Inspired by Grace Page 7

  Grace had never been good at expressing her emotions, but he had learned a few things about her over the years. The key to understanding Grace was really listening to her, not just paying heed to her words.

  She did not say that she loved him too. She did not say that he was more than a best friend. She did not say that she enjoyed the kiss ten years ago, but every indication was that she had welcomed it. Her deep blue eyes looked up at him without any hesitation.

  If the key to understanding what Gigi felt was dependent on something deeper than words, then he still had a good chance of winning her heart. It would have to take some finesse, perhaps even some grace. He was not known for his gracefulness, but with her in his arms right now, dancing without a note of music, the breadth of what was left unspoken was blatantly obvious. Grace loved him. And he just had to help her see it. He suddenly felt very inspired.

  Being graceful was never more important.

  He took a bold step forward, dipped her deeply, and looked straight into her surprised eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  She did not say yes, but he saw her eyes soften. She took a deep breath and looked straight back at him. He knew what that meant.

  So he kissed her.

  CHAPTER 7

  Gavin couldn’t have helped himself even if he’d tried. He had kissed her on impulse, to gauge her response. But he hadn’t realized his body was aching to show her how he had missed her. That ache was ten years old.

  With one arm wrapped around her petite waist, in a dip so deep that she was nearly horizontal, he pressed his lips to hers, urging her to kiss him in return. At first, there was nothing but surprise and stiffness, but that was impressively––and reassuringly––short lived. After a moment, it was he who struggled for breath. She gave every indication that she enjoyed it—from the fluidity and urgency he felt from her lips, to the way she clung to his shoulder. It was so much more than that first, young kiss they had shared at the dance lesson. He knew he had his answer. She loved him too, even if she did not know it yet.

  He slowed the kisses and gave one last feather-light kiss, softly brushing her lips with his. They both opened their eyes at the same time. All the anger from before had been replaced by a look of desire and surrender that he had never seen in Grace before.

  He pulled her up to a standing position and waited for her to say something. It seemed to take forever for her to find words. She stepped away but still didn’t say anything. The suspense was killing him.

  Finally she grinned and said, “Well, Gavin, that was . . . something else.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her word choice. He was about to answer with something smart when someone interrupted them from across the room.

  “Pardon me, Your Grace,” called out a footman. “Your mother sent me to ask if you require her services at the pianoforte.” His smirk made it clear that he had seen the kiss.

  Grace blushed a deep scarlet and turned away.

  “No, not tonight, Tim,” Gavin quickly called out to the servant.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Tim responded, leaving with a bow.

  Grace’s hands began to shake ever so slightly. She nervously smoothed her already flawless dress. “I believe my ankle has had all the dancing it can handle,” she announced.

  “Of course. Perhaps we can continue our lessons another day. We still have many things to discuss—”

  “Perhaps,” she responded with barely audible words. “But I believe I have a reputation to uphold.” Her face was a riot of color and emotion. Where just moments ago her eyes had been drunk with desire, now they flared with embarrassment. But not anger, I hope, he mused.

  She loved him. He just needed more time to persuade her of that fact.

  *****

  Grace left the ballroom and passed the footman in the foyer. She strained to avoid looking at him but felt his eyes following her. He made no effort to hide what he had witnessed. How could Gavin have kissed her like that?

  She tried to think of a place to hide for the next few hours. It was far too early to retire.

  The duchess was arranging the flowers in the entryway. Grace walked by as quickly and silently as she could, but the duchess noticed her right away.

  “Are you finished dancing already, Grace?”

  “Yes, I am afraid my foot could not take much more. Thank you for offering to play for us.”

  “You look flushed. My son did not make you exert yourself too much, did he?”

  “No, Your Grace. He was . . . very accommodating. If you will excuse me, I wish to get a book from the library.”

  “Of course. How is your ankle?”

  She took a deep breath. All she wanted to do was retreat to her own world. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what had just happened in the music room. She knew it was not difficult for people to read emotion in her face, especially when it was aglow with a heat that was spreading to her ears. She could hardly look the duchess in the face just now, knowing that she knew about the last dance lesson.

  What must she think of me? The world Grace had just begun to painfully reconstruct with hope, friendship, and fond remembrance had suddenly transformed into nothing but unease and embarrassment. She could have sworn that the duchess saw her swollen lips and the racing pulse of her neck.

  Without thinking, she reached up and touched her neck. Foolish girl! Of course she cannot see your pulse! Unable to form a complete thought, and not even sure of what had been asked of her, she gave half a curtsy and retreated to the library.

  Once she was there, she collapsed into the sofa, thankful that the sturdy furniture seemed unbothered by the weight of her anxiety. Even more worrisome was the unfamiliar sensation of her heart flapping around in her chest in complete disorder. Grace strove for predictability and control; this was not how she liked to do things.

