The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Six

The evening wore on, and Grace was grateful that the men at the ball seemed to catch on that she was now “back on the market”. She still spent a little time on the fringes of the room watching other girls dance, but she was invited to the dance floor on regular intervals, to her immense relief.

She saw her mother flash her an approving look from the other side of the ballroom as she left the dance floor with her most recent partner—a man with money and good standing, but who very clearly was not enamored with her. He spent most of the dance chatting with her, but eyeing a blonde girl that he’d already danced with a few times. Before him, Grace had danced with another man she barely knew, but had no desire to dance with again—his face was frozen into the most unpleasant expression, and his conversation was distinctly annoying.

After her latest partner bid her an apathetic adieu, she was grateful to see Clara coming her way.

“Oh my, what a wonderful night!” she gushed. “My feet are aching, but it’s worth it. What fun!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Clara. After a year stuck at home, you deserve it.”

Clara lowered her voice. “I’ve discerned some juicy information for you about your admirer.”

Grace’s heart fluttered. “What admirer?”

“Don’t play coy with me, dear sister. I saw the expression on your face when I interrupted the two of you. You’re smitten.”

Grace blushed. “Just tell me what you know. And please don’t tell me you’ve told anyone else about this!”

“ Of course not! I’m no gossip. I merely inquired with a friend, and left your name out of it completely. It turns out that there’s a girl here who spends part of the year in New York, where Mr. Gladstone is from, and when she was there last, she was in a courtship with your dashing attorney.”

The weight of Grace’s disappointment was crushing. “He was engaged? Is he still?”

She shook her head. “It never got that far. He called things off after only a couple of months. But the word is that she’s on the prowl tonight. My friend pointed her out. I’ve already seen her trying to get his attention once, but was intercepted by Alice Dwight, who introduced him to another young lady.”

Grace reached out for a nearby chair and sank into it. She’d had the romantic notion that he had pined for her for the last four years…that their meeting was somehow fated. But no, life had gone on for Garrett Gladstone.
I’m just another wealthy girl he met years ago, and just happened to have run into again tonight.

“Why are you so downcast, Grace? He’s not courting her now. And by the look of him, he wasn’t much interested in her attentions earlier.”

That brightened her spirits. “You think so?”

“I do. I can’t be sure, but I do know he didn’t have the same glowing expression that he did when speaking with you.”

“I’m being silly. It turns out we met at the Winter Ball four years ago, and I suppose I’m jealous to hear that he’s had interest in someone else in the intervening time. How foolish is that? Especially given that I myself was engaged during that time.”

Her thoughts reverted instantly back to her engagement to Winston. Though they’d grown up around each other, her first Winter Ball had been the evening he had given her an inkling of his feelings. They’d danced many times—too many to be proper—but they hadn’t cared. They’d been too young at the time for Father to allow a formal courtship, so she had to endure an entire year of dividing her attentions between Winston and other men, and watching jealously while he did the same with other young ladies. It was sweet relief when Father finally allowed them to court, and an even greater relief when he eventually gave Winston his blessing to marry her.

“You’re thinking of Winston again,” Clara murmured, placing a supportive hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I can tell.”

“I am.” She looked up at her sister, flashing a thin smile. “But you know, for the first time, it is with more happiness at the memory of him, than sadness for what was lost.”

“You would have been married by now.”

“Yes. Last June. I might have been with child by now.”
That
thought was a cruel blow—wondering about the children who might have been. “But Winston wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell like this. I’ve mourned for both him and Father, and the two of them would want me to move on and be happy. And so I shall. Even if it feels like it will kill me.”

“Well, I think Mr. Gladstone will be a splendid distraction for you. I don’t know if the two of you will end up together, but spending time with a man that handsome can only help things, no matter what the outcome,” Clara giggled.

“He
is
handsome, isn’t he?” She wouldn’t admit it to Clara, but she found herself more taken with him than she could ever have imagined. Not just by his looks, but by his kind demeanor and the depth of feeling that he shared with her. Most men wouldn’t have revealed such a wound as a parent’s death upon first meeting.

“He’s one of the handsomest in the room,” Clara agreed. “It’s a good thing he’s just an attorney—if he was the Dwights’ son instead of their nephew, you might be fighting the other girls off with a stick!”

“Are you discussing Grace’s new love interest?” Madeline asked as she joined the two girls.

“Don’t exaggerate, Madeline. We’ve only just met.”

“
Again
,” Clara interjected. “They met four years ago, and he’s been smitten with her ever since.”

“I never actually said that!” Grace could feel her cheeks heating.

“Who have
you
been dancing with, Madeline?” Clara inquired.

“No one of consequence.” Madeline sighed. “And now Mother has changed her tune about Dalton Ashby. I think I accidentally talked her into considering him.”

“Uh oh,” said Clara, wide-eyed. “That means she’s getting desperate. You two are in for it.”

“You don’t need to tell
me
. She nudged me about him repeatedly, until I relented and went to talk to him again. Now I’ve promised him a dance later.”

“Are you that set against him?” Grace asked.

“No, I like him well enough. He’s a kind man, with impeccable manners. But I simply feel nothing for him. If I must marry a notch or two below my station, can’t it be to someone I have
some
true feelings for?”

“One can only hope,” Grace replied, glad she had finally met someone that she felt something for. She’d been jittery all night, waiting for her chance to dance with Mr. Gladstone again.

“I think I’ve finally lost my patience with Mother tonight. Her remarks are grating,” Madeline said.

