CHAPTER 11

After changing into her favorite teal dress with black lace trim, Virginia sat in front of her vanity mirror and tried to be patient while the maid fiddled with her hair. Mother had invited Basil to dine with them this evening, presumably because Andrew had told her that Cecilia would be joining them for dinner. The earth might cease rotating if the numbers of people at the table didn’t match.

“That will do. Thank you, Alice.”

“One more thing, miss.” Alice opened the jewelry box on the dresser and removed an emerald pendant. “This will be perfect with your dress.” She draped the necklace around Virginia and fastened the clasp behind her.

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Alice curtsied and quietly left the room.

Virginia studied her reflection in the mirror. Outwardly she portrayed the ideal upper-class woman. Elegantly coiffed hair, stylish dress and jewelry, perfect poise and grace. Yet somewhere deep inside, her soul yearned for more.

Marrying Basil would be considered a coup. He was a well-sought-after bachelor, wealthy, polished, and admired. And Basil was good to her, in almost every way that mattered. But life as his wife did not hold the appeal Virginia had once thought it would.

When Father had mentioned Basil’s interest in courting her, she’d been flattered. After all, once a woman reached her mid-twenties, she was often overlooked for younger, prettier girls. Basil’s suit seemed divinely timed as well, as though God had been showing her the direction she should take. Virginia had finally reached a place where she was able to put Emmett’s death behind her and move forward with her life. Only she hadn’t a clue where “forward” would take her.

And now Basil had made his intentions known. Virginia was afraid he might mention his plan to marry before their trip at dinner tonight in order to gain her parents’ support. Would they favor such a quick wedding? Virginia believed Daddy would, and Mother would not likely disagree with him.

With a quiet sigh, Virginia rose from her seat and walked to her bedside table. She opened the drawer and took out the single lavender rose she’d received earlier. Over the course of their courtship, Basil had sent her numerous bouquets of flowers, yet none could compare to this single rose, chosen for her by Collin from his beloved plants. After sharing only a few conversations, Collin seemed to know the innermost workings of her heart, whereas Basil never bothered to ask her opinion or her preferences. Nor did he listen when she offered them.

Was she being too picky, wanting her future husband to care about the things she valued?

Like what type of wedding she wanted? Or where they would live once they were married? Or if they would have children?

These were significant issues a couple ought to discuss before leaping into marriage.

She lifted the flower to her nose and inhaled its subtle fragrance. Daddy would tell her she was far too romantic for her own good. Marriage was a partnership, much like a business merger. One had to be practical about such matters. Still, her heart yearned for what it could never have. A penniless Scottish gardener with kind eyes and a spirited laugh.

With measured care, Virginia opened her Bible and pressed the rose, along with several others already there, between the pages containing her favorite verses from the Song of Solomon.

My beloved . . . said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come. . . .

Set me as a seal upon thine heart . . . for love is strong as death . . . the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.

She ran her fingers over the faded print. This was the kind of love Virginia craved. Passionate, powerful, and at the same time, sanctioned by the Lord.

That was another thing she admired about Collin. He was a staunch Christian, who practiced his faith in his everyday life. She’d never seen him angry or out of sorts. He was always kind and quick to offer assistance in any situation that arose in the Easton household.

She returned the Bible to her bedside table, then pulled herself up tall. No matter how uncomfortable, she planned to have a serious talk with Basil very soon, and make sure he understood how their married life would be if she agreed to marry him. He needed to know that she would not be content to sit quietly in a corner. That she wanted a large family and intended, God willing, to start having babies right away.

And if this didn’t suit him, he would have to find another woman who would fit more easily into his world.

Andrew had made a colossal mistake inviting Cecilia for dinner. Being included in such an intimate family gathering would give her the impression that he was ready to become more serious about their courtship, when in fact he was more uncertain than ever.

He ground his back teeth together, unable to deny that Paul Edison’s apparent interest in Cecilia had played a part in the impromptu invitation. Lately, Edison’s smug attitude had succeeded in getting under Andrew’s skin, making him react in ways he normally wouldn’t. It had to stop. From now on, he would simply ignore the troublemaker’s flagrant attempts to undermine him at every turn.

