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  Blinded by Grace

  Becky Lower

  F&W Media

  Copyright © 2014 by Becky Lower.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-7891-5

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7891-5

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-7890-7

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7890-8

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © massonforstock/123RF

  This book is dedicated to all men who wear glasses.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to acknowledge my great editor, Jess Verdi. She’s been with me on The Cotillion Series since almost the beginning, and has come to know and love the Fitzpatrick family as much as I do. By being able to look at the manuscript from outside the writer’s focus, she has the ability to take my words and shape them into a stronger version of the same thing. She plugs up holes for me, marks my inconsistencies, makes sense out of nonsense, and helps to present a better version of my story. Thanks Jess, for making me look good.

  Contents

  BLINDED BY GRACE EBOOK EPUB

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More from This Author

  Also Available

  CHAPTER ONE

  New York City, April 1858

  A pair of eyeglasses. Who would have guessed?

  Halwyn’s vision had never been this focused before. He tweaked his new spectacles to a more comfortable spot on the bridge of his nose as the current crop of debutantes prepared to make their grand entrance into the ballroom.

  His mother and father flanked him as all eyes turned to the staircase where each young lady would descend after the announcement of her name. Halwyn’s mother, Charlotte Fitzpatrick, pressed her hand into his back. Even though her touch was gentle, Halwyn did not mistake her meaning, especially when she reinforced it with her statement.

  “This is your year, Halwyn, to find a bride. Take your time perusing this year’s group of lovelies and let me know to which ones you want an introduction. I can arrange it.”

  “Mother, please. I have no intention of selecting a bride in this manner. I’m too busy for such foolishness. There is too much to do as is, what with the job at the bank and helping you and Father ride herd on the little ones.”

  His mother smiled, her eyes aglow as the ladies assembled at the top of the stairs, surrounded by their fathers, brothers, and assorted other young men. “You are twenty-seven, Halwyn, high time to be married and producing grandchildren for me to spoil.”

  “You have four already to spoil, with two more on the way this year. My contribution can wait.”

  His father tried to hide his grin, but was unsuccessful. “I’m giving you fair warning, Halwyn. Your mother has decided this will be your year to wed. So, it’s up to you to find a suitable mate, one who won’t bore your mother to death with every last detail of the wedding ceremony. If you don’t put forth an effort, believe me, your mother will for you.”

  Halwyn groaned and raked his hand through his hair. His thumb and forefinger brushed back the stray locks that always seemed to fall over his forehead.

  “Why do I feel that I’m about to be fed to the lions?”

  George slapped his son on his shoulder and laughed. “Because you are. It’s called courting. And here are this year’s entries into the marriage pool.” As a unit, the Fitzpatrick family turned to observe each lovely young lady, dressed in virginal white, as they were announced to the fawning masses below, took a curtsy, and then descended the staircase on the arms of their male escorts. Halwyn realized he was able, for the first time in all his years of attending the Cotillion, to actually see the women as they descended the stairs. He admitted each created a vision as they bowed to the audience and gracefully floated down the stairs, and was amazed at how much he had missed in years past simply because of faulty eyesight. The ladies were prettier, the ballroom was ablaze with candles, the gowns were lovely, and the gems around the ladies’ necks glimmered in the reflected glow of the candles. He had no problem adding rows of sums close up, but the other side of a crowded ballroom, or the ladies at the top of the staircase, had been a blur to him before.

  Despite his misgivings about his mother’s plans for him to wed this year, Halwyn was mildly excited about this evening. He had no sisters to attend to as part of the Cotillion for a change, so he was free to prowl the ballroom all evening. And despite what he told his mother and father, he was not opposed to finding someone with whom he could share calm evenings at his own home. It was high time he moved out of his parents’ house. His twin sister, Pepper, had been married for five years already. Perhaps his mother was right this time. He was falling behind in his life’s plan.

  But correcting the course of his life’s plan meant spending this spring and summer courting a woman. He grimaced at the thought. Such a waste of time. He didn’t want to go through the process of finding a respectable woman, wooing her, and all the tedious demands that came with a proper courtship until the pair could claim they were sufficiently familiar enough with each other to marry. Perhaps the Europeans had it right after all, with their arranged marriages. Take the guesswork out of it, and leave the choice of a suitable partner for his parents to figure out. All he’d have to do is show up at the church. And at the wedding night. Especially the wedding night. Yes, he could go along with such a plan.

