Saving Grace (39 page)

“Are the Sutherlands not friendly — not kind?” Grace asked. She remembered Nicholas’s temper those first weeks and how Kingsley seemed to take the brunt of it. But lately …

I have heard him speak words of appreciation. I cannot recall when last I saw him upset.

“Do Lady Sutherland and her son not care for those who serve them? Do they not have some tenderness of heart for their well-being?”

Mrs. James glanced around the foyer, clearly discomfited by the question. “It is not my place to say anything about my employer. Now if you’ll excuse me —”

“I will not.” Grace drew herself straight and folded her arms across her chest. “Whether either of us fully appreciates the situation, it is quite possible that I am here to stay, that I will be mistress of Sutherland Hall. And if that happens, I will not live like this. I cannot tiptoe around strangers in my own home, and I will not watch them slaving away while I sit idle. I do not care what society deems proper. It is
wrong,
and I will not have it. Now, put me to work.”

Mrs. James opened and closed her mouth twice, then stared at Grace a good, long minute before she spoke. And when she did, it was in a voice Grace had not heard from her before, one that hinted at admiration and possibly even respect. “The holly was delivered today. It needs to be strung along the banisters. I suppose you might do that.”

Grace beamed at her. “Thank you.”

Mrs. James nodded toward the front door. “The crates are there. I’ll ask Mr. Kingsley to find someone to open them for you.”

“Thank you,” Grace said again, filled with delight at the prospect of decorating the house with fragrant boughs.

“And the tree,” Mrs. James continued, “is to arrive in the next few days. It will need to be trimmed.”

“Of course,” Grace said.
A Christmas tree.
They’d only ever had one at Grandfather’s, and it had made the entire season more enchanting.

Mrs. James gave one of her curt nods of dismissal and turned to go, then seemed to think the better of it. She looked at Grace once more. “I do not think ill of you. Because of you, Sutherland Hall is returning to how it used to be. The master is returning to himself. If you never do any work again in your life, know that what you have done here is enough.”

“Thank you,” Grace said to Mrs. James’s back as the woman took her starched dress and sensible shoes marching across the foyer.

Grace hummed contentedly as she worked, draping the heavy boughs down the curved banister. With Kingsley’s help, she had festooned the upstairs rail with evergreens and ribbon and was now working her way down the stairs. With the holly already in place and held secure by Kingsley at the bottom of the stairs, Grace wove the ribbon carefully throughout, standing back frequently to scrutinize her work, to ensure Lady Sutherland would be pleased. Descending backwards, Grace concentrated on her task, intent on bending each bough just the right way and tying the red bows perfectly. Her heel bumped against something, and she turned, an apology upon her lips, meeting not Kingsley’s startled gaze but Nicholas’s purposeful one.

“Oh!” Grace exclaimed, bringing a hand to her heart. “You startled me.” He was very near, only one stair away.
Far too close.

“Kingsley had other duties to attend to,” Nicholas said, a merry twinkle in his eyes. “I told him I would help you finish.”

“Oh?” Grace said. She returned her attention to the ribbon and was irritated to discover her fingers shaking. “Could you move, please?” she asked, glancing at Nicholas, so close that she was practically in his arms.

“If I must,” he said, sounding highly amused. “This is where Kingsley told me to stand, but if that is not of help ...”

“It is not,” Grace snapped. With a gallant bow, Nicholas stepped aside, and the remaining, unrestrained holly, slid from the banister.

Grace pursed her lips together. “That is not what I meant.”

“Perhaps you should be clearer in explaining what you wish,” Nicholas said. “It is rather infuriating to us men when we are left guessing.”

Grace had no response to that other than the pulse throbbing in her ears.
What I want,
she thought furiously,
is for him to be gone.
A lie if ever she’d told one. She gripped the banister, willing her emotions under control, but they would not be so easily heeled.

Nicholas restrung the holly and held it in place farther down the rail. Grace resumed her work with the ribbon and began humming a carol, attempting to bring to mind Christmases past. With no little sorrow, she realized this would be her first Christmas away from Helen and Christopher.

I shall have to visit Samuel,
she realized.
It is the only way to discover how my siblings are getting on.

While she decorated and hummed, another voice had joined in, singing the words of the carol soft and low. Grace paused, listening to the rich timbre, and her heartbeat escalated. She turned on the stair, leaning closer to better hear.

Nicholas stood on the bottom step, and he grinned when he noticed her watching him sing. “‘Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green.’” He plucked a stray stem of holly and twirled it in his fingers.

Grace laughed. She’d never seen him like this, would never have imagined that he sang Christmas carols.

“‘Here we come a-wassailing, so
fair
to be seen.’” He took the steps two at a time until he stood before her; then he tucked the bit of holly behind her ear. His eyes were full of intent, his gaze focused on her lips.

Grace licked them then realized what she had done, what she was doing.
What I must not do.

“‘Love and joy come to you —’” Their eyes met, and Grace found she could not look away. Nicholas’s hand slid from her hair to caress her cheek.

She reached up, covering his hand with her own, pressing it to her face for just a few seconds.
Surely a few seconds won’t hurt anything.

“Love and joy,” Nicholas repeated, no longer singing.

