Page 27 of Married By Twelfth Night
Richard heaved a sigh. “Thank you for being honest with me, Gracie. My inadequacies have never been so prominent before, but I still needed to hear it.”
No one was better at highlighting his failings than her, but didn’t he realize how much he had to offer? “They love you, you know. Because of who you already are.”
He sighed. “I wish that were enough.”
“Do you really think it’s not?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I do. There is too much I cannot control—the money, the house. It weighs on me.”
Shame pricked her conscience so deeply she wanted to curl in on herself. “I’m sorry if my . . . my rudeness . . . added to your burdens.”
“Nonsense. Sparring with you is the only entertainment I get these days.” He forced a smile, but she saw through it this time. How often had his smiles been pretend?
“I will try to see that as a compliment.”
“It is, Gracie, I promise. Your father knows a little of our situation, as does my solicitor, and a few friends I have reached out to for financial advice, but they do not know anything about my family. I prefer it that way. But you,” he paused, his gaze studying her own, “you know it all.”
The moment felt undeniably private, like he had opened a door and invited her in. He could have told any number of women about his problems. They certainly flocked after him when out in Society, but he was telling her instead. She knew it was because of her history with the family, but was there more to it? “Why do I have a feeling that no one really knows it all? Do you have anyone you confide in, Richard?”
“Not candidly like this, no. My friends are generally the fair-weather sort. I don’t know if I have ever needed a confidante before. It feels refreshing to have some of this off my chest. I thank you for listening.”
Daring not to speak for fear of breaking a spell his unguarded words had set on her, she ducked her head. She couldn’t understand it—or him—but he needed a friend, and she suddenly wanted so dearly to be that person. She forced her head to lift again. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I want to listen.”
“Do you?” He searched her gaze as if looking for more than just the answer to this question, and in doing so, set off a tingle of feeling through her limbs.
She felt sheepish, but she spoke the feelings on her mind anyway. “I know I have not been someone you could call a friend in the past, but I can be relied upon, should you need me.”
“Not just because of the loyalty to my family?”
She thought carefully on her answer. “Perhaps initially, but I believe we can have a friendship of our own.” And surprisingly, she meant it. Bridget would never believe it.Shewas having trouble believing it. It would take more curbing of her tongue, but she could try.
“I should like that,” he said, “. . . to be friends.”
She held his gaze before dipping a quick nod of agreement.
“Friendship has two ends to it,” he said. “I will listen to your troubles as well.”
“My troubles are nothing.” She hastily dismissed her problems. They were not comparable to a threat on one’s home.
“No matter the size or breadth, it doesn’t matter to a true friend. Perhaps someday you can tell me why you want to go to London when I know you don’t care a fig about the city itself.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that shedidlike the city, but caught herself. If she meant what she had said about friendship, she had to trust Richard in return. “I do prefer the countryside. I only want to find a husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She was giving him more fodder to tease her about.
He did not laugh, however. Bless him for that. “Do you not think you can find a husband here?” he asked, adjusting the brim of his hat.
She shook her head. “Not unless I accept Mr. Dobson.”
The look of disgust he sent her way nearly made her laugh.
“Listen, Gracie, I won’t tell you all the reasons I think you’re wrong about this husband business, because I do not think we are good enough friends yet for you to believe me. But I will say that I hope you find the happiness you’re searching for. You deserve it.”
His words were always teasing and insincere, but there was not even the smallest hint of sarcasm. She turned her head forward, thinking over his words and noticing the newly falling snow for the first time. The flakes were small, almost imperceptible, but only inches from her nose. How could she not notice something right in front of her?
Like the fact that she and Richard could be friends.
She had always been very aware of him, but somehow after their conversation her senses were heightened. The shift of his arm, the clenching of his jaw, and the way he searched his surroundings and took in every detail. But it was his thoughts she wanted to know better. What else had he endured? Would he keep confiding in her? This was new territory. It should have scared her, but oddly, it did not.
Upon returning to the house and descending the carriage, Richard took her gloved hand in his.