  Why couldn’t marriage be approached in the same sensible manner business was? In business arrangements, he was comfortable. He was aware of what to expect with any transaction. Cause and effect. He had observed the goings-on with his sisters while on their roads to marriage, and the machinations of love puzzled and confounded him. If he had been any of his sisters, he would have given up long before he ever walked down the aisle. And when his brother Basil got married a year or so ago, he had spent nine months in agony before he and Temperance admitted their love for each other. It made for amusing reading in his letters home from St. Louis, but Halwyn could conjure up no pity for him. When things became too hard, in romance or in business, you gave up on your first approach and found a different solution. That was his philosophy, and he was not going to v
enture away from it.

  So, tonight, if he found a suitable partner—one who was serene, reserved, and enjoyed books, poetry, and the theatre—he might humor his parents and court the woman. But the moment it became difficult, or the woman began to make demands, Halwyn would be out the door, and out of her life. There were plenty of young ladies who were suitable. He certainly didn’t want to waste his time on one who was difficult.

  As he glanced around the ballroom following the announcement of the young debutantes, he had to admit things were more exciting this year. The ballroom at the hotel was still cavernous, but being able to see things through his new glasses that he had never been aware of before made the whole experience different. For instance, there were several rows of chairs across the room, where young ladies and their mothers were sitting. Was that Grace Wagner? He hadn’t seen her in years. He remembered her as a playmate to his younger twin sisters, but now she was all grown up, and had turned into a lovely young woman. Perhaps he should go say hello to her and to her mother. And to give his belated acknowledgment of Mr. Wagner’s death. He wove his way around to her side of the room as the orchestra began to tune their instruments.

  • • •

  Grace Wagner’s stomach was in a knot even before the beginning notes of the first waltz of the evening. She could almost taste the panic her body was experiencing. She had been introduced into society three years earlier, right before her father’s death. She was in mourning when her best friends found love, got married, and exited from the debutante ball scene. Her second season hadn’t been much better, since the year of mourning needed to be observed, and she entered the season late, after everyone was already paired up. All around her, romance blossomed each spring, as one by one, her friends were plucked from their unwed states, and she sat on the sidelines.

  And here she was again, the proverbial wallflower, with probably the most at stake, and no potential partner in sight. Not even someone exhibiting a remote interest. She must make something happen this season, or she would spend the rest of her life a destitute woman. If her stepfather, Simon, had his way, her entire trust would fall into his hands following her birthday in July, and he would drink and gamble away all the money that her father meant for herself and her mother. Grace took a deep breath. She would not go down the road to poverty without a fight. So she had to find a partner this spring, or face the prospect of becoming a governess for someone else’s spoiled children. Or becoming a paid companion to one of these young debutantes being introduced this evening. Ye gads, anything but that.

  She spied Halwyn Fitzpatrick across the stately ballroom of the Metropolitan Hotel, with its myriad of candles casting sparkles of light on the assorted colorful gowns of the ladies. His mere presence in the same room caused her breathing to hitch. She’d been in love with him since she was thirteen and was introduced to him for the first time when he came home from college for the summer. He’d given her and his sisters each a handkerchief with the Yale insignia on it and, in exchange, she’d given him her heart. She had been in awe of him then, and she stuttered whenever he was in the same room. He must have thought her slow.

  But that was then, and this was now. She was no longer a silly young schoolgirl. She was a grown woman, and her reaction to him was ridiculous, having a physical response after all this time. He didn’t remember her at all. She’d been introduced into society the same year as Heather and Jasmine, descended the very same steps they had, yet Halwyn had acted as if he’d not seen her. He hadn’t spoken to her in years. Well, he was going to now.

  Grace rose from her seat and smoothed the skirt of her lilac gown. The dress was several years old, but she was still fond of its tiered skirt with bands of deep purple satin ribbon at the edge of each tier, and the beadwork of the bodice. Her mother gave her a sidelong glance as she lazily fanned herself.

  “And where do you think you’re going, dear? The waltz has already begun and you have no partner. Sit back down before you cause a scene.”

  This was the year, and Halwyn was her target. She would not sit quietly on the sidelines any longer.

  “No, Mother, I won’t sit. I’m tired of sitting. I want to dance. I suggest you go find your husband and do the same.”

  She took a deep breath, and began to walk toward Halwyn. It may be a presumptuous act on her part, but she had no more time to waste. She wove her way through the dancers and the onlookers, stopping to say hello when she passed an acquaintance so it wouldn’t seem as though she was making a mad dash in his direction. She’d just casually stroll around the room and run into him. Her plan was in place.

