Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

" M y ankle is still sore," Grace said, her distress evident. "How am I to dance if I cannot even stand?"

Oliver gave her an encouraging smile. She'd only been using the crutch for a few hours, and already she'd been improving. "The more you rest it, the better off you will be. I daresay in a couple of weeks …"

"A couple of weeks? That is not good at all. I need to be dancing before a few weeks from now," Grace said, rubbing the side of her face. "What am I to do?"

"There will be plenty of other dances. What does it matter if you miss a few dances during the house party?"

"You don't understand," she murmured.

"No, I do not understand why dancing is more important than your health. "

"Dancing at the ball will determine the rest of my life, that's why it's more important."

He held in his laugh. Grace looked determined, all jesting gone from her eyes. "I do not understand how dancing could possibly do that."

Grace was amusing in the way she thought about things, and he liked hearing her opinions. He also enjoyed dancing, in fact it was one of the things he'd missed most over the last few years.

"I have it on very good authority that the Duke of Norfolk likes to dance," Grace said.

Warning flags raised in his mind. He kept his breathing slow, unwilling to give anything away. "And why should that matter?"

"It matters because I am a superior dancer. Superior dancers look for superior partners."

He laughs. "I do not think the duke attends balls regularly."

"I have it on good authority that he will be at the Christmas ball. My cousin was quite positive about it. And I must be able to dance by then." She glared at her ankle, as if that would instantly heal her.

"So that he will see you dance?"

"Yes, and so he will fall in love with me."

Oliver laughed again. He couldn't help himself. This conversation was utterly ridiculous to have with a woman in the woods. "Do all women think that men are so easily captured by such skills? "

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, but there was a flash of hurt in her eyes. "I wear the clothes of someone who hasn't fallen on hard times. My family relations are very well off. Why shouldn't dancing lead to marriage?"

"Why should it?" he countered back.

"Because it's one of the best ways to capture someone's attention. A few smiles while we dance, a few flirtatious words, and once I have his attention, we will talk more, and I will win him over so he will fall in love with me."

"He's a gentleman and a widower. I doubt he wants to be looked at as a prize."

"Just as women are looked at as a prize?" She leaned back on the settee.

"Touché. But why is dancing your only option to gain a man's attention?" he asked.

"It is what I am best at. I am not a great beauty, nor overly clever or well-connected. Being a skilled dancer is the only way I can think of to stand out in a room full of beauty."

His breath hitched. He did not agree with Grace's assessment of herself. She was, in fact, very beautiful. And spirited. She was clever and witty, holding her own each time they verbally sparred. Before he could voice any of these thoughts, however, she continued.

"I believe I could make him happy again."

He squinted at her. What game was she playing? "You don't know the first thing about him, aside from a rumor from your cousin that he may or may not come to the Christmas ball."

"That is true. But I am fully aware of my future if I fail to win his attentions." She shuddered. "And I don't like the alternative."

He leaned forward in his chair, more attentive than he had been a moment ago. "What do you mean the alternative?"

"It is nothing," she said, waving her hand in the air.

"I don't believe you," he said, watching her closely.

She glanced around the room before her light brown eyes landed on his. "Are you very good at keeping secrets, Ollie?" she asked, biting her lip between her teeth.

He nodded slowly, wondering what she would say next.

"I have agreed to a marriage of convenience this spring, if I do not secure a match before then. That is why I must dance."

"To find a man to marry," he said slowly.

"Not just anyone. Someone who will be more … financially … sound than the current offer I have." She covered her face with her hands. "It sounds truly dreadful when I say it aloud. I know it does, but it is what I need to do."

Oliver schooled his features into the mask that he wore when he was at school, the one that would make others try to guess his own thoughts. "What is so dreadful about the match you have already secured? I did not know that women were in the habit of securing such arrangements, only to get out of them. You want a title, is that it?"

"The arrangement I have right now has a title attached to it. But the earl is twenty years my senior with children already of his own that are nearly as old as I am."

