Free Christopher's Medal by S.A. Laybourn

a couple of weeks. I didn’t think anyone else would be terribly interested in what we had to say to each other.”
    Grace covered his hand with her own, curling her fingers through his, and wondered how she would survive seven courses of Pippa and her obvious desire to be a pain in the arse. Luckily, the person sitting next to Christopher had a loud voice and launched into a long, labored story, which no one could ignore because no one else at the table was able to talk in the meantime. He kept the table tied up for the next three courses, shutting up only when the pineapple sorbet was replaced by the main course.
    “How long have we been here?” Christopher whispered while he stabbed at a potato.
    Grace glanced at her watch. “It’s only been an hour and a bit.”
    “It seems longer than that.” His leg shifted against hers. “I’ll make this weekend up to you, Gracey, I promise.”
    “It’s all right.” For the moment it was. “It’s enough that we’re in the same place at the same time.”
    “Thank you.” He kissed her cheek.
    “So, Faith, how did the two of you meet?” Pippa picked up her wine.
    “ Grace and I met at the races. A family friend introduced us.” Christopher’s voice was tight.
    “Can’t Grace answer for herself?”
    “I can answer perfectly well, thanks, when I’m addressed by my name.” Grace smiled. She tightened her fingers around her fork and fought an urge to stab Pippa’s hand. “Yes, we met at the races. It was a very pleasant evening.”
    Paddy reached across the table for the salt. “Pippa, I swear you’re nosier than Emma.”
    “I’m just interested, that’s all.”
    “It’s all right.” Grace sipped her water. “Pippa is perfectly entitled to ask questions, since she’s curious. I don’t mind. After all, I’m a stranger here. My father trains horses and I’m his assistant. It’s a good job.”
    “Do you have any good horses?”
    “All of our horses are good.” Grace speared a piece of carrot.
    “Yes, come on, Grace.” Paddy helped himself to more wine. “Got any good tips for us?”
    “Not at the moment. When I do, I’ll be sure to ask Chris to pass them on to you.”
    “Ugh.” Pippa curled her lip at Paddy. “Don’t tell me you’d actually go into one of those dreadful, seedy little betting shops.”
    “Of course I bloody would. If you had mess bills like mine, you’d lower yourself to make a bit of spare cash too.”
    She shuddered. “Happily, I don’t have that problem.”
    “Ah, yes, of course, you’re a trust-fund baby. You don’t have to worry about earning a crust like the rest of us mere mortals.” Paddy’s voice had an edge to it.
    Grace studied her dinner with more interest, grateful when Christopher’s leg rested against hers. She was even more grateful when Emma’s father decided that a few toasts were called for. By the time the toasts and impromptu speeches were finished, they were down to the coffee and port and Pippa was complaining bitterly to the person seated on her other side.
    “I sat next to the most dreadful people at a restaurant the other day. I don’t know how they could afford to eat there. She was so common, I mean white stilettos for heaven’s sake. Who wears those outside of Essex? I don’t want to spend a small fortune on a lovely meal and listen to a bunch of dreadful little tarts talk about their chavvy boyfriends. Honestly, I think restaurants need to be a bit more discerning about who they let in…”
    “I’m sorry about all of this.” Christopher’s lips were warm on her ear.
    “Don’t be. It’s certainly been an experience.” Grace let her hand glide along the inside of his thigh.
    “Minx,” he murmured. “Don’t think we’re retiring to the drawing room for drinks.”
    “I certainly hope not.”
    “We can slip away and no one will notice.” His voice was rich with promise.
    Grace crossed her legs and fought with the desire that rose at his touch. She glanced around the