very idea made her shudder, and the resulting sharp poke in her thigh made her wince.
“You must hold still!” the seamstress demanded in a lilting French accent that came out quite gargled given the number of pins she was currently holding between her lips.
Turning her head ever so carefully to the side, Grace looked pleadingly at Catherine. She had never possessed the patience it required to stand still for hours on end while fabrics were measured and gowns plucked on and off at a dizzying rate. Heavens knew how much time had elapsed since they first came into the dress shop. Her growling stomach told her it had been quite a while, and she sighed in relief when Catherine clapped her hands together and motioned for the seamstress to finish up her measuring and pinning so they could discuss the creation and delivery of Grace’s new wardrobe.
Stepping down off the fitting pedestal, Grace held her aching arms up a moment longer and leaned forward so that Margaret and Josephine could slip on the dress she had arrived in. It was one of her newer ones: a plain blue muslin with an empire waist and sleeves that gathered just above the crook of her elbow.
“Do you think we might have time for a nip of tea at Twinings?” she asked hopefully once they had made their way outside. The sun beamed down, and all four women automatically adjusted the brims of their hats to ensure their faces were shaded and their porcelain complexions protected.
In just a few days London had shed the last remnants of winter and burst into full bloom. Tulips were emerging from the dark, dusky soil at a rapid rate and bright green buds clung to the tip of every tree. A sense of hope and renewal lingered in the air, giving it a sweet, earthy scent which Grace readily inhaled. She did so love this time of year. Were it not for the endless balls and soirees and luncheons, it would have been her favorite.
“I do not have anywhere to be,” Josephine said.
“Nor do I.” With a beaming smile Margaret linked her arms around her belly. “And since I am now eating for two…”
“Twinings it is,” Catherine decided.
Arm in arm, the four women set off for London’s premiere tea shop. Only Grace, a faint line of worry between her brows and a knot of anxiety in her stomach, turned to look behind them. In the shadows cast beneath the awning of the dress shop she thought she saw a hauntingly familiar pair of green eyes… But when she blinked they were gone, leaving her as suddenly as they had all those months ago. Drawing a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she pasted a smile on her face and tried in vain to think of anything but Stephen.
As usual, she failed miserably.
Stephen watched Grace walk away from him in silence. He studied her as a starving man might a table heavy with food; his piercing eyes letting no detail go unseen, from the gentle sway of her hips to the way her ivory skin seemed to glow under the sunlight. He knew she always assumed she faded into the background when amidst her friends, and there was no denying the other women’s striking beauty. And yet… And yet from the very beginning it had been Grace and Grace alone that drew his eye; her quiet, unassuming nature sparkling bright as a sea shell on a beach of stones.
It would be quite simple, the Earl mused, for one to easily overlook the shell in favor of a stone. After all, the shell was different. It did not blend in with the rest. To most, it stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. But not to him.
Never to him.
His arms ached to hold her. To wrap her against his chest and kiss away her tears and never let her go again. Only the painful knowledge that he no longer deserved her love, her light, or her laughter stopped him and when she hesitated and glanced back as if innately drawn to the spot where he was standing, Stephen stepped into the shadows of his own accord.
“A fool,” he growled, his hands clenching to fists and burrowing deep in the
“You must hold still!” the seamstress demanded in a lilting French accent that came out quite gargled given the number of pins she was currently holding between her lips.
Turning her head ever so carefully to the side, Grace looked pleadingly at Catherine. She had never possessed the patience it required to stand still for hours on end while fabrics were measured and gowns plucked on and off at a dizzying rate. Heavens knew how much time had elapsed since they first came into the dress shop. Her growling stomach told her it had been quite a while, and she sighed in relief when Catherine clapped her hands together and motioned for the seamstress to finish up her measuring and pinning so they could discuss the creation and delivery of Grace’s new wardrobe.
Stepping down off the fitting pedestal, Grace held her aching arms up a moment longer and leaned forward so that Margaret and Josephine could slip on the dress she had arrived in. It was one of her newer ones: a plain blue muslin with an empire waist and sleeves that gathered just above the crook of her elbow.
“Do you think we might have time for a nip of tea at Twinings?” she asked hopefully once they had made their way outside. The sun beamed down, and all four women automatically adjusted the brims of their hats to ensure their faces were shaded and their porcelain complexions protected.
In just a few days London had shed the last remnants of winter and burst into full bloom. Tulips were emerging from the dark, dusky soil at a rapid rate and bright green buds clung to the tip of every tree. A sense of hope and renewal lingered in the air, giving it a sweet, earthy scent which Grace readily inhaled. She did so love this time of year. Were it not for the endless balls and soirees and luncheons, it would have been her favorite.
“I do not have anywhere to be,” Josephine said.
“Nor do I.” With a beaming smile Margaret linked her arms around her belly. “And since I am now eating for two…”
“Twinings it is,” Catherine decided.
Arm in arm, the four women set off for London’s premiere tea shop. Only Grace, a faint line of worry between her brows and a knot of anxiety in her stomach, turned to look behind them. In the shadows cast beneath the awning of the dress shop she thought she saw a hauntingly familiar pair of green eyes… But when she blinked they were gone, leaving her as suddenly as they had all those months ago. Drawing a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she pasted a smile on her face and tried in vain to think of anything but Stephen.
As usual, she failed miserably.
Stephen watched Grace walk away from him in silence. He studied her as a starving man might a table heavy with food; his piercing eyes letting no detail go unseen, from the gentle sway of her hips to the way her ivory skin seemed to glow under the sunlight. He knew she always assumed she faded into the background when amidst her friends, and there was no denying the other women’s striking beauty. And yet… And yet from the very beginning it had been Grace and Grace alone that drew his eye; her quiet, unassuming nature sparkling bright as a sea shell on a beach of stones.
It would be quite simple, the Earl mused, for one to easily overlook the shell in favor of a stone. After all, the shell was different. It did not blend in with the rest. To most, it stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. But not to him.
Never to him.
His arms ached to hold her. To wrap her against his chest and kiss away her tears and never let her go again. Only the painful knowledge that he no longer deserved her love, her light, or her laughter stopped him and when she hesitated and glanced back as if innately drawn to the spot where he was standing, Stephen stepped into the shadows of his own accord.
“A fool,” he growled, his hands clenching to fists and burrowing deep in the
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