Page 26 of Married By Twelfth Night
“Go ahead, Briggs,” he said to the groom, settling back into his seat. He turned to her, his face much too close to hers. “What was that you were saying earlier?”
He was employing this obnoxious behavior on purpose. He wanted her to react, but she was on to him. “I was about to declare how utterly stupid you are.”
His sigh was more of content than the depressed state she wished to inflict. “Oh, good. You aren’t mad.”
She gave a short laugh, despite herself. “No, just annoyed.”
He chuckled. “No one sees my weaknesses like you do, Gracie May. In fact, I sense you enjoy exploiting them.”
“Idosee them quite plainly. Call it a gift.”
He chuckled again. “I cannot imagine why you despise me, but perhaps this is as good a time as any to discover why.”
The last three days had upset her enough to tell him every word of how she’d felt for the entire last year. She opened her mouth to unload her thoughts, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Uh, uh, uh. Let’s remember that I did rid you of Mr. Dobson as promised. You must do your best to temper your words. I can be sensitive, you know.”
“Ha! You have never taken offense to any of my words.”
“That is because I find your insults so entertaining.” His sly, flirtatious grin set her heart pounding.
She hated when that happened. Hated him for making it happen. If he meant anything by them, she could be flattered, but she knew he intended the opposite. “Besides the fact thatyouareyou, and that in and of itself is terribly obnoxious, my frustration with you has doubled exponentially since your return from Oxford.”
“From Oxford?” His brow puckered. “Does my presence keep you and Bridget from your escapades?”
“No one could manage that,” she said. “It is yourutterfailure at being a good brother to Bridget during her time of need.”
His jovialness disappeared in one cold instant. “What do you mean?”
Now that she said it, a sliver of guilt nagged at her middle. But she was justified, and shouldn’t feel bad. “I mean that you neglected Bridget, and her suffering has been my own.”
“Is that what she thinks? That I abandoned her?”
The hurt on his face was much stronger than she imagined it would be, and though she expected such a look of contrition would bring her a measure of satisfaction, it didn’t. “It is what we both think.”
He sighed, his gaze facing forward. “I suppose I’ve been consumed with my own grief and worry about the estate. I’ve been so convinced that I could change Belside’s fate—even seeking financial counsel and guidance on the particulars of running an estate from every intelligent man I know. Keeping Belside in the family feels like keeping Father’smemory alive. I’ve hardly been able to consider anything else since his death.”
It was strange seeing Richard—a man she had thought pompous and nearly perfect—be vulnerable. It felt wrong, confusing, and everything in-between.
“I had no idea,” she admitted a little begrudgingly. When she saw him with his friends, had he been trying to seek their advice? Had she misinterpreted the situation?
He adjusted the brim of his hat, pulling it lower. “Telling anyone the specifics would only garner pity, and pity won’t save Belside.”
There was no doubting the honesty and hints of embarrassment in his voice. She wasn’t supposed to feel compassion for him, but his confession had punctured her anger and new emotions were seeping through. “It isn’t right for anyone to suffer alone.”
Not even him.
He studied her briefly, no doubt surprised she cared at all. “What if I deserve to suffer alone?”
The gruffness in his tone alarmed her. “H-how can you say that?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I have my reasons. One of which is my duty to my family. You can add poor brother and son to your list of my failings. I fooled myself into thinking that Bridget would manage well enough with you by her side, just as I imagined Mother’s melancholy to fade after a few months’ time.”
She didn’t want to add to any list. In fact, she wanted to rip the proverbial thing to shreds. All her anger had deflated, and she wanted to comfort him, to assure him that Belside would weather this crisis, that his mother would rally, and that Bridget would manage without him. But they would be false promises. She could ensure nothing. All these months she had harassed him, when underneath his cheerful facade was a stark layer of pain. Why had she not seen it?
“I tried my best to be there for your mother and sister.” Grace’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But they needed you. They still need you.”
He frowned, heavy brows shadowing his almond eyes. Silence bounced between them like the cadence of the horses. It had been over a year, but sadness visited with every memory of Mr. Graham’s death. A year and a half was not enough to erase the suffering he had unintentionally left in his wake.
