Love Lost_Clean and Wholesome Regency Romance_Grace by Amy Corwin

Author:Amy Corwin [Corwin, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scarsdale Publishing, Ltd
Published: 2018-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Didn’t you think Mrs. Wolstenholme looked pale? Something must be worrying her terribly,” Grace said as she guided Martha toward Hornbeam Manor.

Apparently intent on following Lord Glanville and his sister to the village, Martha resisted for a moment, her gaze fixed on the pair of siblings.

When Grace didn’t release her, Martha shrugged and resigned herself to match her sister’s pace. “She is often pale. However, she does seem more distracted than usual.” Her mouth twisted. “Perhaps Mr. Wolstenholme has been spending their evenings reading improving passages to her again. She mentioned once before that she’d finally broken him of the habit, but he might have started once more.”

Both ladies stifled a giggle as the same thought crossed their minds. Marriage to the severely sanctimonious Mr. Wolstenholme wouldn’t be easy for anyone, even a woman as proper as Mrs. Wolstenholme, and it would only be worse if one had to sit and listen to lectures detailing one’s bad habits.

Grace thrust the thought away and glanced back over her shoulder. Mrs. Wolstenholme had already disappeared around the corner of the church, presumably headed for the vicarage.

“Perhaps I ought to visit her,” Grace said. “If she is truly worried about something, it may be a relief for her to unburden herself. Even if she simply wants to complain about morally uplifting lectures.”

“Did you forget? Tomorrow is the inquest. Wait at least until the day after. She may be attending, along with everyone else in the village.”

“Attending? Mrs. Wolstenholme?” Grace shook her head. “No. I doubt she will attend, though I’m sure the vicar will. She’ll have to wait for the news like the rest of the ladies.”

Martha agreed with a shrug, and they chatted in a desultory manner the rest of the way back to the manor. Both of them were too absorbed in their own thoughts to engage in any meaningful discussion, even if it only concerned the weather.

Time limped along the rest of the day. Trying not to think about the inquest or Mr. Blyth, Grace spent several hours playing with Flossie. She managed to teach her to sit, as well as the rudiments of good manners. The dog was exuberant and quick to learn, so much so that several times Grace wondered if Flossie would end up smarter than she was.

The day finally died in a spectacular display of salmon, crimson, and blue, and when even those ribbons of color faded, Grace tucked her needle into the seam of the lovely pale yellow silk gown Lady Branscombe had given to her. After a few alterations were completed to take in the waist and bring up the hem, the dress would fit Grace as if made for her. Her back and neck ached, however, and she rubbed her nape. All of the ladies had been working diligently on various sewing tasks, and Grace’s efforts were clearly shown in her pricked fingertips. She looked hopefully at her hostess.

Lady Branscombe caught her gaze and smiled. The plain, wooden clock on the mantle sonorously chimed eleven.

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