Honor in the Dust Read Free Page A

up to the door, his eyes troubled and his lips in a tight line. He was shown in by a house servant, and five minutes later John Barclay, Grace’s father, came in.
    â€œWell, Claiborn, you’re back. All safe and sound, I trust?”
    â€œYes, sir. Safe and sound.”
    â€œHow did the wars go? Here, let’s have a little wine.”
    Claiborn’s head was splitting already from the hangover, but he took the mulled wine so that he might have something to do with his hands.
    John Barclay was a small man, handsome in his youth, but now at the age of forty beginning to show his age poorly. He pumped Claiborn for news of the wars, passed along the gossipsof the court and of the neighborhood. Finally he got to what Claiborn had come to address.
    â€œI assume your brother has told you that he and my girl Grace are to be married?”
    â€œYes, sir, he did.”
    â€œWell, it’s a good match,” he rushed on. “She’s a good girl and your brother is a good man. Good blood on both sides! They’ll be providing me with some fine grandchildren. A future.”
    Claiborn did not know exactly how to proceed. He had hoped to find Grace alone, but Barclay did not mention her, so finally he said, “I wonder if I might see Miss Grace? Offer my future sister-in-law my thoughts on her impending nuptials?”
    â€œCertainly! She’s out in the garden. Let her welcome you home. She’ll tell you all about the wedding plans, I’m sure.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” Claiborn knew where the garden was, for he had visited Grace more than once in this place. He turned the corner, and his first sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. A tall woman with blond hair and well-shaped green eyes and a beautiful smile. He stood there looking at her, and finally she turned and saw him. She was holding a pair of shears in her hands. She dropped them and cried out, “Claiborn!”
    Moving forward, Claiborn felt as if he were in a dream world. He came to stand in front of her and could not think of what to say. It was so different from how he had imagined seeing her for the first time after his long absence. How many times had he imagined taking her into his arms, turning her face up, kissing her and whispering his love, and her own whispered declarations …
    But that was not happening. Grace had good color in her cheeks as a rule, but now they were pale, and he could see her lips were trembling. “Claiborn, you’re—you’re home.”
    â€œAye, I am.”
    A silence seemed to build a wall between them, and it was broken only when she whispered, “You know? About Edmund and me?”
    â€œI knew nothing until yesterday, when Edmund told me.”
    â€œI thought he might send you word.”
    â€œHe’s not much of a one for writing.” Claiborn suddenly reached out and took her by the upper arm. He squeezed too hard, saw pain rise, and released his grip. “I can’t believe it, Grace! I thought we had an understanding.”
    Grace turned a little toward him. “An understanding of sorts,” she said quietly. “But that was a long time ago, Claiborn. Much has transpired since you left.”
    He couldn’t stop himself. Gently he reached out his hand to take hers. “I’m sorry. I was a fool.”
    â€œYou were young. We both were. Perhaps it is best that we leave it at that.” She turned her wide green eyes up to meet his.
    He frowned. “Is that all it was to you? The passion of youth? Frivolity? Foolishness?”
    â€œNay,” she said softly, so softly that he wondered if he had misheard her. But then she repeated it, squeezing his hand. His heart surged. Her voice was unsteady as she said, “I did everything I could to get out of the marriage, Claiborn. I begged my father, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s determined—and so is