Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

G race was frozen to the floor as the word "grace" was used, not as her Christian name, but as Ollie's title. Grace tried to comprehend the situation, but shock filled her senses, muddling her brain. She had just danced with the duke. The duke. Ollie was the duke? Pain filled her as she felt the betrayal. He was supposed to be her friend—her confidant.

But all along he'd lied to her.

Heat drained from her head, a dizzy, nauseous feeling taking its place. She felt as though she might be sick.

Backing away from the group she maneuvered her way toward the door, away from Ollie—the duke.

She covered her head in her hands. She'd told him about her plans to make an advantageous match with the duke. With him. Had he been laughing at her this whole time ?

"You've created quite the splash," Susan said, coming next to Grace, and looping an arm through hers. "You must tell me all about dancing with the duke."

Grace opened her mouth, then closed it again. How could she explain?

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Cousin? Are you unwell?"

Grace tried to draw in a deep breath, but the motion came in rapid shallow gasps instead. "I fear the ball is too stuffy for me," she said.

"Is it your ankle?" she asked in a concerned tone. "I was afraid you might dance to the point of fatigue."

Grace shook her head but could not muster up the energy to respond.

"Oh, you poor dear," Susan said, supporting Grace as they walked through the hallway toward the entrance. "We can go. There are plenty of carriages to take the other guests home. They will all be leaving at different times. We do not have to stay."

Grace smiled as best she could, forcing her cheek muscles to create a happy expression, instead of a scowl. She didn't want to take her cousin away from the ball because she was the hostess of the house party, but she couldn't stay at the ball any longer. Not with waves of humiliation crashing against her and threatening to drown her. She found her voice, and it sounded weary to her own ears. "That is kind of you, Susan. I should like to go home and retire for the evening. Please don't feel like you must accompany me back. "

Susan asked for their wraps and ordered their carriage. "Do not be silly, Grace. I wouldn't leave you. I will order a tray to your room in the morning, and you may sleep as long as you choose so you can recover from the exercise."

Grace nodded. Susan only saw Grace's fatigue as a physical burden, but it was the rest of Grace that needed to recover. Grace kept her head in her hands on the drive home, her head spinning around Ollie. Susan didn't press her for details, only helped her up to her room when they arrived at home. She took the initiative in ordering the tray and pulling the bell pull to have Molly come and attend to Grace.

"Please send for me if you need anything," Susan said. "I'm sure a full night's rest will do wonders for you."

"Thank you, Susan, you are most attentive," Grace said.

Susan left the room, and Grace immediately put her hands over her face again. "Oh, what must he think of me?" she whispered to herself. Her cheeks heated as she remembered with very great details all the things she'd said to Ollie—to the duke— all when she had no idea who he really was. Mortification rose inside of her. A dread that left each of her nerves raw.

Earlier this evening she had contemplated what it would be like to pursue a relationship with Ollie, instead of the duke. But now, only one thing was certain in her mind—she now didn't have the option to pursue Ollie or the duke… they were the same person. She closed her eyes to the harsh reality of her predicament. She'd made an even bigger fool of herself in front of Ollie than simply riding out unattended in the forest. And because of that she'd ruined everything.

Ollie being the duke could have seemed like an answer to all her problems. Hadn't she wondered what life could be like with Ollie before she found out? Yes, but it didn't matter. She'd told Ollie as much on two separate occasions.

He'd been supportive of her pursuing the duke, but that was now a complete impossibility. The sooner she left this ball and this house party the better. It was humiliating to think of all that she had told Ollie about her plans.

She should vacate her cousin's house immediately, but there was still a full week left of the house party. She thought of all the other gentlemen in attendance. She'd been polite to each of them, but she hadn't really encouraged any of their attentions. Was there time to change that? Would a week be enough time to create a new impression?

Would her family find another match acceptable if it wasn't the duke?

She hoped so, because now she had no choice.

Hot, angry tears spilled onto her cheeks. He'd lied to her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the humiliation to disperse, but it continued to cling to her, like unrelenting tree branches in the woods.

She shook her head furiously. She needed a new course. She didn't need to fall in love with someone else at the house party. What a silly notion it was to let her heart get involved at all.

"I've forgotten my whole purpose," she said to the empty room. "I will do my duty and hope for the best." She needed to make a smart match, an advantageous match.

