Page 52 of Married By Twelfth Night
When Grace looked at him in the middle of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” her broad grin made him laugh. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, despite the abysmal treatment she had received from his aunt. He didn’t care if she couldn’t carry a tune, he loved her.
He loved her.
The thought made him smile all the wider. He didn’t know much about love, but if there was a defining emotion, this had to be it—a simultaneous increase of happiness, along with a settling peace. And more than anything, a tug he could barely resist toward the beautiful woman at his side.
This was how he wanted to celebrate all his Christmases. When Aunt tried to sit out the second song, he insisted they sing another.He didn’t push for a third, knowing she was likely worn to pieces, but he wished he could have. There was something special about singing the songs about Christ, and even more when surrounded by his family and Grace. He wished Mother had been there to have been a part of it. She would have loved it.
After the singing, they had a tedious conversation where Aunt pelted Grace with questions about philosophy and the great poets. Grace was not uneducated, and her comments were smart and witty, but they were not bookish enough to please his aunt. After every comment she made, Aunt Edith would give him a disapproving glance.
When the evening was drawing to a close, Aunt Edith complained of her stomach ailing her and insisted he take her to bed while Bridget saw their guest to the door. After seeing Aunt had everything she needed in her bedchamber, he returned downstairs, surprised to discover Bridget and Grace still in the entrance hall. Upon seeing him, Bridget made an excuse and left them alone. He had a feeling Aunt would suddenly descend on them from upstairs and set off a second cry of alarm.
“I thought I might have missed saying goodnight,” he said to Grace.
She smiled. “Bridget’s apologies were long-winded. I think she was hoping you would return before I left.”
“I’m glad she kept you here. My aunt can be . . . a lot. But you weathered the evening like a brave soldier. I was impressed you did not desert us. Please tell me you weren’t rattled too much.”
“A little,” she admitted. “But mostly because I know what her visit must mean for you.”
“It could mean everything.” He shrugged. “But I would rather talk about something less foreboding. You, for example. I was remiss in telling you how lovely youlook tonight.”
In the dim light, her cheeks were already a rosy hue, but her eyes rounded. “I do try a little harder on Christmas.”
“Oh? Here I was hoping you were trying for me.”
She laughed, but he swore she looked a tad guilty. “Is that what you think?” She quickly wrapped her cloak over her shoulders and tucked her gloved hands beneath the folds. “It’s late, and I am sure my carriage is ready. Thank you for letting me join your Christmas dinner.”
He nodded, stepping forward to cut off her escape. “Thank you for visiting my dreams.”
Her eyes drew all the wider and her mouth fell open. “I was just . . . you were just . . .”
He chuckled, loving the way she reacted to him. “I know, Gracie. No harm done.”
She clamped her mouth shut only to open it again a moment later. “There is something I need to speak to you about.”
He inched closer. “I need to speak to you too.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “When?”
He tried not to stare at it. When was a good question. Aunt would not like him disappearing from her sight when she so rarely visited. But this was important too. “Tomorrow? Shall I call on you?”
“We’ll never get a moment alone.”
“Oh? You want to be alone with me?” He couldn’t resist a smug, thoroughly satisfied smile.
She threw her gaze to the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”
He gently touched the edge of her cloak by her arm, coming as close as he dared to her. “Impossible does seem to be the reigning word today, but there are only two small letters to remove to make the word possible. Don’t you have any faith in me?”
Her smile slowly returned, her voice serious. “More than I used to.”
He savored the words. “That’s progress already.”
She didn’t look away, and it nearly killed him that he had to send her home at all. Finally, she lowered her gaze to the floor. “Will you be coming to propose to Ruth? I should like to prepare myself.”
Ruth? He had momentarily forgotten about Grace’s sister or that she would be there when he came. His smile drooped. “No. Not tomorrow.” He wanted to tell her that he would never propose to her sister, but the words would not come.
She nodded, and the lines by her eyes softened as if she understood what he could not say. “Goodnight, Richie.”
