Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Richard stood beside Bridget, welcoming the Steele family into his home. He was tired, having rode home from a quick trip to Birmingham to meet with a potential investor. It had turned out to be an utter waste of his time. The day on horseback had left his muscles tight—muscles that had not recovered from helping a tenant family rebuild their home that had partially burned to the ground earlier that week.

He hadn’t known what to do, but leaving three children and their parents out in the cold was not an option. He had worked alongside the builder and thatcher and a few other laborers, learning skills he had never even seen before. It had been gratifying when they had finished, but now neither time nor money were on his side. Unless he received a Christmas miracle and the perfect investment, marrying Ruth appeared to be his only option. He’d finally written to his friend to secure a special license from the archbishop. God willing, he would have a cooperative bride to go with it.

As if hearing his thoughts, Ruth approached him first, wearing a pale yellow satin gown that brought out the fairness in her features.

“Good evening, Miss Steele.” He smiled and dipped his head. “Thank you for joining us.”

She curtsied but said nothing .

He smothered his sigh before it could escape. He hoped his cousins were faring better than he was with their Twelfth Night matches. Apparently, his was still afraid of him. He looked beyond Ruth to her sister, who was stepping toward him. Grace’s gown of choice was more bold. It consisted of a white bodice with a dark-purple overlay. But it was her eyes that arrested him. They were smiling at him in a knowing way that made him a little uneasy but captivated nonetheless.

“Miss Steele,” he said, dipping his head. He held her eyes, framing a question with his own. “You look a picture this evening.”

“I thank you for the compliment.” She held his gaze a moment longer before turning to her sister. “Ruth, isn’t Mr. Graham exceptionally kind?”

He tried not to appear surprised. Any time Grace said something nice about him it felt like a gigantic lie.

Ruth looked at him for a brief moment before answering her sister. “Mr. Graham is always kind.”

“When he wants to be,” Bridget interjected from beside him. “Tonight he is redeeming himself by playing host.”

“Did I need redeeming?” he asked.

Grace was quick to nod. “Very much so.”

Ruth frowned and Grace quickly shook her head as if she regretted her words. “I meant that we have not dined together for some time, and I am glad that it has been remedied.”

Richard noticed Bridget’s curious look, but Ruth’s was what concerned him. She had a knowing look, like she saw right through her sister’s intentions. Was that a good thing or bad?

He greeted Mr. and Mrs. Steele next. Mr. Steele set his arm on Richard’s shoulder, his grip strong and his whiskered face happy. “It’s good for our families to be spending so much time together, Graham.”

“It is,” Richard said, suddenly a little nervous. He held great respect for Mr. Steele, and he had the feeling that the man would welcome him as a son-in-law. The idea was still daunting to him. They visited for a few minutes before dinner was announced.

Bridget had done all the arranging, so once at the head of the table, he was surprised to find himself seated next to Mr. Steele and Mrs. Steele on one side of him and Grace on the other. Ruth was beside her and Bridget at the end. He could easily understand why Bridget had not placed herself beside him, but not her dearest friend?

Mr. and Mrs. Steele started discussing a painting of fruit on the wall that had been done by a neighbor years before.

“I thought you had died,” Grace whispered, picking up her napkin.

He had almost missed her words. “Me?”

“In a duel. Shot by Mr. Dobson in an ignominious defeat.” Her mouth barely moved, but this time he caught every unbelievable word.

Richard lifted his glass to his mouth and spoke quickly before taking a sip. “Mr. Dobson—kill me? You sorely underestimate me.”

“Do I? Am I to understand that you killed Mr. Dobson then?”

He frowned, almost forgetting to be inconspicuous. “Why dirty my hands when a simple bribe would suffice?”

“Bribe?”

Mr. and Mrs. Steele took that opportunity to cease speaking, and everyone heard her.

Mrs. Steele’s lips formed a stern line. “Grace, dear, why are you speaking of bribes at the dinner table?”

Grace grimaced. “Er—I was, uh . . .”

He jumped in to save her. “Miss Steele heard we were serving Blakewell pudding tonight and jokingly requested we serve it for the first course. The offered bribe was not made in earnest, I assure you.”

Grace shot him a surprised but grateful look .

“Ah,” Mrs. Steele said.

Mr. Steele chuckled. “My daughter takes after me. I admit, I have not had Blakewell pudding in some time and have quite the liking for it. I believe it is the flaky pastry base that makes it so delicious.”

Bridget joined in. “My favorite is the layer of sieved jam.”

“That is well enough,” Mrs. Steele said. “But the filling made of egg and almond paste is what makes a Blakewell pudding so distinct.”

Richard tucked his napkin in as the footmen set the first course on the table. “I am glad we are all anticipating Derbyshire’s famous pudding.” He winked at Grace when the others looked away. She had to admit that he had been the clever one this time.

