“If I may be sobold, me lady,” Mary said at last, her voice gentle, “we’re all glad the Laird has a good wife.” She smiled shyly, twisting her hands together. “He’s a good man and deserves a bit of happiness.”
The words struckGracie deeper than she expected.
Gracie felta flush of shame for the jealousy she had harbored the night before. She thought of how quick she had been to judge this girl without knowing her heart.
“Thank ye, Mary,”she said earnestly. “I appreciate that more than ye ken.”
Mary’s smilefaltered just a little, and she nodded. “Aye,” she said, “he’s nothin’ like his scoundrel brother.”
Gracie sawthe sadness gather in the girl’s eyes and felt a tug of concern.
“Has Edmund hurt ye?”Gracie asked quietly, her tone careful and kind.
Mary swallowed and nodded,her gaze dropping to the floor. She confessed that Edmund had sworn love to her, made promises of return, and then vanished after she had trusted him with her heart.
“It’s been many months,”she said, “and nay word at all.”
Gracie’s chesttightened with sympathy, the old wound of her own abandonment aching in answer.
“I understand,”she told Mary gently. “Ye are nae the only one he has disappointed.” She reached out and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Seek love elsewhere, Mary, and find yerself an honest man, for Edmund is nae worth yer tears.”
Mary looked up,surprise and gratitude mingling on her face. She nodded, blinking hard as though steadying herself.
“Thank ye, me lady,”she said softly. “Ye’re kinder than I deserve.”
Gracie shook her head. “Nay,”she replied, “ye deserve far better than what ye were given.”
The words feltright as she spoke them, firm and true. In that moment, she felt the bond of shared understanding settle between them.
Mary curtsied again,this time with more confidence.
“I’ll leaveye to yer breakfast,” she said, her voice lighter. Gracie watched her go, feeling a quiet resolve take root within her. When the door closed, she turned back to the table, her fear eased and her heart steadier than it had been when she awoke.
Gracie satat the small table and finally allowed herself to eat, the warmth of the porridge and bacon settling her nerves. With each bite, she felt the tension of the morning ease, replaced by a quiet gratitude. She had been wrong to think ill of Mary, and more wrong still to doubt Jaxon’s honor. Edmund, she realized,had left hurt and confusion wherever he wandered, and she was thankful beyond words that she was bound to the steadier brother.
She brokebread and spread honey with slow care, reflecting on how easily fear had taken hold of her heart. Jealousy had crept in where trust should have lived, and she felt chastened by it. Jaxon had done nothing to earn her suspicion, and Mary had shown nothing but kindness. Gracie resolved to be better than Edmund’s shadow and to let gratitude guide her instead.
“Good mornin’to ye,” Jaxon said, his voice warm and familiar, as he opened the door softly, and stepped inside.
Gracie lookedup and felt her cheeks heat as memory rushed back to her in a vivid blush. She lowered her gaze, smiling despite herself.
“Good mornin’,”she replied, her voice quieter than intended.
Jaxon crossedthe room and glanced at the breakfast laid out.
“We’ll beoff within the hour,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. He reached for the bread.
She noddedand watched him eat, struck by how handsome he was.
“It wasthoughtful to have food sent up,” she said. “Thank ye.” Her words were sincere, weighted with more than just hunger.
He noticed,and his mouth curved with knowing warmth.
Jaxon winked at her,bold as ever. “I thought ye might be famished after workin’ up an appetite last night,” he said lightly.
Gracie gasped despite herself,her hand flying to her chest. The memory made her feel warm all over, and she shot him a look half scandalized, half amused.
“I hopeye daenae think me wanton,” she said, though her smile betrayed her.