  He did not abandon me! He kept writing for over a year! Her heart somersaulted against her ribs with the hope that somewhere, somehow, those letters may have survived. She would have to find a way to ask the duchess. How, she did not know, as that would involve asking the duchess about the last dance lesson. It would be mortifying. But all the evidence suggested that Gavin’s parents already knew. They had whisked their son off to school early to keep him away from Grace.

  But none of what happened ten years ago was nearly as important as what happened moments ago.

  She still felt the warmth of his lips on hers. His kiss was so powerful; it had awakened every sleeping hope inside her. At first, she had been surprised, but that feeling only lasted a moment. She had never been kissed by a man. Her only experience had been the dance lesson ten years ago. And this kiss was different. It could only be described as an igniting. Just as a torch is prepared with oil-soaked cloth, so her heart had been prepared for the reunion of his touch.

  She closed her eyes and relished in the fresh memory of his strong arms engulfing every inch of her. He had literally swept her off her feet for the second time in two days. She needed to get some control over her emotions, and quickly! She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and quietly mouthed her self-soothing mantra: Perform everything with grace. Deep breath. Perform everything with grace. Deep breath.

  Just then she heard a rustle of papers. She sat bolt upright. “Who is there?”

  “Only me, Miss Iverson,” Winston replied. “I am sorry to disturb you. I was just returning some books that His Grace has finished. I can come back another time.”

  Relieved that it was not the duchess or Gavin and grateful for the distraction, she calmly stood and smiled. “It is no bother,” she said. “I am thinking about selecting some books myself. May I ask what Gavin has enjoyed recently?”

  “Of course, miss.” Winston held out the three books in his hand.

  “Persuasion? Is that not written by a woman?”

  “Yes, miss. It is about a man who went to sea after being refused, only to return after making his fortune. I hear it is rather good.”

  It intrigued her quite a bit. “
So, it is about a sailor?”

  “Yes. His Grace tells me it is a very hopeful romance, one where an old love has to stand the test of time. The duke said he understood what Captain Wentworth felt when he said he was ‘half agony, half hope’. He finished it just last night.”

  Grace looked up at Gavin’s valet. He was quite a bit older than Gavin, perhaps almost five-and-thirty. His temples showed a bit of graying at the hairline, but it made him rather regal looking. Something about the man seemed innately trustworthy. And Gavin probably shared all his little secrets with his man, especially now that he no longer had a brother to confide in.

  She decided to take a risk. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Winston?”

  “Of course, miss.”

  She took a moment to pause and craft just the right wording. “The duke, he is changed since I last saw him ten years ago. What has he done over the years besides go off to sea?”

  Winston smiled and said, “I have served His Grace for almost seven years, ever since he came back from his grand tour. We sailed all around the world together. Captain Kingston was known for good humor in ports from here to Siam.”

  “I see. Did he make many friends on his voyages?”

  “Oh yes,” Winston agreed, “His Grace made friends wherever he went, miss.”

  She had a sinking feeling that he meant something more than “friends”, and her honest nature clarified before her heart could restrain it. “Lady friends, you mean?”

  Winston raised his eyebrow a bit but masked it quickly. The look was so fleeting that she could almost convince herself she had imagined it. It was the subtlest of gestures, but it had a profound impact on Grace’s heart. So, Gavin has had many women in his life.

  She steeled herself for the valet’s response. “The duke was a different man then, miss,” Winston explained. “He enjoyed meeting people, and he was always well-liked—”

  “Yes, I think I can imagine.”

  “No, miss, not like that. I did not mean to imply anything improper.”

  She paused in surprise. “But he was like his brother, right? I know Spencer enjoyed the ladies.”

  “No, miss. Spencer liked the ladies because of what he could get from them. I would say that the duke was quite different from his brother. His Grace, I believe, was looking for something as he went from lady to lady.”

  “What do you mean? What was he looking for?”

  Winston looked at her intensely for an extended moment. It was clear he was deliberating on how honestly to answer her question. “Well, I think that His Grace has had a very clear idea of his ideal woman for many, many years. I believe he was looking for someone like her.”

  Grace’s heart grew heavy. My goodness! “Many, many years”? How many ladies did that involve? Hearing that he was a ladies’ man was not new information. But it stirred feelings of inadequacy like never before. Would she be discarded with all the others when she did not measure up to this perfect woman he sought? Was she any different from the other “friends” he had over the years?

  “Do you mean to say he has been looking for someone in particular all this time?” she asked.

  “No, he was looking for someone.” The emphasis was not lost on Grace.

  She swallowed hard. “But not anymore?” she asked.

  Winston took a deep breath. “Miss Iverson, I cannot betray His Grace’s confidence.” He pursed his lips and carefully considered his words before continuing. “But it is no secret that His Grace detests his title. He is afraid it defines who he is, and he has a strong distrust of the women now. He believes they will say or do anything to become the Duchess of Huntsman.”

  “Are you saying he no longer wishes to marry?”

