Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

It took Grace three days to recover from the card party before finally deciding she was strong enough to visit Bridget without conjuring up images of her brother under the card table. She might never forget how his light-brown eyes had burned gold when he’d glanced at her mouth, or how his warm breath had tickled her lips. An abundance of feelings had tumbled through her: disappointment, curiosity, fascination. None of them made sense. The primary emotion should be relief and none else. She shook her head to clear it as a footman let her inside Belside manor.

“Miss Graham is in the library, miss.”

“Thank you, Nevell.” She handed him her cloak and made her way to the library.

She glanced toward the closed study door, wondering if Richard was sequestered inside or out with his friends. She hoped it was the latter. She had expressly come in the early afternoon, knowing he was an active personality who usually was out and about on business or errands at this time of day. She did not make it a habit of noticing his schedule, but since she did not care to see him today, she had put more thought into it than usual.

A creak sounded behind her and she jumped.

Good heavens. It was the maid .

She clung to her throat. Was she afraid of Richard now? This sort of behavior was ridiculous. True, she had barely handled seeing him the day after the card party for his short visit. He had said a few words to her, and she had caught a few strange looks as well, but he had spent the majority of the time asking Ruth about her music.

All this time, Grace had not known him to be so enraptured on the subject. A perfect reminder that he cared for her sister and not her. If she had any reason to believe his feelings had shifted to her, that visit had cleared up any misunderstanding.

Even so, when Richard had left that day, she had felt both relieved and disappointed. He stopped by again yesterday with Bridget but, thank the stars, she had been in town with Mother at the mercantile. She had been wise to beg her mother to buy her a new pair of gloves. The time apart had been just what her senses needed to recover from a dreadful Richard Graham hangover. The man was as toxic as any strong drink, and she was determined to stay sober. Their secret arrangement had merely confused her. In less than a month’s time, he would be engaged to her sister, and she would move away to find a suitor of her own.

She pulled the walnut door open and found Bridget on the ladder, tugging a book off a high shelf. Her head turned and her gaze met Grace’s. “Finally, you have come. It has been an age!”

“Three days,” Grace corrected.

Bridget climbed down, tucking her book under her arm. “As I said, an age. I know you were in town yesterday, but you must have a better excuse for not visiting me.”

She had a most valid excuse, but one she intended to keep to herself. “We cannot be together every day,” she said. “What will happen when I move to my aunt’s? ”

Bridget tucked her arm in Grace’s. “I don’t worry about that anymore because it is not going to happen.”

Grace met her gaze square in the eyes. “I haven’t convinced my parents yet, but I am determined.”

Bridget led her to a floral sofa in tans and pinks, its high back a similar walnut color as the door and shelves lining the walls. “You cannot lie to me. I have known you much too long.”

“Why would I lie?”

Bridget spread her arm across the back of the sofa, in the very pose her brother often adopted, and Grace had to look away. “See, that look! You do not want to leave, do you?”

Grace sighed. “I have to leave. I want to get married, and I haven’t any suitors here.” She purposefully did not mention how Mr. Craig had called on her the day before yesterday. She was not yet sure of his interest. He seemed the type to prefer conquests to marriage. And she wasn’t desperate enough to consider Mr. Dobson after working so hard to be rid of his attentions.

“How could you say that? My poor brother is exhausting himself chasing after you. I wish you would forgive him and give him a chance.”

“He is hardly chasing me. Besides, he ignored you and your mother in your time of need.” Even as she said it, her ire toward him on that subject had waned considerably.

“We talked about it, you know.” Bridget brought her arms down and set them in her lap. “He told me what you said and apologized. Then he spent the days leading up to the card party doing whatever I wanted him to do. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“The most fun? I thought we had fun regularly.” Grace gave a playful shake of her head.

“You know what I mean. I’ve missed him. ”

Grace nodded, grateful that they had reconciled.

Bridget nudged her. “So, can you forgive him too? He loves you.”

Grace choked on her next breath and coughed into her sleeve. “Love . . . love is a strong word, Bridget. You cannot throw it about so casually.”

Bridget grinned. “I am in perfect earnest. I’ve been watching you two for weeks. Sparks have always flown between you when you sparred words, but I do believe they have finally ignited.”

“Good heavens. Sparks? Honestly, Bridget. You have read too many romances of late.” They had made progress in their friendship, but that hardly was the makings of a romance.

“I know my brother better than anyone, Grace. He is smitten!”

She reviewed his compliment about looking well in an apron the day he had visited with his treasures. What if he hadn’t been teasing? And then she remembered the look when their eyes had met and their near position.

She needed a fan. The fire behind the grate seemed suffocatingly warm. “It is an act, Bridget,” she hurried to say. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

Bridget’s brown eyes lowered. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. He is interested in Ruth. He’s pretending to court me to get to my sister. I’m sorry I did not say anything sooner, but I was trying to protect his feelings.”

She waited for Bridget’s anger to come, but instead a laugh poured out of her mouth. “And you believed him? I thought you were too intelligent to fall for such a silly falsehood. You cannot pretend what I see when Richard looks at you. Nor, might I add, how you look in return.”