  When Grace finally made it to the side of the ballroom where Halwyn had been, he was no longer there. She scanned the room quickly, to see where he had gone. Now he was over on the side where she had just come from! Blast and damn! Should she return to her lowly chair and to her mother, or wait where she was in hopes he’d return? She chewed her lower lip and toyed with the pearls around her neck as she pondered what move to make next. This was turning into a silly parlor game of musical chairs.

  At that precise moment, they locked eyes across the room. She put the fingers of one hand to her stomach to stop its sudden fluttering. His smile flew across the room to her, evoking warmth and excitement in her at the same time. He gave her a small wave and began to walk with purpose toward her. She waited, quietly, admiring how his glasses made him even more handsome. Her eyes never left his face—so she was able to bear witness as his mother, Charlotte Fitzpatrick, came up to him with a blushing young lady in tow and grabbed Halwyn’s arm. They spoke for a few moments before Charlotte gently pushed the woman toward Halwyn, encouraging them to dance. He glanced across the room and found Grace again. However, all he could do was shrug his shoulders and smile once more before picking up the young lady’s hand and leading her in an awkward, uncomfortable dance.

  The opportunity was lost. Blast and damn!

  CHAPTER TWO

  What to do? Grace could not go back and sit quietly beside her mother again. It would mean accepting defeat, and admitting her fate, and she couldn’t abide either. But she couldn’t continue to stand here at the edge of the dance floor. For one, the swirling bodies so close to her were making her dizzy. And people were beginning to send her odd glances, wondering what she was up to. Her behavior was not in keeping with the blushing debs strewn throughout the ballroom. She was starting to wonder herself what she was up to. No doubt about it, she had to make a move. Noticing the open doors leading to the balcony, she took the opportunity to melt away from the ballroom. If it came down to a choice between rejoining her mother and stepfather or risking her virtue, she’d fend for herself every time. Grace quietly glided out through the open doors. Apparently no one even noticed, since she wasn’t followed.

  Tears were forming at the back of her eyes, and she scolded herself. You will not let them fall. Your mother is of no help to you now. You’ll just have to deal with this yourself. She moved to the shadows as couples emerged from the hot, cloistered ballroom, hoping to spend a few moments alone in the fresh air and possibly steal a kiss or two. Grace ran her hands down the tiers of her pale gown again. It was her favorite dress, but even she was weary of it now. Simon Huffman, her mother’s husband for the past year, had not consented to outfit her with new clothing for the season. And having an outdated wardrobe would shoo away any and all fortune hunters, if there were any to be found this year. As heiress to a substantial amount of money, she should be attracting poor reprobates left and right. But her wardrobe screamed that, if there had indeed been a fortune attached to her—as was rumored—it had long since been spent.

  Simon was well aware of what it would take to attract a man in search of a quick fortune, since he married her mother for the very same reason. He had done his homework, and the language used in Grace’s father’s trust stated that she must have a husband in place by her twenty-first birthday, otherwise the trust money would fall to her mother, and consequently, to Simon. All he had to do
was keep Grace from attracting a suitable husband until the designated birthday, in July of this year; Simon bided his time by verbally abusing both Grace and her mother, turning her mother into a shadow of her former, vibrant self. But Simon’s cutting remarks only made Grace stronger. She’d be damned if he ever got his hands on her father’s money.

  So she had to take matters into her own hands tonight. She, her mother, and her stepfather were only at the ball for appearance’s sake, and they would soon leave the social spotlight. Simon was uncomfortable in the company of men who were superior to him, and he also wanted to limit her chances of finding a partner. Her opportunity for a match would be lost if nothing changed her life’s course this evening. She could not let that happen, for her sake as well as her mother’s.

  Grace held her breath as a familiar gentleman walked out of the ballroom and lit a cheroot. Halwyn Fitzpatrick was a mere ten feet away from her! She caught the pleasant scent of his tobacco as she stared, transfixed. She was thirteen all over again. He took off his glasses and then ran a hand through his thick blond hair. He inhaled deeply and Grace noticed his shoulders fall slightly as he relaxed. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean his spectacles. She must have uttered a sound, because he turned and took a few steps in her direction, stumbling blindly into her.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He held her elbows for a moment to make certain she had regained her balance.

  Now’s not the time to turn into a stuttering fool, Grace. “Hello, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” she replied, taking a deep breath before she continued. “I was hoping to run into you this evening, but I didn’t mean it literally.”

  He placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and smiled at her. “Hello, Grace. Or should I say Miss Wagner now? My goodness, how long has it been since we’ve seen each other? Six or seven years, hasn’t it been? Please join me.” He held out a hand to her, and, as if in a dream, she floated from the shadows to stand beside him.