Bluebonnet Belle Page 28
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” Louis reached for the glass decanter again. “My parents chose a woman for me back in France, but she was not the girl of my own choosing. I refused to marry her, and they never forgave me.” Pausing, he looked thoughtful. “Like you, I could not bear to marry someone I did not love.”
Louis sipped from his glass. “Is there another woman?”
“Yes,” Gray admitted. “But she doesn’t know it. I only knew for certain recently.”
“I was afraid of that.” Getting up slowly, he extended his hand to Gray. “Of course, you now become the no-good heel who deserted my daughter.” He flashed a tired grin.
Smiling, Gray accepted his hand.
“You are a good man, Gray Fuller. An honorable man. You have my best wishes for your future.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Louis grew sober. “Be assured, should you ever need my help, my advice or my service, I will be available. Now, let us join the celebration. You and Francesca can talk at the end of the evening. It will be…simpler, yes?”
“Yes,” Gray said. “It will be simpler.”
Picking up a Lalique vase, Francesca hurled it against the study wall. “You cad! You despicable womanizer!”
Gray was indifferent to her wrath. “It’s over, Francesca. Let it go.”
Striding across the room, she drew her hand back to strike him, but he thwarted her efforts. Their eyes locked in a silent duel.
“You have a right to be angry, but if I married you it would be the worst mistake of our lives.”
“You insensitive infidel!”
“Francesca. Only dogs can hear you now.” Letting go of her hands, he turned away. “You need to learn humility, Francesca. The world isn’t your bowl of cherries.”
“It’s April Truitt, isn’t it? The mortician’s little granddaughter. She’s been after you from the first day she laid eyes on you—”
Turning, Gray pinned her with a hard look. “Leave April out of this.”
Francesca resorted to tears. “Can’t you see what she wants? She smells money, Gray. Power. She’s using her grandfather’s ill health as a ploy to entrap you. She can never love you the way I do. Don’t be swayed by sweet innocence!”
“April is a woman of integrity.”
Her brows lifted with resentment. “And I’m not?”
Gray smiled with the calm strength of knowledge.
“Consider what I’ve done for you, Gray. The things I bought—the things father’s done for you. How can you think of throwing it all away on that little—”
“Enough!” His tone took on a dangerous edge. “Not another word about April.”
Francesca stared at him. “You actually love her.”
“Yes, I actually love her.”
“Well,” she said in biting desperation. “Why should I care?” Her eyes assumed a look of superiority. “You fool. I never loved you. You were merely a diversion, couldn’t you see that? Do you honestly think I would marry a picayune doctor like you?”
“No,” Gray admitted. And at the moment, nothing was more clear.
It was raining again; Dignity was experiencing a cold spell.
April stared out the window of the mortuary, wondering if it would ever stop. Mud piled high along the sides of the road. Only a few lone travelers braved the inclement weather.
Shivering, she let the curtain drop into place and moved to the fire. She missed Beulah. There was no one to pour her heart out to, no one to share her melancholy, no one who understood her love for a man she couldn’t have, like Beulah did.
Suddenly the walls seemed to be closing in on her. Grabbing her cloak, she ran down the stairs, calling to Riley as she passed the smoking room, “I’m going for a walk, Grandpa!”
“At this hour?”
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Can I eat the last piece of sweet potato pie?”
“Sure, enjoy yourself.” He had been so good about his diet and walking, she didn’t have the heart to tell him he couldn’t.
Besides, there was only half a piece left; she’d eaten the other half earlier.
The wind was moaning through the trees as she stepped out of the house, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. It was a horrible night for a walk, but she was getting used to adversity.
If Beulah were here, she’d tell her to buck up and stop feeling sorry for herself.
No, she wouldn’t. She’d say, “Dash it all, April, if you love Gray Fuller, stop mooning around and do something about it!”
Well, she loved Gray Fuller, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Her one attempt to capture his full attention hadn’t worked. She’d limped out of his office that day feeling as though he’d seen right through her foolish ploy.
She had to back away gracefully, prove that she was mature enough to know when she was beaten.
The damp night air enveloped her. Blowing rain nearly obscured the gaslights lining the square. A few were dark, unable to withstand the onslaught of Fickle Spring. She circled the square twice, hoping to make herself so tired that she’d fall into bed, exhausted. Her breath came in thick, vaporous puffs as she started on her third round.
Thunder rolled overhead; rain whipped through the trees and saturated her cloak.
Where was Gray? In Dallas. Grandpa had let the information slip during supper tonight. He’d left three days ago. In the past his visits had been brief, but had Beulah’s wedding reminded him that it was time that he and Francesca set a date? He wasn’t getting any younger, and men wanted—needed—a wife and children, didn’t they? Pain, as swift and sharp as a razor cut, took her breath. What if this very moment Gray and Francesca were making plans…
Maybe not.
She wouldn’t think about it.
She couldn’t. She would dissolve in tears, in a crumpled heap, and die of longing.
Her footsteps slowed as she realized she was standing in front of his office. Wouldn’t you know it? She wasn’t going to let it rest. She started to cry. Foolish, wasted tears that would result in nothing more than a miserable chapped face.