Andrew peered at his tie in the bedroom mirror and attempted to straighten it. His attire had to be perfect if he were to endure Cecilia’s scrutiny. He smoothed his hair back with a dab of petroleum jelly, making sure not one hair was out of place. When he felt his appearance would pass inspection, he removed his glasses and slipped them into the breast pocket of his jacket. No use riling her up by wearing those. He needed to set the proper tone for the evening right from the start.

He paused to consider one possible benefit of tonight’s dinner. Perhaps his father would see that his relationship with Cecilia was on solid ground, and maybe then he would lessen the pressure he’d been placing on him.

Squaring his shoulders, Andrew headed downstairs to the main level. He found his father and Basil Fleming in the library, enjoying a drink before dinner. Knowing Mother, she’d invited Basil to even out the couples, which suited Andrew fine, since Basil’s flamboyant personality would hopefully take the attention off him.

“Good evening, Father. Basil. Has Cecilia arrived yet?”

“I believe she’s in the parlor with your mother and Virginia.”

“Ah, good. That will keep her occupied for the time being.” He took a seat in one of the wing chairs beside his father, since Basil had taken over the sofa.

“I must say I was pleased to hear you’d invited Cecilia tonight,” his father said. “Spending more time together is the best way to move your relationship forward.”

The dinner bell sounded, thankfully sparing Andrew from any further lectures. The men rose and walked into the hall, just in time to see the women exiting the parlor.

“Good evening, Andrew.” Celia wound her arm through his. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.” She pouted her painted lips at him.

“Good evening, Cecilia. You look lovely tonight.” And she did. She wore a peacock-blue dress that hugged her figure in a manner bordering on risqué, tight at the bodice and hips but flaring out around her calves. Her blond hair was elegantly coiffed as usual with sparkly earbobs dangling almost to her shoulder.

She gave him a coy look. “I’m glad you noticed.”

They followed his parents into the dining room. Father helped Mother into her chair, then stood behind his own seat at the head of the table, waiting for everyone else to take their place.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and an out-of-breath Grace rushed into the room.

Father scowled. “Why is Miss Foley here when we have guests? She should take her meal with the servants tonight.”

Grace froze. Color bloomed in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I should have realized. Excuse me, please.” She started back out the door.

“That won’t be necessary.” Andrew moved swiftly to take Grace by the elbow and guide her to her chair. “This is a casual dinner, Father. There’s no reason for Grace to leave.” He met his father’s eyes and stared, unblinking.

Tension crackled in the air.

“Please don’t leave on my account.” Basil smiled. “One more lovely lady at the table will not be a hardship.”

“This is my fault,” Mother said. “I meant to inform Miss Foley about tonight’s arrangement, but it must have slipped my mind.” She wore a slightly bemused expression. “I’ll just ring for another place setting.”

Andrew frowned. Mother hadn’t been right lately. Frequent headaches. Forgetting appointments. He made a mental note to check how much medication the doctor had her on.

Father cleared his throat. “For tonight, we’ll let it pass. But in future, Miss Foley, if we’re having guests, you will take your meal with the staff.”

Andrew pulled out the chair for Grace with a smile, hoping to impart an unspoken apology for his father’s rudeness. “Please stay.”

“Yes, Grace, please do.” Virginia leaned forward.

Grace nodded and took her seat, her eyes downcast.

Andrew hated that his father had made her feel beneath them.

“Leave it to Andrew. Ever the gallant one.” Cecilia’s forced laugh did not fool Andrew for a moment. He knew she was incensed at the fuss he’d created over a mere servant. On social matters, she and Father were of the same mind.

Andrew took his place at the opposite end of the table, dismayed to note that Cecilia sat directly across from Grace. But there was little he could do about it without making more of a scene.

“That’s a lovely frock you’re wearing,” Celia said to Grace as the maids brought in the first course.

Andrew glanced at Grace. She did look lovely in a pale green dress adorned with a simple gold cross and chain.

Her cheeks were still quite flushed, but she managed a smile. “Thank you. When I heard there were to be guests for dinner, I thought I should wear something nice.”

“Nicer than your uniform, you mean?” Celia’s feigned casual tone didn’t fool anyone.

Grace just blinked, a pucker forming between her brows.

“Grace doesn’t wear a uniform,” Virginia told her. “Though I did advise her to wear an apron. Babies certainly are messy creatures.”

“Messy and noisy.” Cecilia actually shuddered. “Thank goodness for nannies to take care of all that.”

The maids began to serve the soup, and the conversation took a different turn, thanks to Basil.