Grace could see they were more than grating. Though her sister tried to hide it, she was obviously hurt. “Don’t think too much on it. I don’t think she meant it the way it came out. We all know how close you and Father were. Tears aren’t always a measure of grief. I just think you haven’t
let
yourself grieve fully. And you should. Believe me, I should know.”

Madeline remained stoic, but Grace noticed how her jaw was clenched in her effort to stem the tide of emotions.

“There she is!” interrupted Clara. She pointed across the ballroom.

Madeline quickly thrust Clara’s hand back to her side. “Have you no manners, Clara?”

“I’m sorry. But Grace, look!” she whispered. The blonde girl in the ruby red dress over by the punch bowl. That’s Felicia. The girl I told you about.”

“The one who was courted by Garrett Gladstone?” Grace scanned the room and found the girl. She found her easily—her shiny blonde hair swept up and arranged in a neat twist, with a few long curls trailing down by her ears. Her figure was far more enticing than Grace’s, and her dress was a confection of brilliant red silk trimmed in white lace and dainty white satin bows. She drew admiring glances from all the men nearby.

How can I measure up to a girl like that?

“Her dress is stunning,” Clara breathed, echoing Grace’s own thoughts. “It must have cost a fortune.”

“Isn’t that Felicia
Browning?”
Madeline asked. “Mother said Mr. Gladstone is only an attorney—how did he captivate the attention of a Browning? Her mother is almost as powerful as Alice Dwight in society circles, and their family has more holdings, as well.”

“I heard there was a stir over it,” Clara whispered. “Felicia likes getting her own way, and would not be deterred in her ardor toward Mr. Gladstone. She nearly caused a scene in public once, so her parents relented and allowed them to become engaged. She’s quite spoiled.”

“He’s engaged?”

“No,” Clara added quickly, “they broke it off ages ago.”

“Good,” Madeline said in a clipped manner. “I’d have a difficult time holding my tongue if I found out a man deliberately led my sister on, when he’s courting another.” She smiled at Grace. “If things work out with him, Mother’s nagging could end sooner than we hoped…for you, at least.”

Grace clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting.
How much longer until he returns to claim his dance?
The wait was simply unbearable.

Chapter Seven

As Garrett swept Lucinda Lowell across the dance floor, he tried to smile and pretend to enjoy himself, but he wished he could be anywhere else.

That’s not true. You want to be at Grace’s side.

He caught glimpses of her every time he passed her side of the ballroom. She’d just left the floor after dancing with a man he knew to be coarse, and a heavy imbiber. Before that, she danced with a man fifteen years her senior, who must have been the most unattractive man in the room. He wasn’t sure which was harder—seeing her dance with a handsome, rich dandy, or seeing her with men who were clearly unfit to dance with a woman as fine as Grace.

It galled him to think that most of the people in the room would consider her two last dance partners to be far better matches for Grace than he would. His thoughts got the best of him, and Lucinda gasped as he stepped on her toes for the third time. “I’m terribly sorry,” he apologized again.

“No harm done.” She smiled, but the smile was wearing thinner.

Why on earth did Aunt Alice coerce me into dancing? She knows I hate it.
He would dance when necessary, but he preferred engaging in stimulating conversation, where he knew he could hold his own. Yet she’d wheedled him, playing on his sympathies for the unattached females, because the inclement weather had resulted in a few missing male invitees, and therefore an uneven number of men and women.

He passed Grace again, but this time instead of smiling at him, she was deep in conversation with her mother and sister. Was he fooling himself that she seemed to care for him?
She’ll just break your heart in the end, Garrett. These Brahmin girls may toy with men like you, but they’ll never marry you. Just look at what happened with Felicia. She tossed you aside like garbage, then turned around and told you that you could “always be friends.”

And they
were
friends...of a sort. Felicia had occasionally implied that she might want more—meaning that she wanted to sneak around, behind her mother’s back—but Garrett wasn’t that kind of man. He’d seen her attend social events when her family stayed in New York, on the arm of various wealthy men. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s secret affair.

How do you know Grace won’t do the same thing?

He didn’t. But he just couldn’t imagine Grace being that way. He’d asked around, when he first met her four years earlier. She was known for being generous and kind, and having a soft heart.

But she’s a Brahmin girl, with a Brahmin mother. Grace’s choices may not be her own.

“Ow!” Lucinda cried as his shoe caught the edge of hers.

“I’m so sorry.” He felt his face heating.

“That’s alright.” But her expression told him it wasn’t quite alright.

I didn’t step on Grace’s foot a single time.
Dancing with
her
felt natural, as if it took no effort at all. He hadn’t even needed to think about the steps…he was just lost in her eyes, and somehow his feet followed.

Fortunately Lucinda was much more milder-mannered than her friends, Eliza and Viola, who had regarded him with cold stares when Lucinda accepted his invitation to dance. He wouldn’t ask them to dance, no matter how much Aunt Alice wheedled.

When the dance ended, Lucinda thanked him and made a hasty retreat—probably worried that he’d ask her for another dance. But he didn’t want to dance with Lucinda or anyone else…except Grace Barstow.

He was tired of playing games. He didn’t care if other men thought it was rude to monopolize Grace. He’d waited four years. He wasn’t going to wait another moment.

The truth was, no one had ever made him feel the way Grace did. Maybe he was fooling himself—he’d spent a mere half-hour with the girl. But he hadn’t stopped thinking about her in the four years since he’d first met her, and he didn’t believe he’d ever stop thinking about her, unless he took a chance and saw it through. He might be risking his heart, but Grace was worth it.

Wasn’t she?