Page 15 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

“I ’ve never been so excited in my entire life!” Arabella exclaimed as she twirled in front of the large, antique cheval mirror that stood in the corner of Grace’s room.

The pale blue gown had been embroidered with a silver thread at the hem and the neckline, creating an intricate pattern of swirls and circles. Arabella’s blonde curls seemed to shine in comparison and her rosy cheeks and infectious smile almost made Grace excited for the evening.

Almost.

As she sat in front of the small vanity near the window, Grace’s head was gently redirected by Mrs. Stevens so that she could see her own reflection in the mirror.

Her wavy, dark hair was being pulled up and twisted in an elaborate style and though she rarely compared herself to others, Grace felt a twinge of inadequacy as she stared into her own amber colored eyes.

Her brows were thicker and nearly black in comparison to Arabella, whose features almost seemed angelic in contrast. Grace’s lips were thinner too and likely less appealing, although to whom she wished to be appealing, she did not know.

Well, perhaps she did.

She blinked slowly, as if trying to barricade her mind from letting it wander. She would not think about Dr. Hall tonight. Not after he had been at the forefront of every thought she had possessed for the last week, ever since she attended him with the Mr. Flannery case.

For five days straight, she had gone to his office and for five days she had done her due diligence at trying to be as accommodating and quiet as possible, because from the moment he squeezed her fingers when he helped her out of her carriage that evening a week prior, Grace had become acutely aware of him every time he was near.

It was embarrassing to say the least, for she had always prided herself on her ability to stop herself from feeling anything but cordial to most people.

Particularly when she found that she had a small infatuation with someone, which had been rare indeed, but something about Dr. Hall had destroyed her ability to separate herself from her feelings and it was affecting her greatly.

Such as wondering if she might be more appealing if her nose was smaller, or her eyes a different shade.

“There we are,” Mrs. Stevens said, stepping back as Penguin the cat meowed loudly from the bed.

The housekeeper turned and smirked, addressing her new furry friend.

“What do you think, Mr. Penguin? As pretty as a picture, innit she?” Grace gave a tight smile, causing the older woman to frown once she glanced back at her through the mirror.

“What is it? Do you not like the style?”

“Oh no, it’s very nice. Thank you.”

“Nice? I am not satisfied by making ladies look nice. Tell me what you wish to change and I will do it.”

“Oh, but you mustn’t change a thing!” Arabella said, coming forward as she reached for Grace’s hands. She pulled her up out of the chair she had been sitting in and directed her in front of the cheval mirror. “You’re as pretty as I’ve ever seen you, Grace.”

The wide, scoop neckline showed off her long neck and bare shoulders. The dress was a pale peach, with a sheer brown overlay that split down the skirt. Her sleeves were short and the fabric appeared pinched at the shoulders, in a Grecian sort of style.

It was really a very pretty gown and while it did complement her hair and eye color, Grace couldn’t understand why she felt too exposed. She had worn fashionable dresses before, but this one in particular made her feel self-conscious.

She dipped her chin.

“That is kind of you to say, but I’m afraid I feel more confident in my work dresses than this.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Stevens said, coming forward.

“You’re quite striking, far more so now than when you’re wearing one of those drab gowns.

Now, give yourself a proper once over,” she ordered.

“With the pale peach of this gown and your dark hair, I daresay there isn’t a gentleman alive who wouldn’t take notice of you at the opera tonight. ”

Grace’s insides twisted. She did not mean to gather compliments by self-deprecation; she was merely stating a fact.

It wasn’t as if she cared one way or the other how she appeared.

And the last thing she wished was to garner any masculine attention.

Honestly, to go unnoticed would be a boost of confidence while attending the opera, as she did not want to stand out in any way.

“Yes, thank you,” she said quickly, hoping to satisfy Arabella and Mrs. Stevens, who seemed bent on making Grace feel self-assured.

“There we are.” Mrs. Stevens nodded. “Now downstairs with the both of you. We wouldn’t want Lady Belle to be caught waiting on you two.”

Grace followed Arabella out of the room and down the stairs as she plotted to wear her black velvet mantle until she was seated at the opera. Perhaps then no one would find her too interesting a subject to study.

