Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Richard shut himself in his bedchamber the moment he returned to Belside. He unlocked his desk drawer and dug out the letter hidden inside. Out of the corner of his eye, his letter from his mother laid on the desk already, still unanswered. The precarious future of his home had left him with too much guilt to know how to respond. Ignoring it, he read through his aunt’s stipulations again, searching for a turn of phrase or wording that he could bend to allow him the freedom to marry Grace instead.

Despite his hopes, there was nothing there to save him.

She did not meet his aunt’s qualifications, but she certainly met his.

If only that was enough.

He dropped the letter and slumped into his chair. He had wanted Grace to give him permission to give up on Belside, to retrench, and to marry her . No, he hadn’t just wanted it—he had expected it. Grace wasn’t like all the other debutantes. She was resilient, brave, bold. She could thrive no matter her circumstances. He truly believed that.

But she was also loyal, and she loved his sister and mother as much as he did. He also wanted to be an honorable man and keep his responsibilities. Grace would never let him be anything less.

But had Grace accurately read his feelings in his eyes? He wanted to speak them out loud, but if he could not have her, it was better for her not to hear them. It wouldn’t be fair to Ruth. Whomever he married he would devote himself to. His father might have been terrible with money, but he had at least taught him the importance of being a faithful husband.

The door opened suddenly, and only then did he realize he had not locked it. When Bridget entered, he hurriedly stuffed both the letters back into the drawer.

Her brow knit at the center. “What is that you’re reading?”

“Nothing.”

“It is not nothing or you wouldn’t be so flustered.” Her mouth pulled into a grin. “Is it a love letter?”

She wasn’t going to let this go, and the last thing he needed was for her to start teasing him about Grace. It would hurt too much. “It’s from Mother.” He pulled out her letter and handed it to Bridget to read. There was nothing in there that she couldn’t know about.

Bridget studied the letter for much too long. He thought Mother had written to her as well, but perhaps not. He hadn’t thought to ask.

“Oh, Richard, why did you not tell me sooner?”

“Forgive me. I did not think to. It’s a relief to know that she is improving.”

“Improving? Richard, she has stomach cancer! She’s dying and promising to give you money to save our estate. An estate that I thought was perfectly solvent.”

His jaw tightened. He had given her the wrong letter. He snatched the paper back. “You were not meant to see this.”

“Perhaps not, but now I cannot unsee it. How badly do you need Aunt’s money? Never mind. It has to be very bad or you wouldn’t look so miserable.”

He groaned and folded his arms across his chest. “These are my choices: I marry and accept the money, we sell the estate, or we let the house—possibly securing it for future generations. ”

Bridget went to his bed and sat down hard on the blue coverlet, her empty stare full of shock.

He folded the letter again and shoved it in his drawer, hoping to never see it again. He locked it and let his head fall into his hands.

Bridget’s voice was low, but it carried easily to him. “I understand now why Grace kept pushing Ruth toward you. She knew, didn’t she?”

He nodded, his eyes tracing the wood grain of his desk.

“I had hoped . . . ” she began. “I had hoped you and Grace . . . but no, I see that this is for the best. Mother is finally out of her room for more than an hour put together. Can you imagine what this would do to her?”

“I have imagined nothing else.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. That was unkind. Oh, Richard. For Mother’s sake, we just have to keep the house.”

He let his hands slip away and turned to face her. “For your sake as well.”

Bridget chewed on her bottom lip and shook her head. “I came to tell you that Aunt plans to leave tomorrow morning. Do you think we could convince her to accept Grace instead of Ruth?”

“You know her impression of Grace as well as I. She talked of nothing else at breakfast, despite the many ideal qualities Grace possesses that I listed to the contrary.”

Bridget sighed. “I suppose not. She is as stubborn as an ox.”

“We have been invited to dine with the Steeles tonight. It would not be hard to seek an audience with Mr. Steele afterward and ask for Ruth’s hand. I have the special license ready. I must be wed by Twelfth Night or we won’t have a choice about the house.”

“Twelfth Night. Oh, Richard. Will she say yes? ”

He tapped his hand on the desk. “I visited with Ruth for a few moments this morning and our conversation was easier than ever. There is hope that she will accept, but Bridget, I am ashamed to say it, but part of me hopes she refuses.”

Bridget bowed her head and clasped her hands together. He wasn’t certain if she was thinking or praying but either one he supported. He couldn’t go back to bearing this weight alone. It seemed to him that God had sent him someone already to shoulder his burdens with him. And that someone was Grace.