ache reverberating through her chest found no other release except through her eyes.God, help me.
“I see reality is settling in, my dear.” Grace looked up to find Mrs. Whitlock entering the room, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a becoming way.
The illustrious mistress of the manor offered a gentle smile and took a seat beside Grace. The Whitlocks had been one of the few in the wedding party who’d learned the whole truth of Lillias’s situation. Otherwise, the simple narrative had been shared that Frederick’s affections had transferred to the younger Ferguson daughter and an amiable transition had taken place for the wedding. It had sounded so simple and, in many ways, true. Lord Astley desired a wife who didn’t already belong body and soul to someone else, but the lingering awareness that love was nowhere in the decision weighed upon Grace.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and then groaned at forgetting to use her handkerchieflike a lady.“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Mrs. Whitlock tipped her chin in a thoughtful manner. “And why do you suppose you can’t?”
Grace stared at the dear woman as if she’d lost her mind. “I know little about what life is like as an earl’s wife. I’m not worldly and elegant and witty. What if I ruin his entire legacy?”
“I have known you your whole life, Grace.” Mrs. Whitlock chuckled. “And I don’t believe you have the ability to bring down the entire Percy family.”
Grace sighed with a sudden sense of relief. If Mrs. Whitlock said so, it had to be true. She’d been raised among the aristocracy.
“You don’t recognize it, my dear”—she took Grace’s hand, her smile kind—“but you already possess the tools within you not only to survive but to thrive in this choice, perhaps even more so than your sister.”
Mrs. Whitlock spoke with such confidence that there had to be a semblance of truth somewhere in her optimistic ravings, and Grace adored optimism in any form.
“How can that be? Lillias had training tobecomea countess. I can’t even remember which fork to use at dinner.”
“My dear Grace.” Mrs. Whitlock’s gentle countenance smoothed away even more of Grace’s worry. “Embrace his world as your own, and in doing so, you will find your place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Despite your misgivings, you make a fine match. Your optimism suits his reserve. His thoughtfulness compliments your action. The pair-ing is far from hopeless.” Her brow rose. “But as is true of any marriage, you will have to work for your happily-ever-after. Noblemen carry a burden far beyond themselves, so to win his favor, you must learn to love his land, his home.”
“Havensbrooke?”
“He shoulders the weight of generations. It is a heavy burden, so if you support him—love his world as freely and fully as you love so many other things—he will respond to you.” Her smile softened. “With as full a heart, if I am any judge of men.”
“So by caring for Havensbrooke, I could nurture a friendship with Lord Astley?”
“I have every faith you’ll nurture much more than friendship.” She raised a finger in warning. “But it’s no easy feat, my dear. You will be faced with trials from a dowager mother who, by all accounts, is not even-tempered and has had her way with the place for years now. The servants may be rigid in their ability to see you as their mistress, and Lord Astley will feel the pull of conventions and expectations of his rank and station. His world will be very different than yours. But you are strong, brave, and filled with imagination. Remember who you are and what you believe. You weremadefor this moment, Grace.”
Mrs. Whitlock’s smile offered such tender encouragement that Grace almost started crying again. The woman had witnessed Grace’s childish misadventures and triumphs and had watched her grow into the distracted, whimsical young lady she’d become. And being from England herself, Mrs. Whitlock brought a unique view into a world Grace had only glimpsed through the pages of books. Could dear Mrs. Whitlock be right?
Despite a tremor in her chest, Grace smiled. If God chose her for this task and knew she stepped into it with all the best intentions, wouldn’t He also provide everything she needed to fulfill it?
“You’ve never been the pampered, indulgent sort. And you have an amenable and adaptable demeanor, which will prove indispensable to your and Lord Astley’s happiness. So many of the less successful American brides in the past failed to reach beyond their differences and disappointments or failed to employ their imaginations to assist them in the transition from our world to Britain. Continue in your kindness, even when it’s not returned. Sprinkle your very special type of joy on the shadowed parts of his world, and you will glean more than I think evenyoucan imagine, my dear girl.”
Grace wiped away the remnants of tears from her cheeks and sat a little taller at the compliment. Why, if what Mrs. Whitlock said was true, Grace had plenty of resources from which to draw at least an adequate amount of courage. “More thanIcan imagine? It sounds like an adventure worth the risks.”
