Page 64 of Married By Twelfth Night
He put his finger to her lips, as if sensing her argument. “I don’t have all the answers yet. I have some business to work out first. Will you wait for me? I am not certain how long it will take us to sort everything.”
She thought of her aunt’s letter inviting her to London but immediately tossed the idea aside. “Of course, I will wait.”
He kissed her again, this time a short peck that was not nearly long enough. “I will come to see you as soon as we return.”
She nodded, reluctantly releasing him. Happiness swirled with guilt. In accepting his love, she was ruining so much for him and his family. Were they making the right choice?
He swiped her bonnet from the floor and set it back on her head, smoothing the hair by her cheeks that had no doubt become loosened during his kisses. His hand slid to her ribbons, and she watched amazed as he tied it for her. His gentle, featherlike touch on her neck sent gooseflesh down the whole of her.
When he met her gaze again, he winked and stepped back. “Don’t forget to miss me. You know how I appreciate it when you long for my return.”
Laughing, she gave him a playful shove. “Hurry so I do not have to pine overlong.”
He dipped his head and left her alone in the entrance hall of Belside. She should have left at the same time, but this manor had become so much like her own that she had forgotten it wasnot her home too.
Turning in a circle, she studied the thick white trim edged with gold paint, the columns by the door, the pale painted walls, the gleaming crystal chandelier. She had been weak just now, letting Richard give all of this up.
Sighing, she relented to leave the decision with him. Meeting with his solicitor could jolt him back to the harsh reality of his situation, but she had promised to wait for him, and she would.
Chapter 29
Of all the virtuesher parents could have named her, it was wise of them not to have christened her Patience. Waiting for Richard was impossibly hard. Her ears strained for the sound of carriage wheels on the drive, every bump of noise resembling a knock on the front door and every minute passing slower than the previous one.
Three long days away from Richard were enough to drive a woman mad.
What was happening? Had he changed his mind? It was the new year, and there were still a few days left until Twelfth Night . . . still time for him and Ruth to marry. As for her, she would go to London and cry the whole time, only to return to marry Mr. Dobson.
“Grace, you do not look well at all,” Ruth said, finding her by the window in the drawing room.
Grace leaned against the cold glass where she had the best view of the road. “I’m not quite myself, but I am well enough.”
“We haven’t seen Mr. Graham or Bridget for a few days now, and you have not left the house to visit them. Is everything all right between you?”
Mother had asked the same thing that very morning. Grace had thought Richard had asked Papa for Ruth’s hand at their last dinner together, but no one seemed to think anything of that sort. Indeed,they dropped hints that they assumed he would ask for Grace’s any day now. She couldn’t bring herself to respond to their insinuations.
“They have left town.”
Ruth’s brow rose and she tilted her chin. “You never said anything. Where did they go and for how long?”
She did not think it her place to explain about Graham’s finances. Whether Richard proposed marriage to Ruth or not, their secret would not stay covered for long. But the details would not be gossiped about from her. “I cannot say exactly. I thought they would be back by now.”
Ruth squeezed in on the window ledge beside her. “Did they go to Bath to fetch Mrs. Graham?”
“No, Mrs. Graham returned just before they left.”
Ruth smiled. “Do you not think it’s strange how ingrained you are into their family?”
Grace shook her head. “Of course not. I love them. And it is only natural for a person to know about the ones they care for.”
“You love all of them? But especially Mr. Graham?”
She met Ruth’s knowing gaze and could not look away.
Ruth grinned. “I have been waiting years for you to admit it.”
“Years?” She repeated, unable to deny what her sister had seen.
Ruth nodded. “There is not a man’s name you have spoken more than his. I think it’s wonderful too. I, myself, will never settle for less than love.”
