Page 22 of Married By Twelfth Night
She curtsied but said nothing.
He smothered his sigh before it could escape. He hoped his cousins were faring better than he was with their Twelfth Night matches. Apparently, his was still afraid of him. He looked beyond Ruth to her sister, who was stepping toward him. Grace’s gown of choice was more bold. It consisted of a white bodice with a dark-purple overlay. But it was her eyes that arrested him. They were smiling at him in a knowing way that made him a little uneasy but captivated nonetheless.
“Miss Steele,” he said, dipping his head. He held her eyes, framing a question with his own. “You look a picture this evening.”
“I thank you for the compliment.” She held his gaze a moment longer before turning to her sister. “Ruth, isn’t Mr. Graham exceptionally kind?”
He tried not to appear surprised. Any time Grace said something nice about him it felt like a gigantic lie.
Ruth looked at him for a brief moment before answering her sister. “Mr. Graham is always kind.”
“When he wants to be,” Bridget interjected from beside him. “Tonight he is redeeming himself by playing host.”
“Did I need redeeming?” he asked.
Grace was quick to nod. “Very much so.”
Ruth frowned and Grace quickly shook her head as if she regretted her words. “I meant that we have not dined together for some time, and I am glad that it has been remedied.”
Richard noticed Bridget’s curious look, but Ruth’s was what concerned him. She had a knowing look, like she saw right through her sister’s intentions. Was that a good thing or bad?
He greeted Mr. and Mrs. Steele next. Mr. Steele set his arm on Richard’s shoulder, his grip strong and his whiskered face happy. “It’s good for our families to be spending so much timetogether, Graham.”
“It is,” Richard said, suddenly a little nervous. He held great respect for Mr. Steele, and he had the feeling that the man would welcome him as a son-in-law. The idea was still daunting to him. They visited for a few minutes before dinner was announced.
Bridget had done all the arranging, so once at the head of the table, he was surprised to find himself seated next to Mr. Steele and Mrs. Steele on one side of him and Grace on the other. Ruth was beside her and Bridget at the end. He could easily understand why Bridget had not placed herself beside him, but not her dearest friend?
Mr. and Mrs. Steele started discussing a painting of fruit on the wall that had been done by a neighbor years before.
“I thought you had died,” Grace whispered, picking up her napkin.
He had almost missed her words. “Me?”
“In a duel. Shot by Mr. Dobson in an ignominious defeat.” Her mouth barely moved, but this time he caught every unbelievable word.
Richard lifted his glass to his mouth and spoke quickly before taking a sip. “Mr. Dobson—kill me? You sorely underestimate me.”
“Do I? Am I to understand that you killed Mr. Dobson then?”
He frowned, almost forgetting to be inconspicuous. “Why dirty my hands when a simple bribe would suffice?”
“Bribe?”
Mr. and Mrs. Steele took that opportunity to cease speaking, and everyone heard her.
Mrs. Steele’s lips formed a stern line. “Grace, dear, why are you speaking of bribes at the dinner table?”
Grace grimaced. “Er—I was, uh . . .”
He jumped in to save her. “Miss Steele heard we were serving Blakewell pudding tonight and jokingly requested we serve it for the first course. The offered bribe was not made in earnest, I assure you.”
Grace shot him a surprised but grateful look.
“Ah,” Mrs. Steele said.
Mr. Steele chuckled. “My daughter takes after me. I admit, I have not had Blakewell pudding in some time and have quite the liking for it. I believe it is the flaky pastry base that makes it so delicious.”
Bridget joined in. “My favorite is the layer of sieved jam.”