The unwelcome sight of Dr. Hall’s steady gaze flashed in her mind as she descended the stairs, causing her to stall for a moment before regaining her steps.

Why was it that nearly every time she dressed during the past week, did she wonder what he might think?

It was ridiculous to care about any one person’s opinion, particularly when it pertained to such a silly topic as fashion, but Grace couldn’t seem to help herself.

Evidently, her inner turmoil was written all over her face, for when Aunt Belle spotted her, she frowned.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, herself dressed in a full fur coat, over what appeared to be an emerald-green dress.

“Nothing is the matter.”

Her aunt squinted her eyes.

“I do not believe you.”

Grace sighed.

“I suppose I’m just a little uncomfortable,” she said as a footman helped her with her mantle. “It seems a frivolous activity, going to the opera, when I could be studying.”

“Too much studying will do more harm than good, my dear,” Aunt Belle said with the tapping of her cane on the wooden floor beneath. “Besides, it will do your mind some good to relax and interact with someone other than that dreadful Dr. Hall.”

Grace frowned, unsure what her aunt meant by that as all three women exited the house and were helped into the carriage. As the crack of the whip sounded, Grace leaned forward to speak.

“What do you mean by calling Dr. Hall dreadful?”

Aunt Belle’s brow lifted.

“My dear, didn’t you tell me that he has you washing utensils and answering his every beck and call? Surely you find it tiresome?”

Grace shrugged.

“It can be, but I enjoy it.”

“I do not see how. Particularly when you can be doing a number of other things. It makes me worry about you.”

“You needn’t, really. I’m quite sure, more now than before, that this is what I wish to do with my life.”

Aunt Belle bobbed her head, seemingly placated as Arabella chimed in.

“Yes, but it must be grating on your nerves, to have to do everything he says.” She grimaced. “I don’t know what I would do if I was forced to clean an open wound.”

Grace smiled.

“Then it is a good thing I can do so without batting an eye.”

“But is it not tedious? Being constantly working, particularly with the same person day in and day out?”

“No,” she said softly. “Not at all.”

It was actually terribly inconvenient, particularly now that she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was some sort of feeling between them, but then her rational side was very much convinced that it was one-sided.

Dr. Hall wasn’t interested in her and she had made it a point to appear just as unaffected, however difficult that was coming to be.

Whenever she was close to him, which of course was daily, she tried to be indifferent.

If he asked her to perform a task, such as getting him more bandages to dress an injury, or to stabilize a child so that he might set a dislocated joint, she would do so without question and if she did have a question, she was sure to ask it in the most even tone, so that he couldn’t guess at her mood one way or the other.

To be honest, tonight’s opera would be the first time in over a week that Grace would be able to relax and realizing that, she leaned back against the plush bench cushions. She intended to enjoy her evening, despite the hollow feeling she felt in her heart.

Upon arrival to the Theatre Royal Dunlap Street, Grace was amazed to see that an honest to goodness crowd was gathered beneath the tall marble pillars that led into the opera house.

Not since London had she attended such a social event and while she had always known that cities existed outside of London, to see and be a part of it elsewhere was rather jarring.

“I know,” Aunt Belle said, leaning toward her after they exited the carriage. “It’s funny the first time outside of London.”

Grace turned to her.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Well, when one grows up in London society, it’s practically indoctrinated that it’s the center of the world and everything that happens outside of it is woefully unfashionable, but,” she said, glancing around as her eyes twinkled. “It is a marvelous thing to be a part of society, wherever one is.”

Grace nodded slowly as they were shepherded in through the front doors into a massive entrance hall.

The walls were painted gold and appeared to glow beneath the shining light of three massive chandeliers that hung above them.

Once again, Grace was taken aback by the sheer decadence of it all, having long believed London to be the epicenter of culture.

With her head bent backwards, she didn’t have time to see the man who spoke suddenly next to her.

“If the lady appreciates chandeliers this much, I should order a dozen for my new theater.”

Whipping her head back, she saw a fair-looking man, with a white cravat, vest, and shirtsleeves beneath a pristine black coat. He had a mustache, as was the current fashion, and slightly wavy hair.