CHAPTER 16

August 1, 1916

Dear Grace,

I finally got a better job! In an office. I’ve also been volunteering with Reverend Burke at the church. He’s recruiting people to make care packages to send overseas to the soldiers. We’ve been knitting socks and scarves. With every stitch, I picture my Frank getting something clean and warm to wear in those dreadful trenches. I can’t believe he’s been gone nearly two years.

Grace had never before seen a building of such opulence.

When they arrived at Easton Towers, the hotel lobby had taken her breath away, but it couldn’t compare to the ballroom. A multitude of overhead chandeliers illuminated the large space, the crystal orbs shooting sparkling rays over the tabletops. The heady perfume of thousands of fresh-cut flowers permeated the entire area. Grace almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t all a delicious dream.

The one thing marring her total enjoyment of the evening, however, was the obvious hostility emanating from Mrs. Carmichael. If only the woman knew she had nothing to fear from Grace.

Nothing at all.

Despite the tension, Grace managed to enjoy the meal, which was one of the best she’d ever eaten. Filet mignon, roasted potatoes, asparagus, and glazed carrots, topped off with an amazing chocolate soufflé for dessert.

Throughout the feast, Virginia kept Grace amused, murmuring little tidbits about the different people who stopped by the table to pay their respects.

Grace took a sip of her tea, her gaze moving—as it had so many times that evening—to Andrew at the head table. He looked so official up there, so handsome and self-assured.

And so very far out of her league.

Just then he rose and walked to the microphone at the dais. Two brass stands held places of prominence on either side of the wooden structure. One contained a large red flag, presumably belonging to Canada, the other, a Union Jack, the flag of the British Empire.

Andrew pulled out several sheets of paper and laid them on the podium.

Grace’s heart raced. She gripped her hands together under the table, praying his speech would be as well received as the arrival of the soldiers had been.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ve enjoyed this delicious meal as much as I have. A big note of thanks to Chef Morrow, who did such a great job with the menu.”

The audience applauded.

“To begin, Mayor Church has asked me to extend his regrets that he couldn’t be with us tonight because he had a previous engagement. But he has assured us of a large donation from city hall on Monday.” The people clapped politely. “As you all know, the reason for holding this gala tonight is to pay tribute to the brave men who fought so hard in the Great War. Without them, heaven only knows where we would be today. To that end, I would like to introduce one of our guests for this evening. I invite Dr. Victor Fullman, the director of the Toronto Military Hospital, to come up please.”

More applause sounded as a dignified gray-haired man rose from the veterans’ table and made his way to the podium.

“You may notice that I’m not dressed in a military uniform,” the man began. “That’s because the army deemed me a little too long in the tooth for combat.” Light laughter ensued. “I am, however, the director of the Toronto Military Hospital where hundreds of soldiers have come in need of healing. My esteem for these heroes has only grown since meeting such stoic patriots.” He paused to look over at one table. “One such man has become a good friend and colleague, a man who served as an army medic and who was himself injured while attempting to save a fellow soldier. This man recovered in England and brought back with him some innovative therapy techniques, which he has put into practice at the hospital. He’s a very private man, but I hope you’ll help me encourage him to come forward and share a bit about his experiences. I give you Doctor Matthew Clayborne.”

Grace applauded while a tall, handsome man in uniform rose slowly from his seat. He walked forward with a slight limp to shake Dr. Fullman’s hand. From the way he stood staring over the crowd, focusing on no one, the medic seemed uncomfortable at being the center of attention. But then he began to speak, not about himself, but about the therapy techniques he used to help soldiers overcome their disabilities so they might go on to lead normal lives. His passion for his work shone through his words.

If Owen had survived his injuries, Grace would have wanted someone like Dr. Clayborne to treat him. The man exuded sincerity and integrity.

As did the man beside him. Andrew had done a fantastic job picking the men to honor tonight. Dr. Fullman and Dr. Clayborne took turns commending the soldiers at their table and highlighting their particular stories. Each one was more riveting than the next.

Grace’s heart swelled. Andrew had done it. He’d turned this event into a real tribute for the soldiers. When he stepped forward to present Dr. Fullman with a sizable check for the military hospital, she could barely keep her tears at bay. She didn’t think she could be any prouder—until Andrew began his next speech.

“The credit for this gala tonight must go to Mr. Paul Edison, who came up with the initial idea, and to Miss Cecilia Carmichael, who decorated this beautiful room.” He gestured for them to stand and waited while they acknowledged the audience’s applause. When the room quieted, Andrew shuffled the papers at the podium. “I would also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge a good friend who helped me when I was looking for a way to make this evening more meaningful.” For a second, his gaze caught Grace’s. “Her suggestions were wonderful and I thank her for them.”

