Page 18 of Married By Twelfth Night
Bridget unscrambled the word and bent over it. “Courtship?”
Ruth stood. “Thank you for the skating and refreshments.” She actually met Richard’s eyes when she spoke. “Good day to you all.”
“Wait for me,” Tobias said, pulling himself off the floor. “This game is getting too personal for my taste.”
“I will see you out,” Bridget gave Richard and Grace a peculiar look and followed the others from the drawing room.
An awkward air settled between him and Grace. He scratched his chin and turned to her. “That went well.”
She covered her mouth but the slight shake of her shoulders gave away her silent laugh.
“What’s so humorous?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“What?”
“The poor souls. They actually believe that you . . . that we . . .” her laugh slipped out. “I’m sorry. It’s unfathomable.”
Why didn’t he think it was funny? Granted, he wasn’t proud of deceiving anyone, least of all his sister and neighbors. But why did she persist in thinking the worst of him? What was so wrong with her liking him? He could see himself liking her. Maybe. If he tried. He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought.
“What is it? You look in poor humor all of the sudden.”
“I’m never in poor humor. I do not get upset easily.”
She leaned against the tea table. “You’re right. If there is something worth admiring about you, it’s probably that. But how do you explain that frown of irritation?”
His forced smile came readily after a year and more of practice and he gave her an indirect response. “You have not taken me up on it before, but if you recall, I have offered plenty of times to list some of my finer attributes for you to acquaint yourself with. I can never understand these frequent occasions where you seem to struggle to grasp my good qualities while everyone else has no trouble in discovering them withease.”
She tapped her lips in simple mockery. “And yet you fail to understand that in making such a list, you are demonstrating your sense of self-importance that I continually disdain.”
“You two,” Bridget shook her head from the doorway. “The minute I think there is a truce between you, I am proved wrong. That game—never mind the particulars—is proof it is possible. Do try, for my sake. It can be most difficult living with you both.”
“I don’t live here,” Grace said, the same time he said, “She doesn’t live here.”
Bridget huffed. “I suppose not, but Grace is as much a sister to me and is welcome anywhere I am. And my brother, obviously, owns this house, so the two of you need to learn to get along.”
No one had more patience for his and Grace’s bickering than Bridget, but it seemed she had met her limit.
“Bridget,” Grace began.
“I know,” Bridget said, holding up her hand, “you think it impossible. But a sudden idea has come to my head.”
“Go ahead,” Richard prompted.
“We are going to spend more time in each other’s company.”
Instinctively, Richard looked at Grace, whose gaze swung to meet his. How incredibly fortuitous of his sister.
“I agree,” he said, slapping his knee. “I have been focusing far too much on the estate. With the holiday nearly upon us, there is no reason I cannot step back and be with my family.”
“I’m not family,” Grace said from beside him.
He set his forearms on his thighs and leaned toward her, lowering his voice for her to hear. “Yet,” he said.
She pressed her lips together and whispered. “Is it inevitable?”
“Very.” Her much too sea blue eyes widened, and he took a moment to appreciate them. Maybe his children would be lucky enough toinherit their aunt’s features. But if they did, they’d better put a little more softness behind their gazes. He knew exactly what Grace thought of him, and it had nothing to do with flattering thoughts about his own eyes.