Andrew breathed a little easier, yet his muscles remained tense, prepared for whatever else might arise. He barely tasted the clam chowder.

Soon the platters for the main course arrived, filling the room with the scents of roast beef and gravy.

“How are plans going for the gala, Cecilia?” Father asked once the food had been served.

Immediately Celia brightened. “We’ve made a great start so far. We’ll have to meet a few more times before we have all the details ironed out. In fact, I may need access to the ballroom to take some measurements.”

“Anytime, my dear. We are at your disposal.”

“I have so many ideas swirling in my head,” Celia continued. “It’s hard to settle on one. I may bring my mother with me. She has such a flair for design.”

“I have no doubt you’ll choose the perfect décor for the event.” Mother smiled at Celia. “You have the same good taste as your parents.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Easton.” Celia smiled, then turned to lay a hand on Andrew’s arm. “We all know Andrew will be no help at all, except for trying to keep us on budget.”

Her burst of overly loud laughter grated on Andrew’s taut nerves. “Someone has to keep an eye on the finances.”

“And no one is more qualified than Andrew, a fact his business diploma attests to,” Virginia said with a glare at Cecilia.

“Thank you, Ginny. I can always count on your staunch defense.”

“Speaking of defense,” Cecilia said to the table in general. “I’d like to hear everyone’s opinion on something.”

Her cat-that-ate-the-canary expression had Andrew immediately on guard.

“What about, dear?” Mother’s eyebrows lifted in question.

“I’m trying to convince Andrew to shave off his beard.”

Andrew held in a groan. Not this again. He thought he’d put the subject to rest once and for all.

“A face this handsome shouldn’t be hidden. Don’t you agree?” Cecilia reached out to run her fingers over his beard.

He had to fight not to slap her hand away.

“It’s bad enough him wearing those stodgy old glasses most of the time.” She laughed and shook her head.

“I agree.” Father gave Cecilia an approving nod. “Executives should be clean-shaven and neatly groomed. It’s more professional and inspires trust.”

Andrew’s stomach clenched as he struggled to keep his temper from slipping. Of course, his father would side with her. When had he ever taken Andrew’s side about anything?

“See, Andrew, darling, my idea has merit. Won’t you do it? For me?” She pinned him with a pleading gaze.

Irritation stiffened his spine. She had some nerve, trying to get his family to join forces against him. Shouldn’t a man be able to decide whether he shaved his face or not?

“I think Andrew’s beard suits him. If he likes it, it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

All heads swiveled in Grace’s direction, Andrew’s included. Her eyes widened in an almost apologetic look.

Cecilia scowled, and in the strained silence that followed, Father and Mother exchanged incensed glances.

“Thank you, Grace,” Andrew said quickly. “I am very fond of my beard, and I intend to keep it.” He was amazed at the courage it must have taken to speak out against everyone.

Cecilia tilted her head at a haughty angle that revealed her extreme displeasure. “I’ll wear you down yet, Andrew Easton. Mark my words.”

Though everyone thought she was joking, he knew she would keep badgering him until she got what she wanted. It was the way their whole relationship had gone from the start. And as he well knew, she wanted him to do a great deal more than shave off his beard. The fact that he hadn’t proposed yet was partly a stubborn rebellion to resist her manipulations.

Basil rose and cleared his throat. “This might be a good time for me to change the subject.”

Andrew could have kissed him for diffusing an awkward situation. Poor Grace still looked as though she wanted to crawl under the table.

“Go ahead, Basil,” Father said. “The floor is yours.”

The wattage of the man’s smile rivaled the chandelier above him. “It’s no secret that I have been courting Virginia for some time now. And that my family has invited her to join us on an extended trip to Europe this summer.” Basil reached in his pocket and took out a small box. “Now that I have your blessing, Oscar, I would like to make this official.” He opened the box to reveal a large diamond ring, then bent one knee to the ground. “Virginia, will you make me the happiest of men and marry me?”

A hush fell over the room awaiting her response.

Virginia pressed a hand to her mouth, her gaze remaining glued to the ring. Then she looked around the table in what seemed quiet desperation.

Andrew longed to jump in to help her, but he couldn’t tell if she was pleased or panicked.

“Go on, Virginia,” Mother said with a nervous laugh. “Don’t keep the poor man hanging.”

Virginia looked down at him and nodded. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”

Basil’s face burst into a relieved smile. He slipped the ring on her finger, then rose to kiss her.

