Page 20 of Married By Twelfth Night
“Will you sit, Mr. Graham?” Grace asked. With the slightest nudge of her head, she motioned to the half cushion of space between her and Mr. Dobson.
Richard was no small man, and his brow slowly lifted.
She understood his concern, but it was hardly the time to consider his comfort. What about hers? He owed her after their time ice-skating. Hadn’t she done her part well enough? She motioned again to the spot beside her, her eyes widening this time for emphasis.
He flashed a smile that nearly masked his hesitation. “Uh, I think I will sit, thank you. He came directly toward them. “Excuse me.” And then without preamble, he tried to sit exactly where she wanted him—where he could block out Mr. Dobson from her view. His effort was worthy, although perhaps she had misjudged his abilities. He practically sat on one of her legs, and by the sound of Mr. Dobson’s voice, he had done the same to his.
“Oof!” she groaned, shoving the large man. Worse than the burning in her leg from the sudden unsolicited touch, he smelled like he’d just walked off Mount Olympus carrying the musk of the gods with him. Heaven help her.
Mr. Dobson must have shifted because Richard moved over, giving her room to breathe normal air again. Her cheeks remained flushed with heat, and she discreetly batted her hand to cool them. Where was her fan when she needed it?
“This is comfortable.” Richard’s tone was absent of sarcasm, but his words were anything but.
“Hardly,” Mr. Dobson grumbled.
Grace smoothed her dress, attempting to recover her composure, and then looked sideways at Richard. “You’re late.”
“Am I?”
She nodded, noting for the first time the fatigue lines around his eyes. Had he not been sleeping well? “Very late. By three days.”
He coughed into his hand, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. “Miss Steele, it is a privilege to have you count the passage of time until you see me again. I deeply apologize for my prolonged absence from your side. It was a great sacrifice to keep myself away.”
She smiled prettily at him. “I do appreciate your apology, but my forgiveness is not so easily won. I do hope you willendeavor to make up for your lapse in judgment.” She looked pointedly past him to Mr. Dobson.
Richard turned to the man, which clearly took some effort to avoid their knees hitting and mostly consisted of a slight movement of his head and shoulders. “Is it just me or does courting a woman take more effort with each passing generation?”
“I am not old enough to know,” Mr. Dobson said.
“Ah, perhaps it is my astute wisdom with such cases as these,” he said. “But it is no matter. I am helpless when Miss Steele asks anything of me.”
Her brow rose. “Oh? I shall endeavor to remember that.”
“Surely you speak of MissRuthSteele,” Mr. Dobson said, his voice growing thin.
Richard scratched the back of his head. “Ah, I can see how you might have been mistaken. Were it not uncouth to discuss such personal details of preference with the ladies present, I would endeavor to explain.”
Mr. Dobson’s frustration seemed to be climbing at the same rate as his breeches. Grace blinked twice and leaned forward slightly. He was gripping the fabric at the knees and . . . yes, the buttons on the bottom of his breeches just above his boots were missing. They were probably the six new ones added to his collection.
“By all means,” Mr. Dobson said, sticking his chin in the air. “Let us step into the corridor where we can have privacy.”
“Now?” Richard asked.
Mr. Dobson gave a firm nod. “I see no reason to delay the discussion of preference, as my own should be made known to you forthwith.”
Richard looked at her for help, but she pretended not to notice. But what was the phrase? He had made his bed and must lie in it? Yes, thatwas the one. Let him lie down, forthwith. And preferably before she started laughing.
“Very well.” Richard stood and Mr. Dobson followed. She watched them leave the room before she sat back and sighed with satisfaction. Finally, Richard was proving his worth.
“Grace,” Ruth hedged. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”
Grace hadn’t even noticed the music stop again. “I . . . don’t know what you could mean.”
“Grace,” she hissed. “Are those two men fighting over you?”
“I certainly hope so.”
Ruth groaned. “What if there is a duel?”
