Grace: The Sinclair Society Series, #2.5

By Bethany Swafford

Five years have passed since Grace Anderson's husband-to-be, Jonathan Sinclair, died unexpectedly. Though her mother pushes for her to move on, Grace has found no man who can equal the man she was to have married. Still, the idea of being a lonely spinster caring for her brother's children is not a future she finds appealing either.

Mr. Adam Melbourne, a young man who had been as a younger brother to Jonathan, is a surprise she was not expecting. Despite her determination to ignore the cheerful gentleman, she finds herself thinking of a future where she is not alone. Will she put aside her mourning and trust love to guide her?
A companion novella to The Debutante, The Sinclair Society Book Two.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lilac Petal Press
• Release date: Mar 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201070649

Bethany Swafford

For as long as she can remember, Bethany Swafford has loved reading books. That love of words extended to writing as she grew older and when it became more difficult to find a ‘clean’ book, she determined to write her own. Among her favorite authors are Jane Austen, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Georgette Heyer.  When she doesn’t have a pen to paper (or fingertips to a laptop keyboard), she can be found with a book in hand. To get notified about new releases and any news, sign up to Bethany's Newsletter here: https://bit.ly/2Hg7KJw

Book preview

Prologue

Bath, 1809

Grace, would you please stop pacing the room? Mr. Sinclair will be here soon enough.

Mother’s tone was one of amusement. As I twisted the locket ring on my finger, I obeyed her request and paused in front of the window. Yes, Mama. I know, I replied. Much to my disappointment, a glance through the glass did not reveal Jonathan’s arrival. But he said he would be here an hour ago. I hope nothing has happened to him.

That was as close as I could get to voicing the worry that twisted inside me.

I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned with, Mama said with her usual calm serenity. He may have come across a friend, such as Mr. Harper or that young puppy, Mr. Melbourne, and lost track of the time. He will soon be here with his apologies.

Her words made sense, but I couldn’t push away the unease that coiled in my stomach. Where was Jonathan? What could have delayed him? He’d never once broken a promise to me, so I knew only something truly serious could have kept him away.

What if he had heard from his family and his father didn’t approve of our engagement? What if his mother was opposed since she did not know me? Or his sister didn’t think it a good match?

Grace, you are being ridiculous. Sit down and work on your embroidery.

Heaving a sigh, I turned away from the window. As much as I enjoyed sewing, it was not an activity that would take my mind off of my worries. It would, however, give my hands something to do.

I lifted the shawl I was embroidering for my sister, Julia. With three small children, she didn’t have the time to embellish her clothing as she once did. I hoped she would like the gift when I presented it to her, and not be offended as she had wont to be at times.

There had only been silence for a few minutes when the sitting-room door opened. My father entered, his face set in serious lines. The worry I was already feeling twisted even more in my stomach and my mouth went dry instantly.

Without a word being said, I knew something terrible had happened.

Grace, dearest, Papa said and then he paused. He cleared his throat. Dear, there is something I must tell you.

My hands shook as I set my embroidery hoop down. What’s wrong, Papa? I asked, managing to sound calm even though it was the last thing I was feeling right then.

Papa sat in the chair beside me and awkwardly reached over to take my hand into his. A friend of Mr. Sinclair called on me just now, he said slowly. Again, he paused and took a deep breath. I believe you know him. Mr. Oswyn Harper.

Yes, I have met him, I said, hoping he did not feel the tremble in my fingers. What did it matter if I knew him or not? What could be so terrible that Papa couldn’t bring himself to say it? Delaying was only making me fear the worst. Papa, whatever it is, you must tell me.

He sent a glance at Mother, who had leaned forward. As you know... his voice trailed off. He began again, Mr. Sinclair wasn’t feeling well when he was last here. And you know illness can, at times, make a person do something they normally wouldn’t do.

Confused, I shook my head. What was he trying to say? What could Jonathan have done?

John, out with it, Mother said impatiently. Can’t you see that you are worrying her even more with this hesitation? Whatever has happened, she is mature enough to accept it with equanimity.

Mary, please, Papa said, his tone suddenly sharp. Let me do this my way.

I squeezed his hand. Papa, please tell me. I’m afraid, I am terribly confused as it is. What did Jo—Mr. Sinclair do while he was ill?

Grace, you must prepare yourself, he spoke. My father took a deep breath. I’m afraid Mr. Sinclair was more ill than he let on. Perhaps sicker than he would admit to himself. It appears he became delirious with a fever, and attempted to descend a flight of stairs during the night.