A murmur of good wishes went around the table. Mother clasped Virginia’s hand and kissed her cheek. Father stood and shook Basil’s hand.

“How romantic.” Cecilia leaned over to whisper in Andrew’s ear. “Perhaps you should take a cue from your sister’s beau.”

Andrew’s smile felt encased in cement, as if one false move would cause it to crack wide open. He went to offer his congratulations to his sister and Basil. Ultimately, it didn’t matter whether Basil was his favorite person or not. If Virginia chose to marry him, Andrew would support her one hundred percent.

“I have one other idea to propose.” Smiling broadly, Basil draped an arm around Virginia’s shoulder. “I’d like us to marry before Virginia and I leave for Europe. That way the trip can serve as our honeymoon.”

Virginia’s smile faded. “We could never prepare properly in that short amount of time.”

“I’m sure if we put our minds to it,” Basil soothed, “we could—”

“No.” Virginia stepped from under his arm. “I will marry you, but not then. We’ll decide upon a date after our return from Europe.”

Andrew recognized that inflexible set to Ginny’s jaw. She’d made up her mind, and nothing would sway her now.

“Now, darling, let’s not be too hasty.”

Virginia crossed her arms. “My point exactly.”

Father laid a hand on Basil’s shoulder. “The first thing you need to learn, my boy, is when to back down.” He chuckled. “Let’s all retire to the parlor. I’ll open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” For the first time in ages, Mother was smiling. Virginia’s upcoming wedding would give her something positive to focus on instead of grieving for Frank.

Andrew should be relieved. He should be happy.

Yet as the group crossed the hall into the parlor, he couldn’t ignore the tightening in his gut, the feeling that something was amiss. He looked around and realized Grace was no longer there. In all the uproar, she must have slipped away.

“Andrew, are you coming?” Cecilia’s irritated voice snapped at his nerve endings.

He uncurled his fists, warring against the urge to seek Grace out and apologize for his family and Cecilia. After the rude manner in which she’d been treated, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. But to go after her would only cause more strife.

Reluctantly, he entered the parlor, unsettled to find that the rest of the evening held no appeal at all without her there.

Grace entered her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Only then did she release a breath from her bursting lungs. Perhaps it was rude to have left without saying good-night, but she couldn’t tolerate another minute of Cecilia Carmichael’s glares across the table. The woman seemed to take an instant dislike to her for some reason. And after Grace blurted out the comment about Andrew’s beard, the woman’s hostility had only increased.

Would Grace ever learn to hold her rash tongue?

She turned on the lamp by her bed and allowed the coziness of the room to soothe her shattered nerves. The chintz curtains, the pale pink quilt, and the plush carpet beneath her feet created a haven of comfort. Now that Christian was used to Grace, Virginia had returned to her own room, and Grace had moved into the nanny’s quarters, delighted to find them as charming as the room she’d just vacated. It even had a snug window nook, perfect for reading. Best of all, she was closer to her nephew, able to tend to him during the night if he needed her.

With a contented sigh, Grace allowed the last traces of tension to seep from her body. She quickly changed out of her good dress—or “frock” as Cecilia had called it—and put on her comfortable brown skirt and a blouse. Then she opened the connecting door to the nursery and went to check on the baby. The glow from the small lamp beside the rocking chair afforded her enough light to see him. Asleep on his back, the child’s perfect features were relaxed in slumber, giving him the look of an angel. She stood staring at the peaceful rise and fall of his tiny chest, then took a seat in the rocker, content just to be near him.

This was quickly becoming her favorite time of day, sitting vigil in his room for several hours before she went to bed. Sometimes she read, sometimes she knitted. But often she worked on the quilt Rose had started—one of the items Reverend Burke had turned over to Grace after informing her of Rose’s passing.

Most of Rose’s clothes had been donated to charity, but Grace had been happy to find her sister’s pink shawl among the items the minister had kept. Now draped around her shoulders, Grace envisioned it as a hug from her sister. Alone in the silence of this room, with Rose’s son sleeping beside her, Grace could drop all pretense and simply be an aunt and a grieving sister.

She opened the wicker basket at her feet and took out one of the squares, admiring Rose’s impeccable stitching. Grace recalled her sister trying to teach her the finer points of sewing and embroidery, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never match Rose’s skill. Still, she would do her best to finish the quilt Rose had been making for her son, certain that one day Christian would be grateful to have it.

