Page 30 of Married By Twelfth Night
“Why on earth are you carrying that dusty old crate?” Grace asked with a laugh.
“You mean a box of treasures?”
“Treasures?” Now he had her complete attention.
“You aren’t the only one who has been cleaning today. Bridget and I went back into the attic this morning after breakfast for a little fun. She helped me pack up a few items your family might enjoy.”
She hurried over to him, eager to see what he’d brought. Unfortunately, he was too tall for her to see anything. “Set it down in the corridor. We just beat out the rugs in here.”
“So, you won then?” he asked from over the top of the crate on his way back through the drawing room door.
“Won what?”
“You said you beat the rugs.”
She snorted. She was a fan of puns and riddles, as he well knew, but this one was very bad. “I am excessively good at winning against rugs. Do you even have to ask? You can set the crate on the side table.” She hurried to move the vase back.
He stepped back from the crate and brushed at the line of dust on his waistcoat and the lapels of his jacket. It was no use. The dust wasn’t budging.
“You should have thought to wear an apron,” she said, now quite proud of her attire. She couldn’t imagine Richard, in his dapper clothes, donning such a lowly clothing item.
“Not all of us can look as good in an apron as you do.”
Aw, the teasing Richard was back. She picked up the bottom of her apron to relieve him. “Here. Let me help.”
She brushed the coarse white fabric against his dark-green jacket. It did help a little.
He picked up the other corner of her apron and started brushing off his other side.
She glanced up at him the same time he met her gaze, and her hand froze. They were standing very close together. And was there. . . heat . . . emanating from his body?
He gave an uneasy chuckle. “I daresay this looks a little awkward.”
“Agreed.” He dropped her apron the same time she did.
She took a quick step backward, her hands fiddling with her apron strings until they were untied. Removing it, she handed it to him so he could clean his jacket himself.
“Thank you.”
She nodded and turned to his crate. It was at a height now that she could see what was inside. Laughing at what she saw, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He lifted up the white glove on top and handed it to her. “What is not to understand? This is a treasure, just as I said.”
“It’s so heavy.”
“It’s one of my old fencing gloves. They are too tight for my hands now, so I thought to make a present out of them for Tobias.”
“For me?”
That boy had ears like a hawk. He skipped down the stairs and rounded the corner to where she and Richard stood. It was a good thing he hadn’t come a minute or two earlier and caught her and Richard in an awkward position. Tobias took the glove from her hand and grinned. “It’s hardly worn.”
“I grew three inches the year my father gave those to me. I might have worn them twice. They’re yours if you want them.”
Mrs. Steele and Ruth came down the corridor from the library. “I thought I heard your voice, Mr. Graham,” Mrs. Steele said. “It is so nice seeing you so often. I hope you are coming to our card party tomorrow.”
“Of course. Bridget would not let me miss it. She would have accompanied me today, but she is thoroughly diverted playing dress-up with my grandmother’s old gowns we discovered in the attic.”
Grace put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. What would Bridget think when she discovered there were no buttons on them?
