Page 12 of Married By Twelfth Night
She played with the peg on the cribbage board. “What would be expected of me?”
“Can you help me get to know her better?”
She folded her arms across her chest, her mind ticking away behind her eyes. He would beg her if he had to. His family couldn’t lose Belside manor. After losing Papa, it would kill them.
“This favor isn’t equal to the one I gave you,” she finally said.
His heart sank.
“But I will make a deal with you.”
Hope soared again. “Anything.”
She smiled. “That’s the same word I said to you at the ball. You might want to hear my plan first.”
Indeed, he did. This was a Grace Steele plan, and it was bound to work. He leaned into the table, eager to hear it.
“You’ll court me instead.”
He sat back. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Court Grace? His family would love it, and he . . . well, Grace was attractive, and with those keen sparking eyes, milky skin, and slender neck, she had no problem keeping his attention. But he tried to think of her as little Gracie May, the name he had come up with for her when he wasprobably ten, to remind himself that she was like a sister to him and not someone he should be attracted to. Besides, she would hate being married to him, and he would hate that she hated him. He wouldn’t do that to her . . . or himself. Not to mention that she didn’t fit any of his aunt’s qualifications and would defeat his purpose. “Gracie—”
“For a few weeks, Richard. Not forever. It will allow Ruth time for her to feel safe with you, to trust you, and then your feelings will transfer to her instead.”
It was a fair idea, but no, it was not worth it. He shook his head. “People will speak poorly of you. Your reputation would suffer.”
“I can handle a few gossips. It’s not like we would be engaged. Besides, I would be permitted to leave Wetherfield once you’re married to my sister. My aunt has long promised to have me in London, and as you know, I long to go. Mama will finally realize that I have no prospects here and with a tarnished reputation, how can she say no?”
Grace could have plenty of prospects if she desired them. She had impossibly high standards, making herself seemingly unattainable. Perhaps she would be happier in London with a fresh start, but why did the idea of her leaving produce a sinking feeling in his stomach? Had he begun to feel responsible for her? She was not his sister. If she wanted to leave, she should be permitted to do so.
Selfishly, he knew his family would suffer, but so would all of Wetherfield. Grace was part of what made their slice of the countryside what it was. That’s how small towns worked. They were who the people were.
“I don’t know,” he muttered.
She swallowed. “Would it be so hard to pretend to like me?”
The sudden vulnerability clouding her face unnerved him. She was always a wall of confidence, not caring what anyone thought of her. Like fresh air personified next to all the stuffy, pompousidiots in the room. He crafted a response part in truth and part to vex her. “I wouldn’t have to pretend. Who wouldn’t like a little pixie?”
She cast her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “I forget, there is no end to your flirtations.”
He did tend to flirt with her when they were together. He had found it the best technique to disarm her and send her squirming. It was the most satisfying sensation.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Just be yourself and we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“Ah, but can you manage to be convincing in your affection for me?” Now this he would happily sign up for.
“I don’t have to pretend anything. I only have to tolerate you enough for Ruth to feel comfortable in your presence.”
He chuckled. “Ah, but what about Mr. Dobson?” He expected that was the real reason behind her willingness to aid him. “If you don’t do a little pretending on your own, he might continue his pursuit and make a mess of everything.” He could see in her eyes the moment his point landed. Mr. Dobson was a singular man and not at all right for the woman across from him. If they were going to strike a deal, they might as well be thorough.
“I despise that man,” she grumbled.
“I know.”
She stole a glance at his sister. “Can I at least tell Bridget that it’s an act?”
“If you do, she will only question why, and then what will you say?”
Her gaze flicked to Bridget again. “I cannot deceive her.”
