Free A Gentle Grace (Wedded Women Quartet) by Jillian Eaton Page A

stains on your new dress?”
    Unable to meet her mother’s piercing gaze in the mirror, Grace ducked her chin. “I do not remember,” she mumbled.
    “You do not remember. Oh, Grace, what am I going to do with you?” Henrietta released a dramatic sigh and shook her head woefully back and forth. “You are such a troublesome child. Sweet as a newborn lamb, but exceedingly troublesome. Why you cannot act more like Rosalind is beyond me.”
    Grace wrinkled her nose as she thought of her baby sister who was an angel in public and the very devil when she thought no one was watching. “I do not want to be like Rosalind. I want to be like me.”
    “Yes, well, I do suppose you managed to attract the attention of… What is Lord Melbourne, precisely? A Duke?” Henrietta asked hopefully.
    “No, not a Duke.”
    “Oh, very well. I do suppose that was a bit far fetched. A Viscount, then.”
    Disguising her laughter with a well timed cough, Grace shook her head. “No, Mother, he is not a Viscount either.”
    Henrietta stopped brushing all together to put her hands on her well rounded hips. “Well then, what is he?” she demanded.
    “An Earl,” Grace said. “The Earl of Terraview, I believe.”
    “The Earl of Terraview,” Henrietta mused. Setting the brush aside, she expertly swept Grace’s hair back into a simple twist at the nape of her neck and secured it with a yellow ribbon that matched her dress. “Well, I suppose that is better than a Baron. Pinch your cheeks, dear. You look a little pale.”
    Grace did as she was asked, and listened obediently to her mother as Henrietta continued to issue orders even as they made their way down the stairs towards the drawing room where Stephen had been kept waiting for more than half an hour.
    “Do not discuss any personal matters… Do not eat in front of him… Remember to sit up straight… Smile, but not too much… Laugh, but not too loudly… Do not fidget… Make sure to cross your ankles... Sit with your hands—”
    “Mother, stop it ,” Grace hissed, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment when they reached the door and she saw it was slightly ajar. Sound carried easily through the thin plaster walls of the old house, and she had no doubt her suitor had heard every single word Henrietta uttered. How completely mortifying.
    “I am trying to give you advice, dear.”
    “Yes, but Lord Melbourne can hear you.”
    “A gentleman never eavesdrops. Do they, Lord Melbourne?” Pushing the door open, Henrietta walked briskly into the room and offered the Earl a beaming smile. He rose from his chair at once and bent at the waist in a lavish bow that caused Henrietta to giggle and Grace to roll her eyes.
    “They do not, Lady Deringer,” Stephen said. Straightening, he leveled those leaf green eyes directly at Grace, and she felt her face changing color all over again.
    How could one look, so innocent from the outside, turn her insides to jelly? She thought desperately of something to say, an amusing comment, perhaps, or a witty observation, except when she opened her mouth no sound came out, which was quite unusual. Grace was many things, but at a loss for words was not one of them. Thankfully, she had inherited her penchant for aimless chatter from her mother, and Henrietta was most definitely not lacking in mindless conversation or cringe-worthy questions.
    “I say, Lord Melbourne, are you staying with acquaintances or relatives in the area?”
    “Mother,” Grace groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead.
    “What?” Wide-eyed, Henrietta glanced at her daughter and frowned. “It was only a simple question.”
    One intended to find out if Lord Melbourne is wealthy enough to have his own estate in the country , Grace thought silently. She had tried to explain ages ago that she wanted to marry for love, not money, but Henrietta would have none of it. Marry for both if you can, her mother had said, or marry for money if you can’t, but never, ever marry just for