Lord Gladsby stared at her, his expression blank.
Not knowing what to do with her hands, she clasped them behind her back. “It is very likely he would have died years earlier from a broken heart. At least he had hope that you might return; that there was a chance Engalworth would not fall to the cousin he and your sister despised so completely.”
Lord Gladsby’s mouth, which had hung slightly agape, slowly closed and his jaw firmed. Was that good or bad? When he turned his back to her, she decided it was the latter. She had offended him, but she was not sorry for what she’d said. If he could not see the hand of Providence, then she would show it to him.
“Life does not always turn out how we think it should.” She peered down at the flickering flames. “Nor can we adequately predict the future. If you’d died, your father could have gone to his grave sooner and your sister would have been forced to accept your cousin’s hand in marriage. Or if you’d stayed in England and married, your wife could have died in childbirth, leaving you a broken man. Mr. Smith could have even bought a commission and still died. No one knows what life will bring, so it does no good to look back at the past and say with certainty that others would be better off if we had chosen differently.”
His head hung down, but he didn’t turn. “But the watch. I was better at hand-to-hand combat and my skill with a blade was far superior to Sancerre’s. I might have survived.”
“You don’t know that.” She stepped away from the hearth and closer to him, the heat of the fire a bit too much for her as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Or was it the strain of stepping beyond the invisible boundary they’d danced around in their friendship for over a year?
She knew there were things in his past that he was not comfortable talking about, just as she had her own secrets, but something had shifted with his admission. A wall was crumbling; one she worried would either crush her or make it hard to keep her distance.
“I wish I’d had more time.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. “More time?”
He finally turned. “Yes. Time to repair things with my father, more than what little I was able to write in my rushed letter. More time with Harvey, so I knew what he wanted me to do should he not make it home to his family. More time to…”
He stared at the floor.
A soft knock sounded on the door and Lady Hamdon stepped in. “I thought I might find you here.”
Grace bit back a sigh. More time to what? She had a feeling whatever Lord Gladsby was going to say was important.
He straightened. “Do not act so innocent, Emma. You are the only one who could have sent Miss Lenning as an emissary. No one but the servants know where I hide.”
Lady Hamdon smirked. “It is not that difficult to figure out.”
Lord Gladsby harrumphed and his sister grinned.
Grace liked the easy camaraderie between the siblings. Lord Gladsby showed no animosity toward his sister, even though it was obvious she’d been meddling. Maybe he wouldn’t be as upset as she’d previously assumed. Was it possible he’d even welcome help from their families?
“We thought to sing a few Christmas carols before retiring for the night. Would you both care to join us?” Lady Hamdon glanced between them, the firelight glimmering in her eyes.
Lord Gladsby looked at Grace, a slight lift to his brow. A battle waged within her. She wanted to stay and hear the rest of his concerns, to talk about what was really at the heart of his frustration, to ask after his reaction in the drawing room. Butshe was also weary. The day had been filled with ups and downs that had left her confused and a bit frustrated. Maybe it was time to join the others, if only to give her space to think about what he’d shared.
Finally, she nodded. “I would enjoy a few songs. It might help me sleep better.”
He frowned, and she wondered if she’d chosen wrong. Did he wish her to stay so he might explain further? Then, in a flash, his expression changed.
“Carols would be lovely, Emma. Lead the way.”
Grace was so confused. One moment he seemed distraught at her leaving, and the next he didn’t care. It had been that way the whole of their friendship. He would be open and inviting and then shut down. It twisted her around so she never knew if she should stay or go.
But oh, how she wanted him to ask her to stay.
Forever.
Alan awoke to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight spilling in through the drapes. When was the last time he’d slept until the sun rose? He couldn’t remember.
Maybe Emma had slipped something into his second cup of cider last night. He would not put it past the little meddler. She’d not even tried to deny her part in sending Grace to coax him out of a bad mood, and it had worked.
Not only had it worked, but it had somehow stopped the strain in his mind enough to allow him to sleep.
What if Grace was right? What if nothing could have saved Harvey?
As a second son, he would have been required to find his own way in the world and he’d always intended on joining theRoyal Army. What if he’d been one of the commanders Ratford had marked to be killed? Sancerre would have dispatched him anyway.