  Grace watched the valet closely. “The duke is under a great deal of pressure to marry,” Winston replied, “as anyone who has ever spent a day under the same roof as his mother knows. But the idea of marriage with anyone but this ideal woman is now distasteful to him in the highest degree. He—”

  She had schooled her features for as long as she was capable. “Of course. Thank you, Winston,” she interrupted. She looked down at her hands. There were so many emotions and thoughts fluttering her treacherous heart.

  There was silence for a moment as Winston hesitated. “Miss Iverson?”

  “Yes?”

  “I would never presume to speak for His Grace, but I know the duke was very much looking forward to dancing with you tonight. I have begun to see a bit of the man I knew in the earlier years, more light hearted and spontaneous, since you came. He seems less burdened. You are good for him.”

  A blush started to spread across her face. “He was certainly spontaneous,” Grace murmured. Winston held back a smile, which only embarrassed Grace further. “Do you mind if I hold onto Persuasion?” she asked.

  He handed her the book. “Not at all, miss.” Then Winston bowed and left.

  She took the book and sat down. She was not truly in the mood to read at the moment, but she opened the book and acted the part as she contemplated all she had heard.

  So, he has enjoyed his fair share of attention from the ladies? The news wasn’t altogether surprising. His lips certainly seemed experienced. She had always known that about Gavin. But she had always felt a bit of pride in knowing that she was special to him. He had said as much in the music room. “You were everything to me. Every good thing in my life had you in it.” Did he mean it? Was she still that special someone after all these years?

  Perhaps, but Winston had made it clear that Gavin did not want to marry. At least, not anymore.

  Then what did he want? Only to steal the hearts of vulnerable ladies?

  Surely he did not wish her to be his mistress . . . The thought hung in the air around her head, confusing her.

  No. She could not believe he was so calloused as to intentionally hurt her or damage her reputation. To believe that he was a rake rankled. The Gavin she knew had always protected her in every way possible. Even as children, whenever their misdeeds were discovered, Gavin had always claimed responsibility and had usually received the worst of the punishment. He was chivalrous in that way. And he still had a very strong sense of right and wrong. He would never intentionally ruin a woman’s reputation. She felt secure in this thought.

  Her heart bounced powerfully in her chest. The organ was not behaving as it should. If she wasn’t careful, she would find herself giving away its loyalty to a man who . . . who no longer wished to marry. But, surprisingly, she realized she didn’t care. The beating in her chest had found resonance years ago with Gavin. She still loved him. There was no doubt about it now. His kiss had simply rekindled those emotions she had strived to keep under lock and key for ten years.

  She had loved him so deeply. And she had truly felt he loved her the same way. But then circumstances had changed, and it all ended so suddenly.

  The first year they were apart, she told herself he was busy studying for his Cambridge entrance exams. And when the next summer brought no Kingston visitors, she assumed he was traveling with his parents to Italy, like they had talked of doing. But two more years passed, and she knew he had already entered university and was being introduced to all sorts of new people. When it was time for him to begin his grand tour of the continent, she prayed that he would seek her out and ask her to go with him.

  Of course her mother would never have allowed her to accept such an invitation, but in her heart she traveled with him. She studied French and Italian and geography, just to feel close to him. She kept putting off her first season in hopes that he would seek her out, but when she was one-and-twenty, her mother insisted that she make her debut.

  Remembering it reminded her of his silly game, challenge to the death, and each increasingly dangerous step. Making her debut had been the most difficult rung of the ladder yet. Either Gavin would be there in London, waiting to catch her, or she would have to try to find that big, brave man he had promised. And when Gavin hadn’t arrived, she had thought she might make do with
Mr. Broadbent. She had tried to convince herself that he was as good as Gavin. She had trusted him and nervously climbed another rung of the ladder. But then her mother died and Broadbent betrayed her. She had fallen to her death.

  And no one caught her.

  After that, she secluded herself at Tamara’s home for three years. She stopped confiding in her sisters and refused to reenter society. It was only when Sarah begged her, for Mother’s sake, that Grace began to consider attempting another season. It took several months of correspondence and the news of Sarah’s coming baby for her to finally agree. And, truthfully, she had been only too relieved to cancel the plans when Sarah took ill.

  Sarah didn’t need Grace in London—she had servants and a hired nurse—but Grace had been pleased to have a reason to stay in town. Simply being in London increased her chances of hearing about the Kingstons. Grace hoped that she might at least see the announcement when Gavin married.

  Well, I am definitely hearing about the Kingstons now¸ she mused, although not all the news is welcome. But does it matter if he doesn’t wish to marry? Does it matter that he once had “friends” in every port?

  No.

  He was her best friend.

  She would take whatever he would give. And he had given her a special memory. Some moments of the last hour had been trying, certainly, but it had been worth it. She wouldn’t trade the memory of that kiss for anything. If he wanted a best friend, she would be that person. Short of sacrificing her reputation, she would walk arm in arm with him as long as he would let her.

  She pondered the events of the last hour for several more minutes until she heard someone enter the room. From the clippity-clop click of his heals, she knew who it was. She closed her eyes and repeated her mantra in her heart and mind. Perform everything with grace.