Page 38 of Married By Twelfth Night
Ruth’s voice was quiet but steady and still so unfamiliar to him after all these years as her neighbor. But she was warming to him, that he could tell.
“A fine idea, Miss Steele,” he acknowledged. “Our gardener, Mr. Peters, loves a challenge. I will ask him if he is available. Should I have the carriage readied?” A bit of cold, fresh air sounded like just the thing to snap him from his mood.
“Oh, yes,” Bridget said. “We cannot continue on our project without our mistletoe.”
He left the room long enough to send a servant to ready the carriage and ask for Mr. Peters’s assistance. When he returned, the women stood to gather their cloaks.
“This mistletoe business sounds like more treasure hunting,” Grace said to him, coming around the sofa toward him, while Ruth and Bridget continued to discuss their plans. “No one is allowed to stop me if I decide to climb one of these trees to fetch the berries myself.”
He smirked. “No one could stop you from doing anything should you have a mind to. Even if we tried.”
She made a face. “Certainly not you. If you tell me no, then I will only be more determined.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Hmm, good question. Then I will probably still do it.”
He shook his head. She was already distracting him, and he was so thankful for it. “Then you want me to agree with you on everything?”
“That would make my life easier.”
He wanted to agree with her then and there, forever. All she had to do was ask something of him, and he would be a fool enough to do it. He held the drawing room door open a little wider, allowing her to pass through it. “What about in reverse? Would you make my life easier and agree with me on everything too?”
“Maybe on a few things, since I can be generous, but not everything.” He did not know if it was intentional or not, but in that moment, she looked back at Ruth and frowned.
Was she starting to believe that Ruth would never marry him? It wasn’t the sort of news he needed at the moment.
When Grace met his gaze again, her frown was gone and she produced a small smile. “What’s wrong, Richie? You seem out of sorts.”
He hadn’t expected her question. “Me?”
“Yes, you."
“I know I can be very disagreeable where you’re concerned, but I have been trying harder lately. I did promise to listen too, remember?”
She eyed him, taking his measure in an exaggerated fashion. “You have been marginally better. I’ve noticed.”
He grinned. “Have you?”
“Yes.” She dropped her pretense and clasped her hands together in front of her skirt. “You smile more readily.”
“I do?”
She nodded. “I believe you’ve improved in other areas too.”
“How so?”
“You seem to care more about what’s happening around you.”
“I hope so. You know, you’ve changed too.”
“Me?”
He reached up and tapped her cheek. “You blush more.”
Her face burned the moment the words left his mouth. “I . . . I do?” She covered her cheeks with her hands.
Without thinking, he set his hands on her wrists and pulled her hands down. “Don’t. I like your blush.”