“Is it hot in here to you?” Her face felt flushed. “I’m starting to feel ill. Should I open up a window? ”

“It’s the perfect temperature,” Bridget said. “But I can understand if I am pushing too much. If it will make you happy, I will go along with your idea that Richard is interested in Ruth. And we shall see who is right in the end.”

Grace’s sigh reached her toes. “Thank you, Bridget. I do not want you to get attached to the idea that your brother and I . . . that we . . .”

“That we . . . what?” Richard asked from the doorway.

She glanced up and met his amused smirk. It set her heart pattering in her chest like a little cupid dancing there. “That we have plans to kill each other,” she said quickly.

He gave an exaggerated frown, leaning into the doorframe like a brooding fictional hero posing for a portrait that women would worship for centuries to come. “I thought we were friends, Gracie May. I could never willingly hurt you, and I know you care too much to wound me.”

His emphasis on her caring rattled her. Did he know? Had he sensed her hidden weakness?

She scowled as she had done for years every time he had sent her his disarming smile. “Is it even possible to hurt such an inflated ego?”

He pretended to think the question over, even stroking his chin as he did. “No, I don’t believe it is.”

“Then, I suppose since I am ill-equipped with knowledge or skills to fight, and my words do little to affect you, you are safe . . . for now.”

“Ah, you intrigue me. It is almost as if you mentioned me and your future in the same sentence. How endearing that you imagine remaining in my company when you clearly pretend otherwise.”

She snorted.

Bridget laughed into a pillow. “You two are terrible. What am I supposed to do with you both?” She clapped her hands. “I know. I’ve had a hankering to make a craft. It’ll be ever so much fun, and there will be no time for petty arguments.”

Grace opened her mouth to object, but Richard beat her to it.

“As much as I adore crafts,” Richard said, heavy with sarcasm, “I really have more pressing business. I do hope you have a lovely time.” He started to retreat when Bridget called after him.

“You can’t say no, Richard. You owe me more of your time.”

His shoulders fell and he turned back around. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“But a craft, really?”

“Really.”

Grace groaned and not quietly either. There was no reason to put on airs here. She had hoped for a quiet visit with Bridget and absolutely no time in Richard’s company. “I suppose I can stay a few minutes longer, but I really ought to return to my parents . . . to . . . help choose . . . the soup.”

“The soup?” Bridget looked disbelieving.

“For dinner.”

“Not fair,” Richard said, coming into the room. “My excuse was legitimate, and I’m not allowed out of this craft business. You’re clearly lying, so you should have to stay even longer than I do.”

Her ability to think of clever plans was waning. Richard’s presence was clouding her thoughts. Relenting, she leaned back into her seat. “I just remembered. My mother always chooses the soup. What craft are we doing, and how can I help?”

“I love your attitude,” Richard said.

“Yes, thank you, Grace. I expect the same commitment from you, brother.”

Richard gave a grave nod. “I can do anything Grace can do.”

“Good,” Bridget said. “Because we are making mistletoe kissing boughs.”

Grace’s gaze flashed to Richard’s. He met it with a look of incredulousness that surely matched her own. What on earth had they just agreed to?

“It will likely take a few days.” Bridget stood and started ticking items off her fingers. “We must find baskets and ribbons, cut pine and holly branches, and of course, find ourselves some mistletoe.”

“How many are we making?” Richard hedged.

Bridget squinted, as if thinking carefully. “I daresay we’ll need at least a dozen.”

“A dozen?” It was Richard’s turn to choke and cough. “What would we do with a dozen kissing boughs?”

Thankfully, he didn’t meet Grace’s eye this time. She would have melted into the cushions beneath her.

Bridget laughed. “They aren’t for us. We’ll keep one and gift the others. If I remember correctly from last year, they should stay fresh for two whole weeks. We can deliver them on Christmas Eve when everyone begins to decorate.”

“Just what we need,” Richard said with a small huff. “For the whole town to turn into a kissing fest.”

“What a romantic notion.” Bridget’s sigh was full of wistfulness. “I thought you were a lost cause, Richard, but you’re redeeming yourself quite well.”

She knew Bridget was jesting, and not only that, she was scheming too. How could Grace turn this to work in her favor? She couldn’t continue to spend so much time with Richard and keep herself sane. Besides, she had agreed to support his goals too. She cleared her throat. “It sounds like a great deal of work.” Grace folded her hands primly in her lap, hopefully looking extremely innocent .

“Oh, yes,” Bridget insisted. “It will take long hours together.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Grace said. “I vote we include Ruth to help us.”

“Ruth?” Bridget scowled. She leaned toward Grace and hissed, “What are you trying to do?”

She kept her face passive. “Nothing. We established this is a large project, and Ruth has an artistic eye.”

“What a brilliant idea,” Richard said, smiling gratefully at her. “Ruth will make an excellent addition.”

Grace relaxed as she had not done since Richard entered the room. Nothing had been normal between them since the beginning of December, but with a little ingenuity, their plans could still work.