Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Steele family hosted a card party every December before the holidays came and families traveled or made family plans. Tomorrow was the day, and Grace was in charge of overseeing the maids’ cleaning of the main rooms the guests would frequent. It was a very pointed task, since Grace was not always the most tidy. She liked organization, but she merely prioritized more exciting tasks to the tedious, boring ones.

When Richard arrived for an unexpected visit, carrying a mysterious crate, she was suddenly self-conscious. She wore an old white dimity gown and apron, and her hair was coming out of its coiffure from her attempt to pull a marble out from under the sofa. Brushing aside her embarrassment, she forced her shoulders to straighten. It was only Richard Graham, and there was no need to impress him.

“Why on earth are you carrying that dusty old crate?” Grace asked with a laugh.

“You mean a box of treasures?”

“Treasures?” Now he had her complete attention.

“You aren’t the only one who has been cleaning today. Bridget and I went back into the attic this morning after breakfast for a little fun. She helped me pack up a few items your family might enjoy. ”

She hurried over to him, eager to see what he’d brought. Unfortunately, he was too tall for her to see anything. “Set it down in the corridor. We just beat out the rugs in here.”

“So, you won then?” he asked from over the top of the crate on his way back through the drawing room door.

“Won what?”

“You said you beat the rugs.”

She snorted. She was a fan of puns and riddles, as he well knew, but this one was very bad. “I am excessively good at winning against rugs. Do you even have to ask? You can set the crate on the side table.” She hurried to move the vase back.

He stepped back from the crate and brushed at the line of dust on his waistcoat and the lapels of his jacket. It was no use. The dust wasn’t budging.

“You should have thought to wear an apron,” she said, now quite proud of her attire. She couldn’t imagine Richard, in his dapper clothes, donning such a lowly clothing item.

“Not all of us can look as good in an apron as you do.”

Aw, the teasing Richard was back. She picked up the bottom of her apron to relieve him. “Here. Let me help.”

She brushed the coarse white fabric against his dark-green jacket. It did help a little.

He picked up the other corner of her apron and started brushing off his other side.

She glanced up at him the same time he met her gaze, and her hand froze. They were standing very close together. And was there. . . heat . . . emanating from his body?

He gave an uneasy chuckle. “I daresay this looks a little awkward.”

“Agreed.” He dropped her apron the same time she did .

She took a quick step backward, her hands fiddling with her apron strings until they were untied. Removing it, she handed it to him so he could clean his jacket himself.

“Thank you.”

She nodded and turned to his crate. It was at a height now that she could see what was inside. Laughing at what she saw, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He lifted up the white glove on top and handed it to her. “What is not to understand? This is a treasure, just as I said.”

“It’s so heavy.”

“It’s one of my old fencing gloves. They are too tight for my hands now, so I thought to make a present out of them for Tobias.”

“For me?”

That boy had ears like a hawk. He skipped down the stairs and rounded the corner to where she and Richard stood. It was a good thing he hadn’t come a minute or two earlier and caught her and Richard in an awkward position. Tobias took the glove from her hand and grinned. “It’s hardly worn.”

“I grew three inches the year my father gave those to me. I might have worn them twice. They’re yours if you want them.”

Mrs. Steele and Ruth came down the corridor from the library. “I thought I heard your voice, Mr. Graham,” Mrs. Steele said. “It is so nice seeing you so often. I hope you are coming to our card party tomorrow.”

“Of course. Bridget would not let me miss it. She would have accompanied me today, but she is thoroughly diverted playing dress-up with my grandmother’s old gowns we discovered in the attic.”

Grace put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. What would Bridget think when she discovered there were no buttons on them ?

Richard pointed to the crate. “We scrounged up a few items to see if they would be of any interest to your family,” he explained. He slid out some old sheet music, yellow with age. “This is an original composition by my great-uncle. I thought Ruth might like to see if it was any good.”

“Would I ever?” She accepted the pages with a careful touch.

He dug out the next item: a small box. “We thought this was a box of jewelry, but it was beaded fishing lures. Bridget was devastated. I have plenty of lures, so I thought Mr. Steele might like these to use on our pond this summer.”

Papa would be overjoyed. He loved to fish but always felt like he was overstepping if he asked to fish at Belside more than once or twice a summer.

“I will accept them for him,” Mama said. “Did you rescue a prize for me too?”

“Mama!” Grace said with a laugh.

“I did, indeed.” Richard held up a small framed likeness of Callis Hall. “I think my grandmother painted it, but I can barely read the signature. Anyway, it ought to belong here with your family.”

“How lovely,” Mama cooed. "It does look like your grandmother’s work. I only knew her for a short time, but she was a talented woman."

Grace realized she was the last one to receive a gift, but she would not be so presumptuous as Mama. He didn’t need to bring her a gift. In fact, after the way she had treated him all these years, he had no reason to.

“Is that it?” Tobias asked, as if reading her mind.

Richard shot a glance at her and smiled. “One left.” He dipped his hand in the dusty crate for the last time and pulled out a book .

Whether it was boring or not, she would make herself read it. It was the thought that counted. She extended her hand and accepted it. “Thank you, Mr. Graham. This is most thoughtful.”

She opened it to a random page and discovered it blank. It was a journal, not a book.

“I’ve seen you write in your journal before, and thought you might like it.”

She stroked the smooth leather cover. “I filled the last page in my journal weeks ago and have been wanting a new one.”

“Filled up with silly riddles, perfume recipes, and a million ways to get out of trouble, no doubt,” Ruth teased.

She hadn’t been wrong. This was the exact gift she needed. Practical, useful, and perfect for her. Warmth settled around her, and she looked up to meet Richard’s gaze.

He leaned against the crate, watching her reaction.

“It is most thoughtful,” she assured him. “A true treasure.” She added the last bit with an exaggerated emphasis to make him smile. It worked.

“In that case, the deliveries have been made, and I must return to our attic scavenging. I will see you all tomorrow evening.” After a bow, he turned around to leave. No one said anything about the dust line on the back of his jacket, but they shared a few snickers behind their hands until the door closed after him.

That night, Grace opened her new journal to write in it only to discover someone had already written a riddle. Intrigued, she read:

A boy you loathe, handsome though he be,

With charms that grow, a grudging kindness you see.

Through chance and time, disdain shall bend,

For in his heart, you’ll find a friend.

Who am I ?

She grinned and ran her finger over the line about friendship. Richard had surprised her. He was making a real effort to change. Perhaps she did not despise him so very much. Even if he did call himself handsome in his riddle. Her scoff was part laugh. That was so perfectly like him.

And more than a little bit true.