Page 18 of Silver Bells and Secrets

Chapter Eight

Gracesteppedintotheparlor, and hang him if Ezra didn’t nearly drop the book in his hands. Gads, but she was stunning. The Pomona green dress she wore hugged her curves just right and accentuated her milky white skin. Her dark hair was piled atop her head with several curls falling about her face and along the curve of her neck. But what drew his attention the most was her pink lips and the way they tipped up in a smile.

He’d always imagined her smiling, all those months they’d written one another. The optimism in her letters, the way she chose to spend more time speaking of the good in her life than the bad, he’d known she must have an oft-used smile. He hadn’t been wrong.

Ezra stood and strode toward her. She’d written him once of a dreadful musicale experience during the Season, one where her nerves had overcome her thoughts and Grace had felt certain the hostess was embarrassed afterward to admit to having asked her to play. He hoped she wasn’t too nervous tonight. They were a smaller group, after all. Surely that would help. Either way, she ought to know he’d be cheering her on.

“Good evening, Mrs. Stewart, Miss Stewart.” As he moved up beside her and her mother, Grace’s eyes landed on him. Her smile grew, and her eyes sparked.

But then she cast her mother a sideways glance.

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

When next she looked up, it was not to smile at him but to offer him an indifferent nod of the head.

“Good evening, Lord Weston.”

Her voice wasn’t cold, but it certainly didn’t contain the warmth and companionship he’d grown to expect from her. Perhaps she trulywasnervous about tonight. But, no, that didn’t seem quite right either.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked her, silently wishing her mother would go speak with one of the other matrons so he could truly and openly talk with Grace.

“My daughter is feeling quite fine,” Mrs. Stewart answered. With that, she took hold of Grace’s arm and led her around Ezra and further into the room.

Ezra stood, stunned, where they’d left him. He knew he often said the wrong thing while out among society; he wasn’t charming or charismatic. But he was fairly certain he hadn’t said anything wrong just now. All he’d done was wish them a good evening and ask after Grace’s health. Perhaps he’d made it sound as though he believed she looked sickly? He wouldn’t put it past himself to bungle even that small of an interaction.

Still, shehadn’tlooked all right. At least, not when she had looked at him.

Ezra ran a hand over the back of his neck. She’d smiled at him plenty that morning at breakfast. And what of Mrs. Stewart? He would bet his last shilling that she’d had something to do with the change in Grace.

The two women stopped directly before Lord Brown and struck up a conversation. Soon thereafter, Lady Brown stood up before the group and asked everyone to sit. They were ready to begin.

Ezra took the seat just behind and a little way down from Grace. He was too far away from her to strike up a conversation, but it was the closest seat still open and one blessedly close enough for him to overhear her conversation with Lord Brown.

Not that a true gentleman would ever eavesdrop; but a desperate, uncharming, slightly confused man certainly would.

“I am quite looking forward to hearing you play,” Lord Brown said.

Ezra silently seconded the notion, while also cursing Lord Brown for being at liberty to say as much when he clearly was not.

“I would not have you get your hopes up,” Grace responded. Her voice was soft and sweet as always, but he thought there was a tingle of impersonal formality to it as well. “I am no great performer.”

“Modest to a fault, I’d say.”

Ezra let out a huff. The way Lord Brown was forever dismissing Grace’s words was growing incredibly frustrating.

“No.” Grace’s tone was a bit more insistent this time. “I am in earnest. While I love music, I’m afraid I have never been very good at the pianoforte.”

“Then know that I am here,” Lord Brown said, “cheering you on.”

Curse Lord Brown. Those were supposed to be Ezra’s words.

“In all honesty...” Grace’s voice grew softer, and Ezra fought the urge to lean in to better hear. “I truly wish Lady Frances was here.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because she is my dearest friend. If she were here in the audience, I know I would feel far less nervous now.”

All the crawling restlessness, all the prickling frustration inside of Ezra melted at her words.

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