Grace Read Online Free PDF Page A

subjects much better suited to a son than a young girl who would someday marry and start a family. The time she did not spend studying, she spent out-of-doors becoming an accomplished horsewoman. Although Patience despaired of Grace ever learning to comportherself in a ladylike manner, she’d had her hands full with little Mercy—a child unusually prone to sickness—and with Faith, who had convinced herself that if she lost sight of her eldest sister, Patience would disappear just as her beloved mama had. Patience had been relieved and grateful to know that Grace was safely looked after in their father’s study.
    Life had continued thus for years in the quiet village. Then, last summer, one Sir Harry Thomas had appeared in Pelthamshire and taken up residence in the old Belden home. Although the newcomer kept the details decidedly vague, he had somehow distinguished himself in the war, earning a knighthood before selling out his commission and moving to the small community. The village made quite a fuss over him, for everyone considered him a hero. Doing nothing to dissuade them, Harry enjoyed himself, basking in the glow of his neighbors’ fawning admiration. The demands on his social time were great, and it was several months before a chance remark alerted him to the fact that his nearest neighbors were a widower with a house full of girls. He decided to ride over and introduce himself, happy for the opportunity to add to his bevy of admirers.
    The breathtaking vision of budding womanhood who opened the door that afternoon bore absolutely no resemblance to the scruffy little waif who had run wild with the local boys years before. No longer did the hated freckles mar her countenance. They were replaced by a tawny complexion glowing with health from time spent outdoors. The mop of hair that had always needed a good combing had lengthened into piles of thick, shining curls the incredible, if unlikely, color of dancing firelight. Her eyes, which had always seemed too large for her small face, still dominated. Now, however, they were fringed with long, sooty lashes, and had become a startling color that shifted from a coldslate when she was angered to a deep sapphire when something amused her.
    Harry was smitten. He had immediately begun his pursuit, his inflated ego making him certain Grace would simply fall into his arms, as had most of the other girls in the village. Grace, though initially friendly, quickly came to distrust and dislike the rather foppish knight and had, whenever possible, avoided him.
    Now, again, she peeked out into the ballroom. Glancing furtively about while keeping one eye on Harry’s progress, she looked for any possible means of eluding his notice. Her gaze settled on a pair of open French doors that led to the gardens, about a twenty-yard walk across the open floor from her alcove.
    Feeling rather like a hunted rabbit, Grace emerged from her hole and began to walk, as sedately as possible, while keeping an eye on Sir Harry. He had turned to look into the last alcove on the far side of the room. If she hurried, she would make it outside and beyond sight before he started across the room to look in the alcoves on this side.
    She could almost taste freedom when her progress was suddenly halted. She crashed headlong into a hard, unmoving male chest. Thrown off balance, Grace grabbed wildly at the man’s burgundy coat, missed, and began to fall. She gave a small, quickly stifled cry as his hands closed like manacles around her upper arms. With a low chuckle, he lifted her as though she were a puppet and settled her securely upon her feet again.
    Thoroughly embarrassed by her clumsiness, Grace raised apologetic eyes to the stranger’s deep green ones and found herself arrested by their warmth. A face of raw male perfection met her gaze. He had slashing black brows over those incredible eyes, a decidedly firm chin, and a straight, aristocratic nose, all framed by well-groomed dark brown hair that