Just because she'd learned what it meant to love someone, didn't mean that she had to think on that while she married to help her family. Love meant embarrassment and mortification. Love meant she was vulnerable to her feelings of the heart, and none of those things would serve her. She knew she wouldn't be able to forget what love felt like, but it wouldn't be her focus. She couldn't risk it. She only needed to make an acceptable match, without any interference from her heart. Love was a terrible game, and one that she'd just lost at.

A knock sounded at the door, and Susan stepped inside before Grace said anything.

"Grace, are you still unwell?" Susan surveyed the untouched tray on the desk.

Grace forced a smile. "I am perfectly well," she said, doing her best to believe her own words. "I plan to join in the festivities this afternoon." She needed to start making an effort with other gentlemen in the party.

Susan's brow wrinkled with confusion. "I am glad to see that you are recovering, but why did you send the duke away this morning? He called on you very particularly. "

Grace opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

"What it is, Grace? Did you not enjoy dancing with him last night? The two of you looked very happy during your set."

"I did enjoy dancing with him," she said truthfully. "Though that was before I knew who he was."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I did not know that he was the duke when I began dancing with him."

Susan blanched. "Surely you were introduced before dancing."

Grace bit her lip, wondering how much she dare tell her cousin. She wanted to tell Susan about her time in the woods with Ollie—about everything that had happened between her and the duke. But she didn't know how to start. All her thoughts were too jumbled, too tangled to make sense.

"The duke has paid you a great compliment, first in his attentions toward you at the ball, and now to call on you. Do you not see the significance of that?"

Grace closed her eyes. Her cousin made valid points. "It is more complicated than it appears on the surface."

"I do not see how that is possible." Susan studied her for a moment, then handed Grace a small, white handkerchief. "This is for you."

Grace opened the handkerchief, her fingers trembling as she pulled out her mother's silver comb. She blinked. "I thought I'd lost it. Where did you find it?" She had looked through her saddlebags several times but had been disappointed.

"The duke left it for you." Susan raised an eyebrow. "I do not remember it being in your hair yesterday."

Grace leaned against the frame of her bed and sighed. She wanted to tell her cousin all about the duke, and this was the opening she needed. "I have a story to tell you," she said. "It may take me a few tries to compose all of my ideas, but please let me finish before you say anything."

Susan nodded and sat on the bed next to Grace, looking expectantly.

Grace took a steadying breath and began. She told Susan everything, from the time she left the ill Mrs. Mead and her daughters to her accident in the woods, to her subsequent rescue by Ollie.

She could tell from Susan's expression that she wanted to say something, but Grace pushed on. She recounted the entirety of their time together in the woods, emphasizing the fact that neither of them had come away from the experience with a tarnished reputation. She told Susan about their conversations, and all that she had told Ollie about her family circumstances.

Then she told her cousin about their dance in the cottage, his tenderness toward her, and his help in making sure that she arrived safely at Susan's residence .

She finished her story with all the details of their time together, and when she was finished, she looked to her cousin. "That is why I left last night after the dance. I found out he was the duke when the group formed around us."

Susan blew out a breath. "That is a lot to take in. But surely, this is not a bad situation. After all, you came to this house party with the idea to make a match with the duke. And, as it turns out, you've done so, although in a most unconventional way."

A warning voice sounded in Grace's head. "If anyone were to find out about this, it would harm our reputations."

Susan waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Your secret is safe with me, Grace. Have no fear of that. I only meant that it seems that the duke returns your feelings."

Grace shook her head. "Do you not see how mortifying this is, Susan? I told him all my plans. I told him about my family situation. I had no intention of revealing that to anyone at the house party. I would have never told him if I'd known he was the duke." Heat flooded her cheeks, scorching her skin with the reminder that she'd been too outspoken with Ollie.

"It is not so hopeless. He did come calling on you."

"I do not want to see him again, Susan. The embarrassment alone is enough to cause me to faint."

Susan offered her a small smile. "It truly cannot be as bad as all that. It sounds like the two of you have a connection. And considering that he has been a widower for five years, and to my knowledge has never once called on a single female during that time—that is something."

It was something—but it was something that didn't matter—or shouldn't matter at least.