Page 58 of Married By Twelfth Night
Dinner finally ended, and they gathered in the drawing room. Music took over as the source of entertainment. Ruth played marvelously. Grace sat by Bridget, but though Richard stood on the other end of the room, she could feel the heat of his stare on her.
It was no use. She didn’t want him to ask for Ruth’s hand. She didn’t want him to be an honorable man. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for her selfish thoughts.
In the middle of a piece by Handel, Richard pulled her father aside and the two of them slipped from the room. Grace’s heart thudded like the drums before an execution. He would ask for Ruth’s hand, and it would be over. And she had no intention of standing in his way.
As they gathered at the door to bid goodnight, Grace could not meet Richard’s eye. She didn’t want to see how he felt. Relieved? Guilty? Sad? Richard exited first, then Bridget. Lady Edith was last.
“Wait.” She couldn’t let Lady Edith leave without speaking her peace. She hurried to her side. “I thought of one last riddle for you to take with you.”
Surprisingly the interruption did not bring a frown. “Oh? All right. I find I enjoy these little guessing games. Tell me what it is.”
Grace was happy she had pleased her, but this riddle was not meant for entertainment. She spoke slowly, forming the right words in the moment. “Twelfth Night brings an unexpected plan concerning heart, home, and a precious land. Hands are joined, hearts are torn. I have the power to bring love or scorn. Who am I?”
Lady Edith’s wrinkled brow furrowed in question.
Grace did not wait for her to respond. “Please consider what I have said. Goodnight and safe travels.”
Lady Edith eyed her strangely, her voice thoughtful. “Goodnight, Miss Steele.”
Chapter 25
“This morning has beena complete and utter disaster.” Bridget folded her arms across her chest and glared at him from the bottom of the staircase.
He caught the faint noise of Aunt Edith’s carriage rumbling out of their drive on her way to York to visit his cousin Rose. He wished her better luck than he had had. “Aunt Edith is convinced Ruth is perfect for me.”
“Like I said, it’s a disaster.”
He agreed, but nothing he said now would comfort either of them. They had both tried to sway her to accept Grace. They had at least made progress in helping her to believe Grace was not a heathen. Dinner with her family had helped with that. He sighed. But one evening with Ruth and her music and Aunt had been smitten by her completely. Aunt’s final parting had included a warning to marry Ruth or lose the money.
Bridget spun on her heel and marched up the stairs to her bedchamber. He wished to behave the same way, but it wouldn’t change their situation. It had been silly to rely on Aunt anyway. No matter how hard he tried, nothing could entice him to rush to the altar with Grace’s sister.
Concerns for his mother sent him to his office to review the investment proposition from his solicitor again. He pored over numbers forhours, weighing different scenarios and cost-to-benefit considerations as a single miscalculation might spell ruin for his family. Could he risk everything he had? Would Grace still have him if he failed?
As the morning turned to early afternoon, he stood to stretch his legs, making his way to the drawing room. The house felt incredibly empty and quiet. Maybe Grace would come to visit and—
He broke off the trail of his thoughts. No Grace wouldn’t come. Not today. Not for a while probably. And surely not when he was home.
Bridget sat on the sofa and turned away from him as he entered the room. Was she still angry with him? She had every right to be. He was failing in every direction he looked.
Richard went straight to the fireplace and rested his forearms on the mantle, letting it bear his weight as he leaned heavily against it. Bridget sniffed behind him, pouring salt into his wounded heart. He hated it when she cried.
The room was quiet for a time. His sister, no doubt, silently cursed his failures while he ruminated over the same thing. The curling flames licked the logs beneath the hearth. It might as well have been his budding hopes and dreams for the future being burned to a crisp. He missed Grace already, and he had been parted from her for less than a day. She would know how to comfort Bridget. Her presence would comfort him too. Grinding his teeth together, he prayed for fortitude.
“I’ve always wanted to call Grace my sister.” Bridget’s words were hardly more than a whisper, but they effectively broke the silence between them and froze him in place. “I was willing to give up my position as her best friend, knowing you would stand in that prominent place after you wed—indeed, I have seen you already sliding into that role these past weeks.” He listened intently to her slowly spun words,each one weighted and heavy. “She’s already family to me, Richard, and she means more to me than this old house.”
He pushed away from the mantel and turned to face her. “In truth?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his, wiping at her wet cheeks. “Believe me when I say, I want you to be happy. Marry whomever you choose, but you know who I would pick for you.”
Sudden emotion clawed at his throat, and he tried to swallow it down. “Dare I choose the same woman who would murder me in my bed should I vex her?”
A small smile touched her mouth. “The very same.”
A soft chuckle escaped. “We Grahams have good taste.”
“The very best.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and dropped his gaze to the blue Axminster carpet at his feet. “I appreciate having you on my side, but if it was just about you or me, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. I would forget the state of our finances and be on Grace’s doorstep begging for her hand. I love her, Bridget. I love her so much that if I cannot discover a solution, I might go mad.” He was breathing hard. He met Bridget’s wide, sorrowful eyes. “But nothing is so simple. What about your future? Your happiness wears on my conscience. And what about Mother?”