Heat rushed into her face. Surely he wouldn’t mention her by name.

But he quickly turned back to his prepared speech, and Grace released a grateful breath.

“Many of you here have been touched by the war in one way or another,” he continued. “The Easton family is no exception. When the war broke out, my older brother, Frank, was one of the first people in line at the recruitment office. Some called him reckless, some called him patriotic. Only Frank knew his true motivation, but as his brother, I suspect a big part was the lure of adventure.” He smiled. “Frank always did seem too big for this world. Too filled with excitement for it to contain him.” He halted, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Grace glanced at Mr. Easton. He stared straight ahead, his mouth set in a grim line. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling except that she swore she saw the glisten of tears in his eyes.

Andrew cleared his throat. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was jealous of my brother. I tried three times in three different recruitment offices to enlist, but unfortunately due to some physical limitations”—he pushed his glasses up higher on his nose—“they deemed me unfit for combat. Frank made it seem like he’d won another contest, and this time his prize was a uniform and a helmet. If only his winning streak could have continued.”

Mrs. Easton let out a quiet sob and pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. Virginia too was weeping softly. Grace reached over to squeeze Mrs. Easton’s arm. She hadn’t counted on the toll Andrew’s tribute might take on his mother.

“Our one consolation,” Andrew went on, “was that Frank died a hero. During a particularly bloody skirmish, he went back to help an injured comrade, and in the process, was hit himself. He managed to get the man to safety, but unfortunately Frank succumbed to his injuries.” He stopped and took a quick sip of water, while the room murmured their sympathy. “Too many young men lost their lives in this conflict, but without them, we probably wouldn’t enjoy the same liberties we do now. So tonight we remember their sacrifice.” His focus moved to the table of veterans. “Once again, gentlemen, on behalf of the Easton family and everyone here, we thank you most sincerely for your service to our country.”

The people surged to their feet in a standing ovation. Mrs. Easton rose as well, clapping enthusiastically. Virginia and Grace followed suit, Virginia seeming unashamed of the wetness staining her cheeks. When Mr. Easton shook Andrew’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, Grace bit her lip to contain a fresh surge of emotion.

“Thank you for that fine tribute, Andrew,” he said in a gruff voice. “And now let us continue the evening with a celebration of victory and the end of the war. The orchestra is ready and waiting to entertain us, and those of you who wish to dance are invited to. And please help yourself to the dessert table, which shall remain available until midnight. Now, maestro, since everyone is already standing, let’s begin with the royal anthem.”

After the last strains of “God Save the King” faded, the orchestra began a waltz, and Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael were one of the first couples to join in the dancing. Grace sat back against her chair, content to watch all the colorful pairs swirling around the floor. The whole evening had been something out of a dream for her. She truly felt like Cinderella at the ball—except the handsome prince would never come for her.

Virginia nudged Grace from her musings. “Don’t look now, but I think Mr. Edison is heading your way.”

Grace glanced up. “He’s probably coming to speak to your mother.”

“Judging by the gleam in his eye, I’d say not.”

Mr. Edison strode up to the table and gave a small bow. “Good evening, ladies. I trust you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“We are indeed, Mr. Edison,” Mrs. Easton replied. “You and Cecilia have done an excellent job.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed to Virginia. “Miss Easton, you look beautiful as always. Where is your esteemed fiancé this evening?”

Virginia’s smile dimmed. “I’m afraid business has kept him away, although he may show up yet.”

“If I had such a lovely fiancée, you’d be hard-pressed to keep me away.” He turned his intense gaze on Grace. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction to your friend.”

The man was charming enough, but because Grace knew Andrew’s dislike of him, she didn’t allow his attention to sway her.

“Forgive my manners,” Virginia said. “Paul Edison, this is Grace Foley.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Foley. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Grace’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to be rude, but how could she get out of this situation without insulting him?

“I’m afraid she’s spoken for.” Andrew’s cool voice came from behind her shoulder, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine.

She turned slightly to see his blue eyes trained on Mr. Edison in what could only be described as a challenge.

Mr. Edison’s features hardened. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with the woman you hope to marry?”

“Cecilia has a queue of partners waiting for her. And besides, I owe this lovely lady a dance since I was the one who convinced her to come tonight.” He held out his hand to her.

