Saving Grace by Michele Paige Holmes Page B

on the room below as the line in front of her shortened. The ballroom was grand, from its gleaming floor to the tasteful paper on the walls and the potted plants tucked into corners. Like the rest of the house, the room seemed full of light, happy.
    All of this might have been mine. She thought of Miranda’s recounting of the conversation between her father and Mr. Preston.
    He’d wanted to meet her. He wasn’t hosting me as a favor to Papa or because of a debt to be collected.
    Why had Mr. Preston wanted to meet her? Grace told herself that it didn’t matter anymore; he would want nothing at all to do with her now.
    More the better.
    Nice home aside, no doubt Mr. Preston was as flawed as all the other men her father had tried to force upon her — notorious rakes or men twice her age, insufferable bores, or domineering and abusive windbags. Whichever Mr. Preston was, she could only be grateful he would have no interest in her now.
    I want nothing to do with him — or any man. A grand house could be a prison just as surely as their small cottage had been for her mother. But no man will ever want me. I am safe.
    A gentleman’s name was announced, and he descended the stairs far too quickly for Grace’s liking. She stepped forward, her stomach twisting in knots. The couple in front of her, a Lord and Lady Edwards, were announced and began their descent.
    Grace paused at the top of the long, sweeping staircase. She gave her name to the servant; his brows arched, then his mouth turned down as he stared at her. Seconds passed before he found her on the list and nodded. Grace’s throat felt suddenly tight, and she worked hard to swallow back the hurt. She absolutely could not cry.
    It wasn’t pity she was seeking, but disgrace. She would be proud and haughty; she’d broken the rules. She wasn’t here to make friends; she was here to be shunned.
    Grace took a deep breath and waited. As she’d hoped, the elderly Edwards were taking a rather long time to descend.
    Searching for something to focus on when it was her turn, Grace looked out to the sea of people below. A few had stopped to acknowledge the approaching couple, but many continued in their conversations. Beyond, on the other side of the room, the dancing went on.
    This won’t be so bad. Only a few people will be watching me.
    One of those caught her attention, smiling up at her in a knowing sort of way, as if — even from that far away — he knew what she was thinking.
    Grace tried to pull her gaze from the gentleman standing near the bottom step but couldn’t seem to. Neither did he turn away. His smile was broad and genuine, and, like the room that had welcomed her yesterday, he seemed to have a light, pleasant air about him. She watched as he ran up the last few steps to assist and greet the Edwards, to welcome them.
    To his home.
    Mr. Preston! Oh, no .
    The very person she’d dreaded seeing the most was the very one she would encounter first. As she watched him hold his arm out to Lady Edwards, helping her as she shuffled along, Grace felt a pang of regret that she could no longer meet him as her true self — Miss Grace Thatcher, in search of a husband.
    Brown hair, without a trace of gray, fell in waves across his forehead. He was tall and lithe, not portly or stooped or twice her age.
    He didn’t appear the type to be a rake. Indeed, he seemed to be a proper gentleman, albeit a new one, having an inheritance but no title. Instead of joining his own party, he’d stayed behind to personally greet every guest.
    Including me.
    Their eyes met again, this time with something of more interest and intensity. Grace doubted she would ever be bored in Samuel Preston’s presence. Everything about him spoke of vibrancy, happiness, and a genuine love for life. He was looking up at her and smiling, as if he’d been waiting for her arrival all night.
    And somehow she knew that though he might have heard the rumors, he had not yet taken them to heart. He was still