Silent weeping turned into deep, heartrending sobs as she realized that Gray would never be hers. Never. And it hurt. Worse than her mother’s death, and the long hours she’d spent holding Datha’s hand, praying she would live.
Leaning against the building, April tried to hold it in, but that only made it worse. Why, God? Why would You allow this man to come into my life and yet deny him to me? Why did he ever have to come to Dignity in the first place? How dare he come here and steal my heart, then run back to Dallas and Frances—
From out of nowhere, a handkerchief appeared. A nice, snowy-white handkerchief.
Unconsciously accepting it, she blew her nose, trying to stem the salty tide of weeping.
Suddenly she looked up. Where had the handkerchief come from?
Trying to focus on the blurry apparition blocking her path, she whispered, “Gray?”
Taking her in his arms, he started waltzing with her. Right there in the middle of the sidewalk in a blowing rainstorm. He danced with her as if it were as natural as breathing. Moving her gracefully about the puddled sidewalk, he held her closely, his gaze locked with hers. “Now, where were we when Henry so rudely interrupted us?”
“Gray?” she repeated, stunned by his almost ghostly appearance. His overcoat was drenched, as if he’d been out in the weather for some time.
Whirling her lightly, he caught her by the waist and lifted her off the sidewalk, setting her down in the middle of the street.
As their feet moved again, his gaze held hers in the gaslight.
“Did I get around to telling you how beautiful you looked at Beulah’s wedding?”
Regaining her composure, April turned angry. How dare he dance with her in the rain, hold her indecently close and gaze at her as if they were destined to be man and wife? And how dare he make her want him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.
As their lips parted many long moments later, he whispered, “Merry Christmas.”
Laughter bubbled up inside her. Kissing him left her giddy, feeling as carefree as a child. “Christmas is seven months away.”
He frowned. “Are you certain? I have a gift for you.”
“You do?”
He reached into his pocket. “I believe…yes, here it is.” He opened his hand, revealing a small blue velvet box resting in his palm.
She wouldn’t let herself think—no, she wouldn’t let herself hope. But strange as he was acting, there was no reason to hope he was here to—
Taking her hand, he closed it around the box. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“No.” She looked away, refusing to invite disappointment. What right did he have to be giving her gifts when he was seeing another woman? It was disgraceful. Immoral…
“Coward.”
“Gray…” She was tired of playing games. “Unless that’s an engagement ring, I don’t want it.” There. She’d said it. Let him have a good laugh, then run back to Dallas.
His brows lifted in surprise. “Engagement ring? You want an engagement ring from me?”
Well, now she did feel stupid. How could she have blurted that out—an engagement ring. Why hadn’t she said a…diamond tiara or, better yet, a stupid old Ming vase!
Gray reached out and brushed back a strand of hair the wind had blown from beneath her cloak. “If I gave you an engagement ring, that would mean I would be obliged to marry you.”
“Well…would that be so bad?” She gazed up at him, willing him to say the words she wanted to hear.
He pretended to think about it.
She didn’t find that funny.
He shrugged. “I guess not.”
She gasped. “You guess not!”
Pulling her to him, he brushed her lips with his again, exquisitely, then kissed her more deeply. “Perhaps that’s why I purchased the ring—the only one I’ve ever purchased in my life—to give to a woman—the only one I’ve ever loved enough to spend the rest of my life making happy, and am now asking for her hand in marriage—or trying to.”
“Oh, Gray!” Her words issued forth in a rush of disbelief. Joy started to grow inside her. “Do you mean it? I thought you were in love with her?”
“Her who? If by ‘her’ you mean Miss DuBois, then I must confess that at one time I had thought to marry her.” His features sobered and he quietly explained the loan, his obligation to repay Louis. How he’d garnered enough trust in Dignity to obtain a new loan from the bank, and repay Louis. The DuBoises were now out of his life. “If you agree to marry me, darling, we will be poorer than church mice, but I make you this promise.” He drew her closer. “I will love you with every ounce of my being. Till death do us part.”
He gazed at her with such love, such perfect devotion, that she started to cry again. Opening the box, he displayed a tiny sparkling diamond. “Will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Gray Fuller?”
“But Gray…darling…we disagree—a lot.”
“Never about us.”
No, that was true. Over the Pinkham tonic, the duel, her impetuous nature, and they hadn’t fought over that in a while…. Actually, they hadn’t fought about anything lately.
Really, she loved him exactly the way he was.
“And if disagreeing worries you, get over it. We’ll do that a lot in the next fifty years.”
Suddenly, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her again. When the kiss ended, he gazed down at her, rain coating his long, dark lashes. “Well?”
“Well…yes. Yes!” She kissed him this time.
Yes, she thought—she would be honored to be Mrs. Gray Fuller for at least the next fifty years. And if God ordained, even longer.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0750-3
BLUEBONNET BELLE
This is the revised text of a work first published as ANGEL FACE AND AMAZING GRACE by Fawcett in 1997.
Copyright © 1997 as ANGEL FACE AND AMAZING GRACE by Lori Copeland
Copyright © 2007 as BLUEBONNET BELLE by Copeland, Inc.
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