Page 10 of Married By Twelfth Night
Bridget pulled the door open. “Richard?” she asked warily. Her tall, willowy body leaned into the wood frame.
He donned a smile. “I thought I heard my favorite sister.”
“Your only sister, need I remind you. What is it you want?
He shifted his feet. “I wondered if we might go for a walk. You, me, and Gracie.”
The door widened and Grace appeared beside Bridget. Her keen eyes met his. “Don’t you think you’ve been on enough walks today?”
Part of him was regretting this already. Why did he have to ask for help from her again? He swallowed what was left of his pride and shrugged good-naturedly. “Walking invigorates the body and mind.”
Grace lifted a pointed brow. “How often does your brother take walks, Bridget?”
Bridget narrowed her eyes. “Never. He prefers to ride his horse, even if it’s just across the estate.”
“It’s a large estate,” he countered.
“Interesting,” Grace said, studying him. It never seemed like a good thing to have Grace Steele appraise him. Everyone else saw what he wanted them to see, but Grace was the exception. She saw right through him and exposed all his flaws.
His mouth pulled up at one corner. “See anything you like?”
Another girl would have blushed, but she frowned.
It was the exact reaction he had intended but not the reaction he required if he were to get what he had come for. He backpedaled. He needed to stay on her good side if he were to convince her to help him. “I’m turning a new leaf and becoming an expert walker. So, will you join me?”
“I think it’s too cold,” Bridget said. “What do you think, Grace?”
“I agree, but I think your brother is up to something, and we ought to find out what.”
He tapped the side of his leg. Grace was already sniffing out the truth. She couldn’t help herself. Despite his time away at university, he’d had their youth and the time since his return to cross paths with Grace over and over again. He knew her better than most—the slight narrowing of her eyes and the barely perceptible scrunch of skin between her brows—they were her tells.
“I think you’re right,” Bridget said. “How about a walk to the library, Richard? We can have cook send up some sandwiches. Not quite so invigorating a distance, but will it appease you?”
He lazily folded his arms across his chest. “If this is a rematch of cribbage, then I suppose I’m up for it.” He tried not to spend very much time with Grace. Managing to keep a strong presence in Society was no easy feat under the mounting pressure of his finances, and he didn’t relish the little pixie seeing through his facade and calling him out. But every once in a while, he did attempt to be a good brother.
Cribbage had been his last attempt—though admittedly, it had been several months ago. He’d been so consumed with the affairs of the estate that he could hardly believe so much time had passed. And of course, Grace had been involved that day. She was everywhere Bridget was.
“Overestimating your abilities again?” Grace smirked. “By all means, lead the way.”
Bridget grinned at the prospect of a competition, always a willing spectator to his losing. No one could pull a smile from her as quickly as Grace. They were more inseparable than ever lately. Strolling down the corridor toward the staircase, he stole a glance at their neighbor. Even if she drove him mad, he was eternally grateful to her. Her friendship had been the greatest comfort to his sister, and her comfort was hisown. Even Mother cheered up when Grace came by. Sadly, those visits couldn’t last forever, and Mother’s melancholy had only progressed.
A half hour later, they were all sequestered in the library, he and Grace bent over an extended game of cribbage while Bridget wandered off to select a book from the shelf. Finally, they had bored her enough that he would have a moment’s privacy with Grace.
“Grace . . . about that favor you owe me,” he hedged, keeping his voice low.
Her blue-green eyes flicked from her cards up to him. “Yes?”
He hated to do this, but he was desperate. “I’m calling it in.”
She put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her fist. “What do you have in mind?”
His lips twitched. Her casual posture amused him. She hadn’t batted an eyelash, but she would when he told her what he had in mind. He pretended to study his cards before dragging his gaze to hers again. “I want to marry your sister.”
For a moment there was no reaction, and then her brows lowered over those wide, expressive eyes. “My sister? I would never let that angelic creature near you. Is this your attempt at humor, because if so, you are worse at joking than cribbage.”
He had been prepared for her surprise, but he took some offense to her word choice. “It is not a joke. Am I such a brute that I don’t deserve her?”
“No one deserves her. She is too good.”