"If the idea is so repulsive to you, I wonder that you tried to secure it." He shook his head. Women, it seemed, were all the same. All trying to get the best situation. A title, a fortune, a parcel of land.

"It is not for me," she said earnestly. "Originally when Papa asked for my help, I thought he only wanted to use my dowry for my younger sisters. After all, I have no prospects, and so I told him he could use it for my twin sisters just younger than me. Both of them will have a London Season this year, and though my relatives are sponsoring them, it is not quite enough."

"So they took your dowry?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Papa said that was not necessary, and that the earl's offer would be something to consider."

"But against your own will?"

She sat up straighter, her eyes flashing. "It is not against my will. I want to help my family. And this situation gives me a way to do that. I am the eldest. It falls to me to help where I can."

He crossed his arms across his chest. "So you will give up the happiness of a marriage because you want to help your family?"

She lifted one shoulder. "I hope to still find happiness. I do not plan to give up the idea entirely. And I have a chance to choose at the house party. If there is a situation that would help my family more than what I have now … that is what I will do. I'd much rather marry someone closer to my own age," she said wistfully, then sighed.

"With such plans, I'm surprised you aren't concerned other guests won't have the same idea. Your cousins for example. Are they not close to your same age?"

"They are a few years younger than me, but I doubt there is a prospect there. My cousin who is married is a neighbor to the duke. She's never said anything about her younger sisters having any interest. I have only just recently decided on the duke, though my cousin has mentioned him before. But other guests are a concern, especially if I cannot dance properly." She glared down at the blanket that was covering her injured ankle.

"What do your cousins get out of sponsoring you in this lunacy?"

She shrugged. "Likely the prestige of being related to the duke's new bride, I'd imagine. And it would set my sisters up for a path where they would be able to marry for love." She leaned back in her chair and sighed again. "How would that be?"

He removed his eyes from her and looked toward the crackling fire, unfocused as the flames danced in the hearth. "It would be the most wonderful thing in the world."

She leaned forward, then winced, trying to straighten her leg on the settee .

Oliver stood and helped adjust the pillow for her under her ankle.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded and returned to his chair, his mind racing around everything Grace had revealed about herself and her situation.

"Do you truly think marrying for love would be the most wonderful thing in the world? It sounds as if you know what it is like to be in love."

He nodded, there was no use denying it. "I have been in love before. Just once." His heart squeezed at the admission.

Grace's eyes grew wider. "What happened?"

"She got away," he said.

"She got away?" she asked, repeating his words.

He shook his head. "It's not important."

Grace's eyes softened, looking at him for a long while, as if trying to figure him out. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "I am sorry to hear it."

He swallowed. "Love is worth the heartache. In many ways they go together. Heartache has a way of filling in when love is lost."

"I once wished I would be able to marry for love."

"Then why not pursue it?" He looked at her, pushing away the pity he felt from her gaze.

"I've already told you about my family situation. My parents only have daughters. As the eldest, it is my duty to do what I can to secure their future comforts and happiness. Marriage for me is a transactional arrangement so that my sisters may have a better situation than I have been blessed with."

"That is very noble of you to sacrifice for your family in such a way."

"It is not a sacrifice when you love someone. It may not be the most desirable, but I am willing to do this for my sisters." She looked down at her ankle, sadness in her eyes. "That is why the ankle is so bothersome right now. Such rotten timing, and if it does not heal, I shall never have the opportunity to impress the duke."

He straightened at her words. For all of Society's rules, there was truth to them, and he hated that. "You think he only cares about dancing? Such a shallow thing to think."

"It is not that I think so shallowly of him , sir. It is the very fact that to attract attention one must stand out among others. But how can I stand out when I cannot even stand?"

He pressed his lips together, holding in a laugh at her wit.

"Do not laugh at me. It is not a laughing matter." She glared at him, completely helpless as she sat on the settee and huffed.