The tension between the two men stretched like a slingshot.

Beside her, Virginia coughed, hiding a grin behind her napkin.

Grace repressed the urge to smack her arm. “Thank you, Mr. Edison,” she said, “but I must take advantage of Andrew while he’s free.” She smiled and placed her hand in Andrew’s. “However, I’m sure Virginia would love the opportunity to dance.” She winked at a flustered Virginia as she stepped away from the table.

With a hand at her elbow, Andrew led her toward the dance floor.

“You never told me you have a wicked side,” he whispered in her ear.

The warmth of his breath sent goose bumps along her arms. She turned to him with a light laugh. “I’m full of surprises once you get to know me.”

“Then I look forward to discovering all the intriguing facets of your personality.”

With a flourish, he whisked her onto the floor, placing one hand at the small of her back. Her breath caught in her lungs, his nearness doing crazy things to her pulse. As they moved to the melody, Grace gave thanks that her father had taught her to dance, even if it was only for the parish socials they used to attend. It meant she could at least keep pace with an accomplished dancer like Andrew.

She gazed up into the warm glow of his eyes and smiled.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he said. “That the evening hasn’t been too tedious.”

“Not at all. I’ve loved every moment, especially your wonderful speech. I’m so proud of you, Andrew. You’ve made this night very special for everyone involved.”

A hint of color infused his cheeks. “All thanks to you. Your suggestion was the spark I needed.”

His praise expanded within her, filling the hollow spaces with warmth.

“Was your father upset?” Surely the man could see how meaningful the evening had become with the additional guests and speeches.

“I don’t know. I’ll likely hear about it tomorrow though. He’s not the kind of person who appreciates surprises.”

His hand splayed at her back as he guided her around another couple. The music flared, and when the dance floor grew crowded, he pulled her closer. Heat from his body sent flutters through her midsection. With the scent of his woodsy aftershave filling her senses, she had to fight the urge to lean into the solid wall of his chest and lay her head on his shoulder. Her face grew heated at the direction her thoughts had turned. It wouldn’t do to show how he affected her. Especially if Cecilia happened to be watching.

She pulled back slightly and attempted to concentrate on their conversation, despite the intensity in his eyes that wreaked havoc with her senses.

Andrew gazed into Grace’s upturned face, so near and so alluring that he imagined tasting those perfect lips. The subtle floral fragrance of her perfume scented the air around them, intoxicating him.

“Andrew?”

He dragged his attention back. “Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“I asked if you think your father’s reaction to your speech was genuine?”

Andrew relived the moment where his father had praised him and actually given him the first show of affection since Andrew’s graduation from university. His chest tightened. “I believe it was. At least I hope so, since it might indicate that his view of my brother is softening.”

“That would be wonderful. Your mother was also greatly affected by your tribute.” Her eyes shone with moisture.

Once again, Andrew marveled at Grace’s deep capacity for compassion. Despite Mother’s aloofness toward her when she first arrived, Grace had treated her with the utmost respect.

“I hope it wasn’t too painful for you, remembering your brother,” he said softly.

“Just the opposite. It made me feel closer to Owen. He would have been very proud to see his fellow soldiers being honored in such a way. In fact, I might suggest doing something similar at home. Maybe not in a grand ballroom like this, but our community hall would do nicely.”

“You’re not planning on leaving us, are you?” Though he kept his tone light, his heart constricted at the thought of her returning to England.

“Not as long as Christian needs me. I intend to honor my commitment to you.”

The shimmering glow of her eyes held him captive. My commitment to you. The idea of her committing to him in a more personal manner warmed him to his core. What would it be like to have the love and respect of such a wonderful woman?

Andrew had noticed a slight softening in his father’s attitude toward Grace recently, even asking her several questions about her life in England at dinner one night. Could he eventually accept someone from a different social class into the family? Someone as thoughtful and kind as Grace?

The music ended and everyone stopped to applaud the orchestra’s performance. Andrew, though, could not make his arms release Grace to follow suit. They stayed locked together, staring at each other for several heart-stopping seconds until someone cleared their throat behind him.

Virginia moved into his line of vision. “Cecilia is headed this way,” she whispered, “and judging by the scowl on her face, you’re in for it.”

He suppressed a groan. Grace didn’t need to witness the scene that would likely follow. He bowed to her. “Thank you for the dance, Grace.”

“It was my pleasure.” She gave him a sad smile. “Time for Cinderella to return to the castle.”

With that odd comment, she slipped away through the crowd, leaving him to face Cecilia’s displeasure on his own.