Undisturbed snow lay all about them, glistening in the sunlight. It was so bright she had to squint to look at it. A plopping sound resonated to her right as a clump of snow fell from a tree limb. Despite the cold, birds chirped in the trees. A brilliant red cardinal swooped by and landed on an evergreen to their left.
It was a tight fit for the sleigh every time they passed through a grouping of trees, but the view was magnificent.
“This path is usually used for walking and the occasional horse,” Lord Gladsby said. “We could have taken the main road, but I thought this less traveled route might be a prettier ride today.”
In other words, he did not want to pass anyone on their way, which could be understood in two ways. Either he was worried about being alone with her and what others might say, or he wanted to be alone with her and this was the most convenient way. Was it possible he was in league with Anthony and Bradley?
She dismissed the thought as soon as it entered. If Lord Gladsby wanted something, he’d get it. From all she’d seen of him, he was firm and decisive. He did not need his friends to play matchmaker.
She glanced up as the sun shined through the ice drippings, creating scattered bits of rainbow. “It is a beautiful path. I especially enjoy the icicles on the trees. They remind me of my father.”
“How so?”
“When I was little, I’d beg him to fetch an icicle for me to eat. Of course, as a child, I did not understand which ones were clean and which were not. Honestly, they are probably all quite dirty, but my father would say, ‘Wait for the clear ones, Grace. You cannot trust the murky ones.’ It took time to tell the difference, but when I’d find one he’d give in, and with a chuckle reach up, break it off and”—she cleared her throat and sniffed back the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes— “present it to me like I was a queen.”
The crunch of the horse’s hooves on the snow was the only sound that met her ears. She glanced at Lord Gladsby. His mouth was flat as he stared straight ahead. Had she offended him?
She nibbled the inside of her lip for a moment before gaining the courage to speak. “I’m sorry. I’d not meant to become emotional.”
He glanced down. “You needn’t apologize. It is obvious you miss him. I was only lost in thoughts of my own father.”
She waited patiently, hoping he’d explain, but he simply redirected his gaze to the path in front of them. The rest of the drive was too silent for Grace to be comfortable. While she did not mind quiet, this felt tense, as if she’d suddenly sailed into turbulent waters and any movement she made would capsize their tenuous friendship.
When the horse stopped in front of the cozy-looking stone home, she started to remove the robes on her lap.
“What are you doing?” Lord Gladsby asked.
“I… I thought I’d come inside with you. Since Lord Hamdon is not here, I see no reason to wait outside in the cold.”
“Are you not concerned for your health?”
“No. I also do not think Mr. Clayton will be up to new introductions, so I will remain in the parlor. I can speak with thehousekeeper while you are visiting and perhaps suggest a tisane that might help.”
His eyes roved over her face, his mouth slightly open. She thought he might protest, but he clamped his lips closed and nodded. Stepping out of the sleigh, he grabbed the horse’s lead and tied it to a post. With the horse secured, he returned to help Grace alight.
A set of footprints in the snow leading to and from the front steps showed someone must have already come to call. A strange sight for this early in the morning. Then she remembered Lord Gladsby’s talk of a doctor. The man had probably already been by to check on his patient.
Inside the house, she was directed to a small sitting room as Lord Gladsby made his way upstairs. The housekeeper proved to be a resourceful woman with a far greater knowledge of home remedies than Grace herself possessed. They talked at length about various herbs until His Lordship returned.
When they were again situated in the sleigh, Lord Gladsby surprised her by pulling the lap robes over them both, instead of placing them individually, as he had before. It really was a small thing, but much more intimate than she’d expected after the initial ride over. A flutter filled her chest, and she had the urge to sidle closer to him but resisted. They were just friends, she reminded herself.
“Miss Lenning, I must apologize,” he said when the horse started to move. “I am afraid I made you feel uncomfortable with my silence on the way here.”
“I—” What could she say? If she acknowledged his words, he might think she always needed to be coddled with entertainment. But if she did not, she might lose the chance to find out what occupied his mind so completely.
“You do not need to placate me,” he continued, “I believe we have been friends long enough for you to speak the truth. Idid upset you, and for that I am sorry. You simply caught me off guard with your childhood memory. My father also fetched icicles for me each winter, but I’d not thought of it for years. It was one of the many little things he did for me. Things I wish I’d appreciated more. I’m sure he acquiesced to my persistence more times than I can count. If I’d been more grateful for the everyday kindnesses, perhaps our biggest disagreement would not have seemed so insurmountable.”
“Disagreement?” Grace hoped he did not find her question impertinent. He’d alluded to such a situation twice before, but she’d never had the courage to ask him for clarification.
His eyes darted to the treetops. The air clouded around his face as he let out a long exhale. “Disagreement may be too tame a descriptor. Perhaps dispute… controversy”—he faced her, the corner of his mouth tipping up— “feud?”
“Feud is quite the strong synonym.”
His smirk turned into a full smile. “I suppose that one might be too strong.” Then his expression fell. “Whatever the nature of our differences, we quarreled far too often because I refused to see the good in my father’s opinions, and he did not understand mine—at least I assumed he didn’t.”
Her heart ached for him. It was clear he regretted the differences he and his father had held. And now his father was gone, having died before Lord Gladsby returned from the war. She understood the pain of words left unsaid. She opened her mouth to reassure him, but he shifted in his seat, the warmth of his leg pressing against hers. The heat of it spread all the way to her heart, stealing all coherent thought. She froze in place, not wanting to upset the moment.
Chapter 8