And then he did laugh. Grace was refreshing, and he couldn't help himself. The laugh filled his lungs and his soul. When he recovered himself, he dared look into her glaring eyes again. "I beg your pardon, Grace, but it was quite funny. Your pun about standing out and standing was quite witty. You'll have to say something equally amusing to the duke. "

She shook her head. "I doubt it would impress the duke."

"How would you know? You don't even know him."

"You're right. I don't know him." Her shoulders slumped slightly. "I was hoping to spend time with my cousins asking them all sorts of questions about him. That is why I wanted to arrive before the rest of the guests. But now I doubt there will be much opportunity to discuss the matter."

He laughed again. She was charming. "What do you wish to know of him?"

She raised her eyebrows, an unspoken look of hope filling her eyes. "Do you know him? And you have been keeping such a secret from me?"

He knew it was a bad idea to reveal anything, but she was intriguing, and the way she spoke to a complete stranger about her plans for ensnaring a husband he ought to take care. "Shouldn't you be concerned that if I know him, I will tell him of your scheme?"

She bit her lip. "I shouldn't fear something from you," she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "You said we are friends, and that you would do anything to help me."

"The help was in regard to your ankle and healing," he reminded her.

She looked him straight in the eyes, the question boring into him before she voiced it. "Are you going to tell the duke of my plans?"

" Tell him?" He glanced around the room. He was walking a very dangerous line. His eyes met hers again, and he noticed the crease between her brows. "No, I will not tell him. As you said, we are friends. I will not speak any of the words you've spoken to me."

The crease between her brows disappeared, a smile of relief forming on her beautiful pink lips. "Thank you, Ollie. You are a true friend."

He nodded. "Considering the circumstance upon which we've met, I do not think I would have credibility if I shared such personal matters with anyone, especially since revealing such secrets could create an even deeper problem."

"What is that?"

"Why, that you were alone with me in my cottage for more than a day, unchaperoned. With such gossip traveling about, I would be forced to marry you to save your reputation, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" He laughed at the joke between them. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he held his breath. The answer to the question was suddenly very important.

She colored, her cheeks turning into the hue of crimson roses budding against the white snow in the spring time. "I suppose it is a good thing you have already known what it is to love. I doubt you would be the kind of man who would be caught in such an arrangement."

He studied her for a moment. "I have been in love before, it is true. And I haven't thought about being in love ever again." At least that had been true earlier in the week. Now—now he wasn't so sure. He cleared his throat. "But love or not, no one truly wants to be coerced into the situation of marriage, do they?"

"I suppose no one does. And now you can see my point about wanting to choose who I will marry," she said.

He laughed. "Yes, but in so doing, do you want the duke to have the same choice?"

"Of course I would. I am not trying to trap or ensnare him. I wouldn't trick him into marrying me," she said, her nose raised in the air.

He nodded but didn't respond.

"Would you ever like to marry? So you don't live here all alone?" she asked.

He knew the question was a harmless one, but it was not without difficulty. He schooled his features, letting the mask fall on him like a comfortable cloak. Grace did not need to know that this was a hard question for him.

He brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket, as if the question meant nothing. "If I ever marry, it will be because I have given my heart to someone, and the only way to ensure the safekeeping of my heart would be to keep the woman by my side forever." He held her gaze, feeling strength in his answer. He hadn't known what he thought until he spoke the words, but he wouldn't take them back. He knew they were true.

She swallowed, then looked at her hands as they smoothed the blanket over her lap. "Your future wife will be lucky to have such a doting husband. What must that be like? "

"I think that's how you know you're living," he said softly, his gaze back on the hearth.

"It sounds like a fairytale, like one of those poems you read."

"A fairytale. Exactly." He jumped from his seat, wanting to pace the room back and forth, but with a guest here, he knew he couldn't. "Shall I prepare tea for you?"

"I should like that. Thank you, Ollie."

He was coming to love the sound of his name on her lips. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "You're welcome, Grace," he replied. Then he retreated to the small kitchen and took his time preparing the tea things. He told himself it was because he needed a little bit of space from this conversation, and not because he wanted everything to look perfect for his guest. He almost convinced himself.