Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Despite all his promises to himself that he would do anything to save Belside, Richard had refrained from seeing Grace or Ruth at all the day before. He knew the risk he took wasting precious time, but the right choice was not always the practical one. Instead of games of courtship, he made a special effort to write to his mother and spend time with Bridget. Surprisingly, his sister hadn’t abandoned him to be with her dearest friend. She had wanted to be with him.

Grace was right. He’d neglected his sister in her time of need. Last night they’d stayed up late reading Father’s journal in the library together. Afterward, they’d talked about how they’d felt when they’d heard the news of Father’s death and relived those first few weeks. Speaking about feelings and thoughts that Richard had attempted to bury had been cathartic. His previous conversation with Grace had opened a channel he had dammed up, and the pent-up emotion poured through more freely now.

Grace had seen what he could not. Bridget hadn’t just needed him; he had needed his sister. When he visited Callis Hall today, he intended to pull Grace aside and thank her. No one else could have been so frank, so honest. She had not only helped his relationship with Bridget, but Ruth was now meeting his eye and speaking to him. It was certainly not enough to secure an engagement, but Grace had known the way to Ruth’s heart. He was eager to renew his efforts in courting Grace and watching Ruth soften, but he would no longer ignore his sister in the process.

Over breakfast, he extended his invitation to Bridget. “Would you care to accompany me to Callis Hall today? I had hoped to meet with Mr. Steele—”

“You mean you’d hoped to meet with Grace,” Bridget said, pointing her fork at him. “You do not have to play coy with me. And if it is courtship you want, you might want to think beyond simple visits to the house while Mrs. Steele hovers about.”

What was he to say to this? “Since you are so well-versed in these matters, what would you suggest?”

Bridget set down her fork and exchanged it for her half-eaten roll smothered in plum jam. “Well, since you are being so amiable as of late, why not accomplish two tasks at once? I have long desired for you to teach me to fence, and I believe it the perfect sort of activity to invite the Steeles over to join us for.”

“Tobias might enjoy sparring, but it is not a ladylike sport. Mr. and Mrs. Steele would never let their daughters near us again.”

“Women have fenced before,” Bridget complained. “Do you not recall the stories about Catherine Douglass, Duchess of Queensbury?”

“I recall that she was an eccentric woman who many spoke ill of. I do not want that for you or the Misses Steeles.”

Bridget finished off her roll and wiped a bit of jam from her finger with her napkin. “Will I never convince you?”

He shook his head. “So will you join me at Callis Hall or not?”

“How about a fencing example then between you and Tobias? Surely, a lady can watch the sport in her own home.”

Richard sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Bridget rarely asked anything from him. Surely a little demonstration wouldn’t hurt. “Can you keep this a secret from Mother? ”

Bridget crossed her heart and put her hands together to beg.

“Enough. I will send a missive over to the Steeles, but do not be surprised if only Tobias comes.”

In the end, it was he who was surprised. Tobias arrived an hour later accompanied by his sisters.

“I am pleased you could come,” he said to them.

Grace dipped a curtsy. “Thank you for inviting us.” Her cheeks bloomed a subtle shade of pink when her eyes met his, and his stomach clenched at the reaction. Was she remembering the kiss he had left on her wrist? Because he certainly was. Her impossibly soft skin had smelled like spring flowers. A scent he would gladly breathe in again and again. He had not anticipated his impulsive move that day, nor his reaction to it. Nor could he explain why he couldn’t chase away thoughts of her as easily as before.

“We are eager to watch the match,” Ruth said, distracting his attention.

“Uh, this way to the drawing room. The footmen have moved the furniture back against the wall for the entertainment.”

They walked in companionable silence into the room

“It is not every day we have permission to watch a men’s sport,” Grace said, finding a seat on a sofa.

“Indeed, we never have permission,” Ruth said, meeting his gaze—a subtle point in his favor. “I have only read about fencing matches in books.”

“Aw, but books have high stakes, where this is going to be a short lesson and simple sparring.”

Bridget carried in two foils, handing him his blade first. “It’s going to be a thrilling afternoon, Richard. Don’t downplay it.” She went to Tobias next. “Don’t hold back,” she told him. “My brother can handle it.”

“Obviously, I won’t win,” Tobias answered with a nervous laugh. He set his mask over his head. “Nonetheless, I do expect you ladies to cheer for me.”

All three women broke out in a succession of exaggerated cheers, making them all laugh.

Richard put on his own mask. Mother had made him purchase a set of masks during his time at university. She had never been fond of the sport, and while most men preferred to play with their heads back, she had demanded he wear a mask, and Father had enforced it. Now that he was sparring with a much younger opponent, he could see the usefulness of the purchase.

He and Tobias slipped into on guard position. “Hits are only valid on the right breast. Are you ready?”

Tobias gave a quick nod. “I think so.” He lunged forward, and Richard easily parried the attack.

“Don’t put all your weight on your back leg.”

“I thought that was customary,” Tobias said.

“It is, but if you can balance more, you will have the advantage in speed. Try again.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Grace’s riveting gaze on him. Had his instructions to Tobias made him sound conceited? That had not been his point, but he did not like that Grace might construe his words as such. He had not cared before, but after their last talk in the carriage, he was questioning himself and wishing to be better than before.

A moment later, Tobias parried, followed by a timely riposte. “Much better,” he said. “Again.”

They sparred for a solid forty-five minutes, and finally, Tobias, using a feint-disengage attack maneuver, managed to thrust the end of his foil into Richard’s chest. All three women clapped excessively .

Richard joined in the clapping. “Very good! You are a quick learner.”

“Thank you.” Tobias pulled off his hat, revealing a mop of sweaty hair. “I might need a moment to breathe before we go at it again.”

“Have some refreshment.” Richard waved him toward the women. Bridget had arranged for queen cakes and tea. He’d half expected to see more shortbread and melted chocolate, but perhaps Richard would have to perform better to earn their favorite treat. He removed his gloves and hat, wiping his face with a handkerchief.

“I am impressed with your talent.”

Richard turned to find Grace holding a cup of tea for him to take. He accepted it. “Thank you.”

“I have heard many times of your love for the sport, but I did not equate that to the hours of work and practice that came with it. Your dedication is admirable.”

A small smile played on his lips. She wasn’t forcing out a compliment for anyone to hear this time. It was honest and completely satisfying. “When something is important to you, the sacrifice of time and energy is nothing.”

She sipped on her own cup of tea. “I have seen proof of that recently in other areas of your life, but none of those passions included teaching my brother with such utter patience and encouragement.”

This he could not take credit for. “Bridget wanted a demonstration. I . . . was trying to do something for her.” He fingered the warm porcelain in his hand. “It’s because of what you said the other day.”

“You listened?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“I did. Friends listen to friends, do they not?”

The awe in her eyes turned to what he hoped was a shade of admiration. He did not need her approval, but for some reason, having it seemed very important to him .

Grace led him over to speak to Ruth, who had a number of questions about the different fencing blades. He happily explained them to her, but his attention was torn. He kept noticing little things he shouldn’t. Where Grace was standing. The sound of her laugh. And the lilt of her voice. Each played in the back of his mind long after the Steeles returned home.

Instead of puzzling over why, or trying to chase the curious thoughts away, he let himself contemplate all things Grace. She hadn’t shied away when he had needed her, and that meant a great deal to him.

So, he would allow himself to think of her.

Just for one night.