Instead of smiling at him, she glared at him. What had he done wrong? It wasn’t until the second course when he got a chance to discreetly ask her. “Don’t tell me that one little wink from me has you flustered.”

Unfortunately, the privacy at the dinner table was nonexistent, and she did not have a chance to answer him. Instead, she did something far more surprising.

“What a delightful meal,” she suddenly announced. “Mr. Graham, I am delighted to see you did not fall asleep. Father, were you aware that Mr. Graham falls asleep the moment he is bored? It is a testament to our family that we have kept him awake.”

Ah, she had caught the yawns he had tried to hide with his napkin. He wasn’t embarrassed; in fact, he took her words as a challenge.

“Miss Steele is correct. It is her utterly charming company that has me so riveted tonight.”

He met her shocked gaze and grinned.

“I have always thought both my daughters quite charming,” Mr. Steele said. “I am pleased someone finally noticed. ”

When Grace’s eyes widened even further, he nearly choked on a bite of potatoes to keep from laughing. She must not have liked her father’s emphasis on the word finally .

“Mr. Graham is too kind,” Grace said. “But he is admittedly slow to see a prize when it is right in front of his nose. I am happy to hear he is finally catching on.”

Bridget coughed into her shoulder.

Richard caught Grace’s wild gaze again and held it, daring her to say something more. While he was eager to progress his plans with Ruth by pretending to court Grace, she would soon have them engaged if she persisted in her flirtations—albeit laced with hidden sarcasm. Perhaps he should not have risen to the occasion himself. He didn’t dare look at either of her parents to guess at their thoughts.

After the pudding was served and gushed over, the women dismissed themselves to the drawing room. Port was set on the table, and he insisted Mr. Steele serve himself first.

“I appreciate your insights on crop rotation,” Richard said, eager for some conversation that might clear the air between them. “My fields are looking a far sight better than last summer.”

Mr. Steele gave a quick nod. “I would never fault your father, but your land steward was too old and too set in his ways. I am glad you have set him out to pasture and hired a fresh hand.”

“Indeed, I am confident in Mr. Guiss’s skills.” Unfortunately, no matter the size of their harvest, it would not be sufficient to turn the fate of Belside.

“You are coming into your own, Graham. It is not an easy thing to step into your father’s place like you did. Hard things have a way of turning a boy into a man, and I have seen you become one this last year. If I am not wrong, you are looking for a mistress of Belside next.”

He swallowed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I do hope to take a wife soon.”

Mr. Steele nodded again, his arms folding over his chest. “It seems my Grace has caught your eye.”

Blast. This wasn’t happening. If he admitted his partiality to Grace, how would he later explain the transfer of his feelings to Ruth? It had sounded so simple coming from Grace, but the reality was far more complicated.

This was all her fault. The vexing minx had lured him into sparring again. And while he generally preferred such an activity with a practice sword and a fencing partner, these days, it was his verbal matches with Grace that fed his appetite. It was far better than thinking of the mess of his estate. But instead of passing insults and harmless flirtations, he should have been more wary of his new business partner.

She was far too clever for him.

“Grace would be a catch for any man,” he finally managed to say. There. He’d been both honest and vague.

“She has practically grown up in this house. No woman would transition better. Indeed, it would feel more natural to both your mother and sister than any other choice you could make. They already look at her as family. I am surprised I did not think of the match myself.”

Nor he. The room swelled with an abominable heat, and he pulled at his choking cravat. Dare he mention how they would never get on? How his aunt would withhold necessary funds if he dared even try it?

“Did I speak too soon?” Mr. Steele asked. “I can see I have made you uncomfortable. That was the farthest from my intention.”

“Not at all,” Richard lied. “I have not yet settled my mind on my future. It is too early to tell—certain things. ”

Mr. Steele chuckled. “Courtship is not for the faint of heart. And if I dare add, especially if Grace is involved.”

Richard gripped his thighs under the table. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I was once in your place. Courting Mrs. Steele was an adventure.”

“I am not against adventures, but there are other matters . . .” his voice trailed off.

Mr. Steele nodded. “I know you are uneasy about your estate. I cannot profess to know all the particulars, but it is admirable how you have reached out to the land owners around you and sought their advice. I have no doubt you will have this place turned around in no time at all.”

Richard had come to him several times seeking guidance and instruction on running an estate, and his advice had been a godsend. But saving his estate was nothing hard work could change. He needed a miracle. He needed Aunt’s money.

Mr. Steele pushed back his chair. “Come, let’s not keep the ladies waiting any longer.” The knowing look he gave Richard sent a wave of nausea through him.

Richard stood and obediently followed. Even though he had walked this short path between rooms a million times over, never had his feet dragged so. What sort of trap had he set for himself?