Page 38 of Discovering Grace

They stood so close together that, for a wild moment, she thought of what it would be like to raise up on her toes and kiss him. No one would see. No one would know. Except for Jacob. Her aching heart would be laid bare before him at last.

It would be the end of their friendship.

No other thought could have removed her from him at that moment as violently as that one did. She put both her hands to his chest and pushed him, hard, causing Jacob to stumble back a step.

He blinked at last, as though coming out of a stupor, and then his expression changed from a blank and stony aspect to a deep frown.

“You frightened me,” she whispered, putting as much force into the words as she dared. Perhaps he would forgive her the shove if he thought his actions startled her. “What are you doing, snatching at someone like that?”

“I—” He uttered the single syllable before clamping his mouth shut, then he turned to glare at the trees again. “This game was a bad idea, Grace. It is not appropriate.”

She countered quickly, her poor heart still racing. “Everyone is enjoying themselves. Now come, before we are caught.”

Jacob’s eyes lowered a moment to her hand with the handkerchief, then darted back up to her face. He stepped forward, his hand circling her wrist more gently this time. Then he bent slightly, toward her. Grace’s lungs constricted, the air around them crackled with energy and her foolish hope.

“You are already caught,” he whispered. His hand dropped from her wrist to her handkerchief, pulling it gently from her grasp.

All he wanted was to get her handkerchief. Jacob’s actions were nothing more than a ruse, for the game. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. She had been ready, had anticipated something else when he bent closer. More the fool, she, after thinking of giving a kiss to then believe she might receive one. He did not care for her like that. It was Hope he wanted, and Hope was too far for him to reach.

Mortified, she did not know what to do. The handkerchief had slipped from her fingers, but he lingered, nearer than any man ought to stand to a lady not his wife. Did he mean to drive home his opinion on the impropriety of the game? She hardly cared anymore.

“Grace,” he said, tone still low, as though he meant to share a secret.

What sort of sister was Grace, what sort of friend, to entertain the idea of a kiss when she knew Jacob would court Hope upon her return? Even though Grace sincerely doubted Hope would entertain him as a suitor, it was not for Grace to decide. She swallowed, demanded courage from her wounded heart, and lifted her head.

Jacob had come closer. He leaned down, lowering his head to hers. After her disappointment, Grace could not entertain the notion of kissing him again. Shoving him away had worked before, but this time she stood still, waiting. Grace searched his expression for his intent, her heart breaking.

After a moment of hesitation, Jacob cleared his throat, and backed away. Brought to his senses, somehow. While Jacob had never struggled to tell Hope and Grace apart, perhaps he had momentarily thought to replace one sister with the other.

She could never allow that, no matter how much she cared for him.

He took another step away, then another, and Grace saw the look of shock upon his face. Finally, he realized his mistake. She lifted her skirts with both hands as high as she could without risking indecency, and she ran. Back to the start of the game, to safety, leaving Jacob behind.

By the time Grace broke through the trees, most of her guests had returned and were laughing. She forced away her hurt. Pasting a pleased expression upon her face, she slowed to a walk.

“Who has been caught?” She called loudly enough to gain attention. Only a few people were missing, and they arrived shortly after she did. The only couple who appeared as though they might have spent extra time in each other’s company was Jacob’s brother and his Mrs. Muir. They were holding hands, neither with a handkerchief. Grace bit her lip and ignored that intimacy between them.

Mr. Ashworth had four handkerchiefs, Isaac one, and Mr. Keyes held six. Jacob, at the edge of the party, did not announce he had caught Grace’s. She did not bother to bring attention to it, either, and avoided glancing in his direction. Mr. King had made it back with his handkerchief, along with several others.

Grace counted the game a success, and she called their attention to the refreshments. She led the way, head held high, planning the next entertainment. Something much more subdued was necessary. Like charades.

Chapter 14

It took the better part of the afternoon for Jacob to stop calling himself a fool. He withdrew to the shade where the chaperones conversed, where he ought to have been all along.

The frivolous games his friends played without thought would do nothing for his reputation. He owed it to his future to distance himself from all of it. A vicar ought to hold himself to higher standards of conduct.

He watched Grace lead the way from the table of lemonade and tea, taking everyone across the newly-mowed field to the bowling green. She moved with confidence, giving no one reason to suspect she had been through an unpleasant experience.

What had come over him? Jacob had wanted to kiss her. Had been ready to do so. He ought to have known, after she pushed him away when he caught her, that she would not welcome the idea. Yet in that moment, alone with her and admiring the pretty blush upon her cheeks, he had wanted to take her up in his arms as he had to pull her against the tree.

His mind warred with the desire, reminding him that such an action was the very reason he had protested the game of fox and hounds. But Grace, flushed and breathing heavily while her eyes gleamed up at him through the shadows, had presented too tempting a picture. He had come so close to kissing her.

Jacob did not stir from the chaperones the rest of the afternoon. Instead, he kept up conversation with them, asking after the Parrs’ school children, the Kimballs’ married daughter, and trivial matters which barely served to distract him from Grace’s movements. He knew where she was, though he tried not to look, and he took himself away to his family’s carriage as soon as he sensed the end of the picnic drew near.

He had ridden Matthew’s horse so his brother could escort Mrs. Muir and their sisters in the carriage. He mounted the hunter the moment his family appeared for the return trip.

Every time he came in contact with Grace of late, he did something that he immediately felt the need to apologize for. It was impossible to continue laying the blame for his actions on his confusion over Hope’s disappearance and the subsequent lies Grace must act and tell. Something entirely different troubled him.