Fever? Stairs? Delirious? No. No, no, no. He couldn’t mean... The doctor assures me he wouldn’t have suffered at all, Papa continued in a rush. It was an accident, pure and simple.

Mother gasped. My hand flew to my throat as I tried to breathe. Do you mean to tell me that Jonathan fell down a  flight of stairs and now he is...he is dead? I asked. My voice rose and I couldn’t have prevented it if I tried. No. No, I cannot believe this.

Papa merely nodded. I’m so sorry, my dear.

Staring at him, I still couldn’t believe his words. How could this be true? Jonathan, dead? An accident? It just wasn’t possible! We were to be planning our future together!

Tears streaming down her face, Mother rose and came towards me. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close. Oh, my poor girl, she said. What a blow! Do not try to hide what you are feeling.

But all I felt at that moment was...nothing.

Chapter One

1814

Why my mother insisted on going to the Pump Rooms every day was a mystery to me. Every other day would have been more bearable. Then there would have been a chance for something to change or happen.

Go speak to one of your friends, Grace, Mother said, touching my arm. Mrs. Pool and I shall do very well on our own.

In the past year, Mother had repeatedly made such suggestions. She would insist it would be better for me to seek out those close to my own age instead of remaining by her side. And had my friends been there, I would have been more than happy to do so.

However, the majority of my friends had married and left Bath. Those who had not left were occupied with family matters.

Yes, do go on, Miss Grace, Mrs. Pool urged with a smile. Even a young lady as lovely as you will not meet any fine gentleman here.

It would have been useless to protest that I was not looking for a gentleman, fine or not. After five years, most were of the opinion that I had mourned my Jonathan for long enough. It was long past time, in their eyes, for me to move on and marry another.

And yet, no one could compare to Jonathan Sinclair.

That it had been five years was hard to believe. Every day, I thought of the man who would have been my husband. What would life be like now if he had lived? Would we have been blessed with children? Where would we be living?

Why hadn’t we grasped happiness when it was in front of us? Why had he hesitated, decided to wait for his family’s blessing? Why? Why? Why?

There were still moments when grief would overwhelm me. For the most part, I could go on with my life. I could meet family friends, admire fabric when I went to the shops, and have conversations with strangers. Life was almost what it had been before I met Jonathan Sinclair.

Almost, but not quite.

I wandered around the edge of the room alone. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t met other gentlemen. In the last year, my mother had made a point of inviting every single gentleman in Bath to dinner and they had all pleased her.

But one had been dull. Another had been too serious. Too nervous. Too reserved. Too obsessed with horses. Too free to reach for my hand during a meal.

Perhaps it was wrong of me to compare them. It was not their fault my heart still belonged to Jonathan. Who could replace him?

Miss Anderson! Rose Dunbar exclaimed, waving at me. My dear, how are you today?

I am well, Miss Dunbar, I said, forcing a smile. That cannot come as a surprise as I have not been ill.

Oh, you were not seen here yesterday, Miss Dunbar gestured to the other young ladies with her. We all remarked on it and now you look so pale. But if you say you are well, of course, we will believe you.

This was a young lady I had known since she was five years old. I was a mere four years older than her. As a child, she had been spoiled and tedious to be in company with. Now that she was out in society, she appeared to have matured.

Appeared being the keyword. Malicious, barbed words remain just that, however sweetly they are spoken. Rose Dunbar had become adept at making any compliment sound like an insult, and heaven help us all when she did not get her own way in matters.

Her angelic beauty—her golden hair and blue eyes—had been compared to mine, but her’s attracted attention more than I ever had. No doubt, this was why the other ladies sought out her company. I could think of no other reason why they would choose to follow her around and pass any amount of time with her.

Miss Dunbar was just telling us that her father has hired her a lady’s maid from London, Miss Maria Stewart said. Is she not the most fortunate girl?

Didn’t you just hire a lady’s maid? I asked in confusion. I made-do with the housemaid’s assistance and could not imagine hiring a personal servant from London. The expense!

Oh, yes, but she was hardly suitable, Miss Dunbar said, waving her hand. Good help can be so hard to find, you know, she continued. She tilted her head. If you like, I shall have my maid advise yours on current hairstyles.

It took all my willpower not to touch my hair. "You are too generous, Miss Dunbar, but I