Sometime later, Grace awoke from a light doze with a start. She blinked, trying to focus in the dim room, and was stunned to see Andrew standing by the crib.

“Andrew. Is anything wrong?” Grace straightened and smoothed a hand over her hair. Her cheeks heated at his scrutiny. How long had he been watching her sleep?

“Everything’s fine. I only wanted to check on Christian before I went to bed.” He put a hand on the rail. “Why are you here? Was he fussing?”

“Oh no. I just enjoy sitting here before I retire.” She stowed the fabric back in the basket and rose.

Andrew gazed down at the sleeping child, and a tender smile crept across his features. “When he’s asleep like this, I can see a strong resemblance to my brother. Frank would have been so proud.”

Grace moved closer. “I’m sure he would have.”

They stood in silence for a few moments. The faint glow of the lamp cocooned them in the cozy space. Grace could almost imagine they were Christian’s parents, looking in on their child, and her heart gave a tiny lurch. This was how she’d envisioned her future. With a man who took an interest in his child, who wanted to be home every night to tuck him in with a story or a lullaby.

Andrew turned to her. “Why did you disappear after dinner? I thought you’d want to celebrate Virginia’s good news.”

“It was a family celebration. I’m far more comfortable up here where I belong.” She reached to tuck the blanket around the baby’s legs, and her arm brushed Andrew’s. An odd tingle of awareness rushed through her.

“Virginia doesn’t view you as merely an employee. She considers you a friend. She would have loved you to be there.”

Grace’s throat tightened. She too was starting to consider Virginia a friend, but certain boundaries should not be crossed.

“It was Cecilia, wasn’t it? I know she made you feel uncomfortable and for that I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed.”

“She’s sometimes too opinionated, but underneath, she has a good heart.”

“I’m sure she must, or you wouldn’t be considering marrying her.”

He flinched. “Did Virginia tell you that?”

“It appears to be common knowledge among the household.” She forced herself to stare into the blueness of his eyes.

A frown creased his brow. “Marriage is what both our families want, but for now, we’re taking our time to see if we’re a good fit.”

Cecilia Carmichael seemed the last person who would fit with Andrew. Where he was steadfast and kind, she appeared superficial and shallow. Grace couldn’t imagine him being saddled with such a wife. The urge to say something burned through her, and though she knew she should hold her tongue, she couldn’t stay silent. “For what it’s worth, I believe if someone truly cares about you, they shouldn’t want to change you.”

A muscle tensed along his jaw. Had she offended him with her directness?

Andrew ran a hand over his beard. “I’ve learned it’s best to ignore some of what Cecilia says and things usually blow over.” He turned his intense gaze on her. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for your support earlier. It took courage to speak up that way.”

Heat flashed up her neck. “I tend to say what’s on my mind, often to my own detriment. I hope I didn’t cause any problems for you.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle Cecilia. And my father.”

She moved to retrieve her shawl from the rocking chair. “Well, I should turn in.”

“Before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” Andrew stepped toward her, and the clean scent of his soap met her nose. “You’re free to take Sundays as a day off each week. Virginia and I will take care of Christian on those days.”

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to ask about that.”

“If you’d like to attend church, you’re welcome to join our family at the cathedral. The architecture alone will take your breath away.”

Somehow she couldn’t picture Mr. Easton welcoming her in their family pew. “I would love to see the cathedral one day, but I’ve promised my former landlady I’d spend Sundays with her when I can. She brought me to her church when I first came here.”

“Which one is that?”

“Holy Trinity. Not as grand as your cathedral I’m sure, but the parishioners were very welcoming. Quite a few people from Britain attend there.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’ve found somewhere you feel comfortable. Now I will go and let you get your rest. Good-night, Grace.” He started toward the door.

“Andrew?” An inexplicable force urged her to prolong their connection for even a few more seconds. Did he feel it too?

He turned back. “Yes?”

“For the record, I don’t think your glasses are stodgy. I think they make you look rather distinguished.”

The intensity of his stare bore through her. “You’re the first person to say that. I’ve always felt self-conscious wearing them.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.” His gaze locked with hers.

It seemed to hold her in place like a magnet until she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Good-night, Andrew,” she said at last.

Before he could respond, she slipped through the connecting door to her room and closed it behind her with a soft click.