[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North Read Free Page B

and quite pleased with the knowledge that he’d unnerved her.
    ‘‘And so we happily announce,’’ her father continued, ‘‘the engagement of our daughter, Grace Hawkins, to Mr. Martin Paxton of Erie, Pennsylvania.’’
    The looks of the assemblage passed from Frederick Hawkins to Martin Paxton, almost completely excluding Grace. She felt rather insignificant for the moment, though she hadn’t long to suffer in that state.
    Paxton gave a stiff, formal bow to the guests before crossing the room to join Grace. ‘‘I am quite honored to make the acquaintance of this dear family’s friends. I have long sought the hand of my bride and will know great pleasure in your attendance at our wedding.’’
    ‘‘When is that day to be?’’ Mrs. Bryant questioned, her exuberance extending beyond the proprieties.
    On an occasion such as this, Grace knew it was an acceptable faux pas. She could have predicted such a question. What she could not possibly have anticipated, however, was Martin Paxton’s response.
    ‘‘Because there has long existed an informal agreement between families, I am certain we will marry without delay.’’
    It took every ounce of willpower to keep Grace from pushing Paxton away. She held her tongue, controlled her expression, and refrained from balling her hand into a fist and putting it aside Paxton’s Romanesque nose.
    ‘‘Surely you do not mean to marry before the end of the summer?’’ Mrs. Bryant questioned, rather aghast.
    Grace’s mother laughed nervously. ‘‘Of course not.’’
    Paxton threw her a glance that might have completely wilted a woman of more delicate constitution. Myrtle Hawkins, however, stood her ground.
    ‘‘We’ve not arranged for dates and places,’’ she said, smiling. ‘‘We want to enjoy the moment of this intimate announcement among friends. Come, enjoy some refreshments and perhaps we can convince Grace to perform for us.’’
    ‘‘Oh yes, do,’’ several women said in unison.
    Grace felt Paxton tighten his hold on her arm. He probably knew nothing of her singing or playing of the piano and harp. He probably had no idea of her education or fluency in French and German. Looking up at the man who was to be her husband, Grace realized with great apprehension that this man knew nothing at all about her.
    Grace sat down to the piano and began a rather melancholy sonata. Always one of her favorites, Beethoven’s ‘‘Moonlight Sonata’’ stirred her in a way that she could scarce put into words. The progression of the chords, the melodic appeal of the haunting tune . . . it was something that reached deep into her soul.
    Looking up only once, Grace found Paxton watching her with an unveiled expression. She could only equate the look to one of hatred, and yet he had no reason to hate her. She had not forced herself upon him.
    As the last notes died down and the audience applauded her efforts, Grace got to her feet and gave a brief curtsy. Paxton was immediately at her side, offering his arm, along with a look that suggested she make no move to refuse him. Smiling in a rather fixed manner, Grace placed her gloved hand atop his and allowed him to lead her from the piano. Mrs. Bryant’s youngest daughter, Hazel, quickly took her place at the bench and soon a rapid-paced Mozart tune sprang from the keys.
    ‘‘I would have a private word with you,’’ Paxton told Grace in a commanding way.
    ‘‘It would hardly be fitting for us to be seen leaving the party,’’ Grace replied, unwilling to look at him.
    ‘‘I really care very little for the rules of society.’’
    ‘‘So I had gathered from your comment of hurrying our wedding.’’
    ‘‘I take it you disapprove,’’ he said in a low, sarcastic tone.
    ‘‘How astute of you to notice.’’
    He pulled her arm against his side. ‘‘I pride myself in keeping track of the details, Miss Hawkins.’’ He pushed her toward the open French doors and out into the garden. Swinging her around