Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Of all the virtues her parents could have named her, it was wise of them not to have christened her Patience. Waiting for Richard was impossibly hard. Her ears strained for the sound of carriage wheels on the drive, every bump of noise resembling a knock on the front door and every minute passing slower than the previous one.

Three long days away from Richard were enough to drive a woman mad.

What was happening? Had he changed his mind? It was the new year, and there were still a few days left until Twelfth Night . . . still time for him and Ruth to marry. As for her, she would go to London and cry the whole time, only to return to marry Mr. Dobson.

“Grace, you do not look well at all,” Ruth said, finding her by the window in the drawing room.

Grace leaned against the cold glass where she had the best view of the road. “I’m not quite myself, but I am well enough.”

“We haven’t seen Mr. Graham or Bridget for a few days now, and you have not left the house to visit them. Is everything all right between you?”

Mother had asked the same thing that very morning. Grace had thought Richard had asked Papa for Ruth’s hand at their last dinner together, but no one seemed to think anything of that sort. Indeed, they dropped hints that they assumed he would ask for Grace’s any day now. She couldn’t bring herself to respond to their insinuations.

“They have left town.”

Ruth’s brow rose and she tilted her chin. “You never said anything. Where did they go and for how long?”

She did not think it her place to explain about Graham’s finances. Whether Richard proposed marriage to Ruth or not, their secret would not stay covered for long. But the details would not be gossiped about from her. “I cannot say exactly. I thought they would be back by now.”

Ruth squeezed in on the window ledge beside her. “Did they go to Bath to fetch Mrs. Graham?”

“No, Mrs. Graham returned just before they left.”

Ruth smiled. “Do you not think it’s strange how ingrained you are into their family?”

Grace shook her head. “Of course not. I love them. And it is only natural for a person to know about the ones they care for.”

“You love all of them? But especially Mr. Graham?”

She met Ruth’s knowing gaze and could not look away.

Ruth grinned. “I have been waiting years for you to admit it.”

“Years?” She repeated, unable to deny what her sister had seen.

Ruth nodded. “There is not a man’s name you have spoken more than his. I think it’s wonderful too. I, myself, will never settle for less than love.”

“Truly?” Grace asked, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. “Then . . . then you could never marry Mr. Graham if, say, he proposed to you?”

Ruth scoffed. “Never in a million years. I had started to believe all the insults you paid to his name, but I can honestly say that I find him tolerable enough to be called my brother someday. Getting to know him this past month has strengthened my opinion of him. However, I could never care for him in the way you do.” She frowned. “Why would you ask that?”

Grace sighed and ducked her head. “His aunt thinks you are perfect for him.”

Ruth gave her a pointed stare. “What a foolish notion to keep in your head. What matters is what Mr. Graham thinks, and it is obvious that he adores you.”

“What if . . . what if I did not agree with what he wanted to sacrifice in order to be together?”

Ruth shrugged. “I cannot answer well without knowing more details, but would it not be his sacrifice to make and not yours?”

“Yes, but it affects more than him.”

“I see. If his heart is in the right place, you must trust that it will all work out. Or . . .”

“Or?” she held her breath.

“You can turn him down.”

Ruth might as well have sunk a knife into her chest. “Thank you for your advice.”

Ruth patted her lap. “What are older sisters for?”

The sound of gravel crunching through the window pierced her ears and kept her from responding. She whirled around, hands flying to the glass. The Grahams’ carriage!

“He’s here.” She stepped away from the window, smoothing her dress and then her hair. “He’s really here.”

“Stop fussing and breathe a little,” Ruth laughed.

“Breathe? How can I breathe?” Her lungs tightened and her heart pounded against her ribs. She shook her hands in the air, trying to shake off the mounting anxiety. “How do I look? Should I run upstairs and put on some rouge? Or a necklace? I should have worn a necklace today.”

Ruth shook her head. “I have never seen you like this.”

“I should hope not. I have never felt this maddening suffocation before.”

“So that’s what love feels like? Perhaps I can wait a little longer for my turn.” Ruth turned to peer through the window. “Here he comes.”

She squeezed her hands together. “Is he with his family?”

Ruth grinned. “He’s alone.” She swept past Grace. “I will see that you are too.”

“Wait, don’t leave me!” Grace cried.

Ruth only laughed and skirted away.

Time, now conscious of its ill behavior the last few days, did the opposite and sped forward. She hadn’t time to collect herself. Taking several deep breaths, she repeated in her mind Ruth’s advice. Trust that it will all work out.

Surprisingly, it helped, and when Richard came into the drawing room and bowed to her, she was as ready as she would ever be to hear the outcome of his trip.

He lifted his head and smiled.

It wasn’t wide, or teasing, sad, or forced. What did it mean?

“H-how was your trip?”

“We secured a cottage about an hour’s drive from here. It’s significantly smaller than Belside, but there are rooms enough, sufficient funds for a few servants, and enough land for a garden and chickens. Mr. Bowers believes he might have a generous renter. It is not ideal, but our children will inherit a good life.”

Had she heard him right? “Our children?”

He nodded, coming toward her with steady, confident steps. “You know, the ones you and I create together. ”

She slapped his shoulder when he reached her. “You cannot say such things!”

“I like when you fight me, but I prefer the passion of your kisses.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she fell against him.

“Shh! Someone will hear you.” She expected her mother to rush in at any moment to find them entangled together.

“I hope they do. I plan to marry you, Gracie Steele.”

Her argument died on her lips. “You want to marry me?” Her very soul seemed to light up inside her, bursting with joy.

He stroked the skin along her collarbone. “It isn’t London, but who else would ensure I stay humble all my days?”

“Hang London,” she said. “I am the only one you can trust to care for your ego.”

“Only you.” He kissed her nose. “Then only you for me.”

She rested her hands on his rising chest. “I don’t want you to regret choosing me. My dowry is small and will not go far. This opportunity with your aunt will never come again.”

He smoothed the wisps of hair at her temples. “How could I regret this beautiful woman in my arms? I have been counting down the minutes until I could hold you again.”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” She stared at him in awe. This sought-after man, adored by every woman in the world, had missed her? She could not get used to it.

He dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Constantly.”

See reason, she told herself. Reason! “But your mother . . .”

The surety in his eyes spoke before he did. “She knows and supports us.”

Even if that were true, could her health sustain her support? “And your sister? Will Bridget still have a dowry?”

He paused. “Likely not. ”

She shook her head. “Richard, it’s too much.”

“No house with all its splendor and finery could be enjoyable without you in it. Bridget has relinquished her dowry for the honor of having you as a sister. And mother? Her tears over the land have been exchanged for tears of happiness over anticipating having such a prize for a daughter-in-law.”

She could barely hold back the emotion brimming inside her. “And you?”

He seemed to breathe her in. “If my home collapses with not a brick left in place, I will still rejoice if it means you are by my side.”

The happiest of tears teetered over the edge when her cheeks lifted into a small smile. “You’re too wonderful, Richard Graham.”

He wiped at the moisture spilling down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Is that a yes?”

Lifting up on her toes, she placed a chaste kiss on his mouth. “A resounding yes.”