No,
Grace thought.
They do not go together. You might have one for a brief time, but never the other.
She pulled his hand from her face and turned away.

“And God bless you,” Nicholas said quietly. “And send you a happy new year.”

Will it be happy?
She did not see how it could be.
Will I be gone and thinking of Nicholas and missing him every day? Or will I be here and still living with this temptation?
She did not think she could endure it much longer. Sooner or later, if she stayed, she would give in to her yearnings for him.
I will give him my heart. I am weak as Mother was. And what consequences will I suffer for that weakness? What consequences I am already suffering.

“And God send you a happy new year,” Nicholas repeated.

“No more carols, please.” Grace pushed past him and hurried down the stairs. “I am nearly out of ribbon,” she said by way of an excuse. “I must find more.” She sat near the bottom of the staircase and began rummaging through the open crate.

The heady smell of pine cleared her mind and steadied her heartbeat.
I must be strong. I must not get close to him again. Remember last time.

“Let me help.” Nicholas was suddenly behind her, his hands searching with hers through the packing. Grace pulled back, allowing him the task to himself, lest they touch accidentally.

After a moment, he withdrew a thinner, looped, red ribbon. “What is this?” He pulled the ribbon from the box. Hanging from it was a ball of green, a plant different from the holly, with small waxy leaves and white berries.

“It is a kissing ball.” Lady Sutherland’s voice rang across the foyer. She swept toward them, her skirts swishing across the polished floor. “I thought it might be fun to hang at the entrance to the ballroom. Everyone knows that any young lady standing beneath the mistletoe cannot refuse to be kissed. And everyone will pass beneath it.
”

Everyone
, Grace thought feeling a little faint.

“It is said that if a couple in love exchanges a kiss under the mistletoe, it is a promise to marry and a prediction of happiness. You had best be careful, Nicholas,” Lady Sutherland said, “that Beatrice Middleton does not find you there. She may take to kissing you on her own.”

“Who is Beatrice Middleton?” Grace asked before she quite realized what she was doing. She quickly returned to searching the crate, pretending indifference.

“She is a neighbor of many years,” Lady Sutherland said. “She and Nicholas grew up together, and she has had designs on him for some time now. Her mother confided in me that Beatrice and her sisters are all agog over our ball.”

“And why might you be confiding that to us?” Nicholas asked, sending a pointed look at his mother. Grace continued to feign a lack of interest, when inside she was anything but disinterested. What did this Beatrice Middleton look like?

Does Nicholas care for her?
That they had a history together long before Grace had arrived was obvious, and the fact stirred a feeling all too close to jealousy within her.

“Nicholas, will you hang the kissing ball for me?” Lady Sutherland asked. “The ladder is still in front of the doors from the dusting earlier.”

“Of course.” That he sounded a bit irritated about the whole thing did much to soothe Grace’s mood. He carried the mistletoe off with him, walking toward the ballroom at the far end of the hall.

Grace located the remaining ribbon in the box, intent on finishing the banister alone.

“I’ll do that,” Lady Sutherland said, taking the ribbon from Grace’s hands. “Go hold the ladder for Nicholas. He was always clumsy as a boy. It would be just like him to fall and break his leg before the ball.”

This was the first negative thing Grace had ever heard the dowager say about her son, and it perplexed her greatly. She’d never seen any evidence that Nicholas was clumsy and imagined him quite capable of hanging a simple decoration of his own accord. But not wanting to strain the polite nature she and Lady Sutherland had arrived at in their interactions, Grace left the stairs and headed toward the ballroom, her steps dragging across the foyer; she hoped Nicholas might already be finished before she arrived.

Instead, it appeared that he was waiting for her.

“Will you hold this while I put the nail in?” He held the kissing ball out to her.

Grace took it and held the ball away from her, as if it were a dead rodent. She would have to take care to enter the ballroom quickly, either before or after Nicholas. And she would have to leave the same way.

Doubtful, at best
, she concluded, as the ball was for him to present her to society.

He will want me at his side. And if I am not there ... will Miss Middleton be?
Grace wasn’t certain which possibility concerned her more.

“I’m ready.” Nicholas held his hand out. Grace gave the ball to him, then stepped quickly away.

“Are you so superstitious, then?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Only when kissing is involved,” Grace said.

“Nothing bad will come of it, you know.” Nicholas fastened the ball upon the nail above the doorway. “In spite of what Mother might have hinted at, I’ll not be kissing any other young ladies on Christmas Eve.”

Any
other,
he’d said.

Does he intend to kiss one? Me?
She took another step away.

Nicholas jumped down from the ladder and stood back to admire his work. “It’s festive, at least,” he said, then cast a sly glance her direction. “Shall we try it out?”

“We shall not,” Grace said, whirling away from him. “You have had your kiss from me, Nicholas Sutherland, and I suggest you remember it well, because you are not likely to get another anytime soon.”

“Another gingerbread man, please.” Grace leaned away from the ladder, her hand outstretched.

Nicholas placed the homemade ornament in her hand then continued to hold onto her until she had righted herself and was balanced once more.

“I still say it ought to be me on that ladder,” he said, feigning grumpiness. “The way you are leaning and stretching up there, you’re likely to fall and break your pretty neck.”