A Gentle Grace (Wedded Women Quartet) Read Free

meant to say is that—”
    “What you mean to say,” Josephine interrupted as she stood up, “is that we have long overstayed our welcome.” Acknowledging Grace’s grateful glance with a little wink, she pulled a sputtering Margaret to her feet and marched towards the door. “Catherine, come along. Our dear has decided to stand on her own two feet again. She no longer needs us.”
    Alarm fluttered in Grace’s breast and sent chills of panic racing down her spine. What had she done? She could not get through this on her own. She needed her friends. She was not outspoken like Josephine, or independent like Catherine, or smart like Margaret. She was the sweet one. The clumsy one. The one most easily forgotten unless she was with the three women who were currently making a hasty retreat. “Oh, no, I do not want you to leave, truly I—”
    At the front door Josephine turned and, placing both hands on Grace’s trembling shoulders, stared her straight in the eye. “Grace, we love you. And we support you. But you are right. We have been coddling you incessantly and it needs to stop. It is time for you to sink or swim, darling. Talk to you soon.” Pressing two quick kisses to Grace’s cheeks, Josephine spun on her heel and flounced out with Margaret and Catherine right behind her.
    Staring at the closed door, Grace rocked back on her heels and hugged her arms tight to her chest. “But I do not know how to swim,” she whispered softly.
     
     
    Outside in the chilly April air, the three women exchanged uneasy glances as they waited for their respective carriages to be brought around.
    “Do you think she will be all right?” Margaret asked.
    “Heavens if I know,” Josephine said. “But did you see the state of that house? Everything save the furniture has been sold off.”
    Catherine nodded solemnly. “The rumors are true, then. What should we do?”
    “Do?” Josephine echoed, arching one brow. “There is nothing to do. If we offer to help her she would see it as pity. No, the only thing to do is to hold our tongues and pretend we do not know Grace’s family is on the brink of financial ruin.”
    “I hate Lord Melbourne,” Margaret declared vehemently, kicking at a ball of snow and sending it rolling out across the cobblestone street. A late snowstorm had fallen upon the city two days ago, sending everyone into a tizzy. Spring was in the air, however, and it would not be long before heavy fur muffs were exchanged for dainty gloves and itchy wool cloaks gave way to beautifully embroidered shawls.  
    “As do I,” said Catherine.
    “If he were on fire I would not spare him a thimbleful of water. What?” Josephine asked when Margaret and Catherine both turned to stare at her. “I wouldn’t. The man is no better than a low lying snake and I tried to tell her—”
    “We all tried to tell her,” Catherine interceded.
    “No, you tried to tell her in the beginning. But you gave up after a while. I was the only one who besmirched his character on a regular basis.”
    Margaret pursed her lips. “What she needs is a husband. Someone wealthy, but not so wealthy as to make him arrogant.”
    “And someone kind, but not so kind as to have no ideas of his own,” Catherine said.
    “And someone handsome, so she will have a splendid time in bed. What now ?” Josephine asked in exasperation when Catherine sighed and Margaret rolled her eyes.    
    “I believe you missed the point,” Catherine said.
    “I did not realize there was one.”
    “The point,” Margaret called over her shoulder as her carriage pulled up and she hurried towards it, “is that it is up to us to find Grace a suitable husband before her family loses everything. I will see you on the morrow! Have a lovely night.” And she was gone.  
    “Up to us?” Josephine echoed as she stood up on her tip toes to peer down the street, searching for her own carriage amidst the growing traffic. The hour was getting late, and everyone was eager to