For Her Love by Paula Reed

to own no one. What about a wife, Grace wondered. Would he prefer not to own her, as well? A wife was as good as property by English law. She had never spoken of it, not even to Matu, but there were reasons beyond her birth that she shied away from marriage. Reasons more unspeakable than her mixed blood that sometimes plagued her dreams in the form of a shadowy wraith in a nightshirt, speaking with a French accent.
    Still, she ran her hand over her hair and was dismayed to feel that it was its usual unruly tumble of curls. A glance at her skirts reminded her that she had donned one of her oldest gowns this morning. Unwittingly, she cast a desperate look at Matu, who grinned and tugged her back toward the house. Surely Captain Courtney would have business to discuss with her father. There would be plenty of time to set her looks to right.
    Well then, mayhap she would think on it.
    Grace sat patiently while Matu massaged in the hairdressing she had concocted of various fruit and seed extracts. It did a fair job of relaxing the curls and certainly made it easier to pull her hair up into one of the more fashionable styles of the day. Matu also chose her gown, a deep rust colored damask. Grace swallowed hard as she put it on. Well she knew the maid had chosen the dark fabric to make her skin seem paler.
    As she had expected, Captain Courtney and her father were sitting in the keeping room discussing the sale of Edmund’s goods and when next he might be in need of Courtney and Hampton Shipping’s services. Grace paused at the top of the stairs, listening, before descending to meet their guest.
    Below, Giles had been hard-pressed, as he sat and chatted with Welbourne, not to crane his neck and look around for the daughter. Edmund had said that Grace was upstairs “primping.” That seemed a good sign. A woman did not primp for a man she had no interest in.
    When he finally heard soft footfalls on the stairs behind him and he turned to greet her, he found himself masking a vague sense of disappointment. It seemed that she had nearly “primped” all of the charming curls right out of her hair. Then he smiled. It was a small sacrifice. The color of her dress would have left most women looking sallow, but Grace’s skin fairly glowed next to it. Her full lips were parted, begging a kiss, and her nose, slightly broader than most, lent her face a soft quality.
    Good God, man , he thought to himself, snap out of it! He was not here to have his head turned, yet again, by her extraordinary looks. He had come so that he might get to know her better.
    Grace stared back, then squelched a little smile. Why were she and Matu worried? So she was darker than some and her hair was wild. These things had yet to do anything but draw men to her all the more. For once in her life, the thought didn’t fill her with contempt for either herself or the man. Perhaps it was his boyish face. His admiration seemed more open, less insidious than other men’s had appeared. Again the word nice drifted through her mind and filled her with a soft, comfortable warmth.
    She moved across the room and lifted her hand in greeting. “How good to see you again, Captain,” she said, and noted with pleasure that he bowed low over the offered hand, but refrained from kissing it. She detested it when they did that.
    “Miss Welbourne,” he replied, “the pleasure is entirely mine.”
    “Nay,” Edmund interrupted, too cheerfully, “the pleasure is ours indeed. I’m happy that you’ve decided to accept our hospitality for the week.” He looked at Grace as he said this, his gaze heavy with meaning.
    “The week?” she asked.
    Giles stepped back. “Your father has extended his invitation, and as I told him, I’ve no pressing business just now.”
    A week? Suddenly the visit stretched ahead like an eternity. Whatever would she do with this man for a week? She furrowed her brow and silently reminded herself that if she was to consider marrying him, she had better