guest off and told himself he must ask Grace, when they met later today, more about her sister. Perhaps he would learn something that would allow him to remedy the situation. Miss Thatcher was such a young, timid thing; he supposed he oughtn’t have told her about speaking to Elizabeth.
But Miss Thatcher had overheard him, so he’d had to tell her something. Why not the truth? He hadn’t intended to send her fleeing.
No doubt her sister would have reacted very differently. He guessed it would not have upset Grace in the least. Indeed, she might have jested with me about it, until I was able to laugh at myself. Grace had a way of making his worries feel lighter — possibly because her own were rather burdensome at present — and Samuel found he had begun to crave her company and to wish he had not been so quick to help along the situation that had ended with her betrothal to Nicholas Sutherland.
When he had first learned that Grace was to be offered up for marriage, he’d requested an audience with her excuse of a father. I should have been bolder, should have paid the man right then and there. But Samuel held Grace in higher esteem than that. He hadn’t wanted to purchase her affection, though he was quite willing to pay her father for the privilege of marrying her, had it come to that.
And it might have, he thought ruefully, were it not for a storm and a broken carriage that had landed Grace in the wrong bedchamber of the house just up the road.
And now I am here alone, while Nicholas is blessed with her presence daily.
Grace looked nothing like Elizabeth, but Samuel felt she had a similar spirit. Setting out to purposely ruin her reputation so she and her younger sister might both avoid marriage had required gumption, the likes of which he had only witnessed in his wife. He still loved Elizabeth and felt a constant ache in his heart for her. But for the first time in over three years, he’d felt hope that he might yet have another chance at love, that the spirited lady currently betrothed to his former brother-in-law and current enemy might have been the one woman who could fill the void in his life and bring him happiness again.
We could have been happy together. We still might be, if all does not go well with Nicholas. Such a thought courted disaster, but Samuel could not stop himself from thinking it anyway.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Miss Thatcher stood in the doorway, wringing her hands and looking generally miserable. He could tell she’d been crying, and he worried it had been because of their earlier encounter. He rose to greet her.
“Please don’t trouble yourself.” She hurried forward to the seat with the other place setting, seating herself before he could come around to pull out her chair.
“I’m glad you’ve joined me,” Samuel said. “I worried that I’d offended you.”
“No!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly. “Nothing of the sort.” She took her serviette and unfolded it.
Samuel glanced at the sideboard where the food was located and waited for Miss Thatcher to notice it. When, after an awkward, silent moment of her repeatedly smoothing and adjusting the cloth across her lap, it did not appear she would, he brought everything over to the table, placing it well within her reach. Only when he’d sat again and started eating did she begin to serve herself; but even then she still did not look at him.
He searched his mind for a safe topic of conversation. “I believe Grace continues to fare well at Sutherland Hall.”
Miss Thatcher looked up, hope alight in her expression. “Have you another letter?”
“Not yet. But I plan to see her today. If she has written, I will bring the letter directly to you.”
“Thank you,” Miss Thatcher said. “You are far too kind to us all.”
Samuel scoffed. “There is no such thing as too much kindness.”
Miss Thatcher made no response to this, and again Samuel was left wondering if he had said something wrong. He