Free The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) by Julianna Blake

them, worried about what everyone thinks. You had a wonderful man ready to spend his life with you, but you lost him because you dragged your feet—you cared too much about the fact that society would see him as unworthy.”
    “I never loved Dalton, so what did I lose?” Madeline tugged harder, surprised at her willowy sister’s strength. “Now, get out of the bed!”
    “You never gave him a chance,” Grace spat, yanking the covers back up. “He was a nice man.”
    “How nice was he, really? He threw me over just like Garrett through you over! Both of them should be as nothing in our eyes!” Madeline braced a foot against the bed. “Don’t make me get Clara up here! We’ll drag you downstairs, right in front of the servants!”
    “You wouldn’t dare. You’re too spoiled and proud to embarrass yourself that way. You always have been. So go on, find yourself a rich man to marry, who doesn’t love you. I’d rather die alone than marry just to impress people who care not a whit for us, in times of trial.”
    Furious, Madeline let go, and Grace fell back against the carved wooden headboard with a thud.
    “Ow!” Grace cried, reaching up to rub the back of her head.
    “You deserve it. How dare you speak to me like that? I came up here to help you, because I love you and I hate to see you doing this to yourself.”
    “You came up here to coerce me into leaving my room so Mother would stop nagging you.”
    “Very well. Wallow in your self-pity. But don’t expect Clara or I to carry you the rest of your life because you were too selfish to think about anyone else’s future but your own! We have a mother to care for. What will happen to her if Uncle decides he’s tired of looking after his wife’s sister? Will you let Clara and I bear that burden? And the burden of a spinster sister, as well? Think on that , while you wallow, dear sister.”
    She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, so angry that she stooped as low as slamming the door behind her.
    Madeline rushed down the steps, fetching her coat and ignoring her mother’s annoyed chiding about the noise. Instead, she swept past Miriam and left the house, slowing her steps as she descended to the sidewalk.
    She assumed a calm expression—her public face—as she slipped into her coat and buttoned it, then flipped up the collar against the wind and turned left, leaving the wind at her back.
    Of all the nerve...I try to help her, and she calls me spoiled and prideful? At least I’m not a selfish, melancholy brat. She stalked down the brick walk, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.
    It took two blocks of walking before she calmed down enough to think, and two more before she realized that it was she who was the brat, not Grace.
    Grace is right. I am spoiled. I lost Father, but she lost both Winston and Father in the span of a few months. And now she’s been spurned publicly by a man who—in addition to being unworthy of her—has thrown her over instantly for a better catch.
    That brought her up short. Why am I angry with Grace? She’s been through so much, I’m surprised she hasn’t taken to her room before this. I think of myself as a strong person, but I couldn’t have withstood all that she’s been through, and come out of it with as kind and patient a spirit as Grace has.
    But that spirit had been crushed—or at least temporarily bruised—and it killed Madeline to see it. And here I am, blaming her for taking time to get past it all!
    Garrett Gladstone was to blame for Grace’s melancholy.
    And Madeline knew exactly what she should do about it.

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
     
    Garrett slipped into the coat that the servant held out for him, shrugging it up onto his shoulders.
    Felicia Browning smiled up at him. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Gladstone. It’s been nice having you around again.” She lifted a hand to smooth her hair—an unnecessary gesture, as the glossy blonde locks had not dared stray