Page 8 of Married By Twelfth Night
Mama made a hand motion signaling for Ruth to lower the book. She did, but with a great deal of reluctance. “Ruth, dear, tell Mr. Dobson about what you’ve been reading. I am sure he would be happy to hear it.”
“I would?” Mr. Dobson cleared his throat. “I would.”
Well, done, Mr. Dobson.Grace bit back her laugh.
Mr. Reed, who had never seemed a more dutiful butler than in that moment, stepped in the doorway. His timely appearance hid her slipping smile.
“What is it, Mr. Reed?” Mama asked.
“Mr. Graham is here, Mrs. Steele.”
Mama’s eyes lit like a candle. “Truly? How wonderful.” She reached over and squeezed Grace’s hands. If Mr. Dobson had not been here, she expected Mama might have squealed with sheer delight.
Grace tried not to roll her eyes. He was likely coming to see Papa. That was the only reason he ever came to Callis Hall.
Everyone stood and heralded Mr. Graham’s arrival.
“Good morning,” Mr. Graham said cheerfully. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
“Not at all, Mr. Graham,” Mama said, trumping him in enthusiasm. “Move over, Grace, and make room.”
Grace didn’t move. “You are not here for my father?” she asked, giving Richard his opening to escape.
He shook his head, his eyes a tad mischievous. “Not at all. I had hoped to visit with the Misses Steeles, and I am pleased to see you are receiving guests.”
Something wasn’t right. Graham never visited with her or her sister. He only ever came to talk about estate business with Papa or whatever else it was men discussed. Despite the suspicions that were no doubt written on her face, Grace scooped up the excess of her flowy skirt and scooted down a cushion toward Mama.
Mr. Graham strode toward the open seat. He flipped up the back of his jacket as he sat, his great legs crossing toward her, and his arm going up to rest on the back of the sofa. Grace had the sudden urgeto remind him that this was not his home, and he shouldn’t act like it was.
Even if she acted likehishome was hers on occasion.
It wasn’t the same though. She had always been that way at Belside, but he was generally not around enough to care.
No one spoke for a moment. Mr. Dobson grew annoyed, Ruth bored, and Mama gleeful. Grace leaned over and whispered to Richard, “Why are you here?”
He leaned in too. “For pleasure.”
She cast her gaze to the ceiling, not believing him for a moment.
“Miss Steele,” Richard addressed Ruth. “With the sun shining and the last of our good days quickly waning for the year, I wonder if you would accompany me on a walk about the garden.”
Ruth said nothing. Her eyes, on the other hand, said plenty. They went wide as a terrified rabbit, ready to flee for its life.
What was Richard playing at? Why did he want to walk with Ruth? It made absolutely no sense. He had never shown her the slightest interest in all these years.
“Ruth, dear,” Mama prodded. “Mr. Graham asked you a question.” Her brows rose multiple times and her head motioned to Mr. Graham.
Grace resisted covering her eyes with her hand, but just barely.
“I . . . I . . .” Ruth stammered, her cheeks blazing red.
“Yes!” Mama declared. “Yes, she will walk with you. Dear, send a maid to fetch your warmest cloak.”
Ruth practically jumped to her feet. Her book dropped and skidded across the rug. She scrambled to retrieve it and tripped on her dress as she straightened. Her face resembled both the green and pink hues in their Axminster rug. Ruth whimpered and rushed from the room.
“I should like to walk too,” Mr. Dobson said, his face full of resolve, and his small chest puffing out. “Miss Steele? Would you join me?”
“No, thank y—”
