18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Grace struggled to pay attention to the Christmas Day sermon. The chapel overflowed with attendants coming to worship for the holiday, and it was the people who provided the greatest distraction to her. Mr. Craig, dressed in a very fine olive dress jacket, sat behind her with his sister, and she could feel his admiring stare on the back of her head. From what she had heard from her mother about his situation, he was from an upstanding family with ideal connections. He was not only available, but interested. And even more remarkable, she hadn’t scared him off yet.

If she was smart, she would consider him.

But her wisdom had been commandeered by a fantasy that had begun yesterday afternoon after one remarkable mistletoe kiss. Admittedly, it had been her first kiss, so she had naught to compare it with, but shouldn’t there have been charts in the Farmers’ Almanac discussing the very complicated emotions produced while kissing under mistletoe? At the very least, the astrology section should have discussed how the very heavens seemed to have held their breath.

No wonder some thought it a heathen plant.

Although, she was quite certain such a light feeling was as divine as any. Even with such a conclusion, she had yet to decide if that feeling was meant to remain or act as a tormenting dream. Thinking of Richard had always been tormenting, so why should this be any different?

But it wasn’t just his kiss. It had been him. The only thing separating her heart from his all these years was her utter conviction of the state of his character. Yesterday, he had proved her completely wrong. First with Miss Coleridge and then with his tenants. He had dipped his head humbly when they had spoken of their gratitude for all he had done for them.

Richard had thoroughly surprised her.

Her thoughts skipped down the bench past her sister, brother, and parents and crossed the aisle. Trailing up one bench more on the opposite side of them sat Richard and Bridget. Her eyes settled on Richard’s handsome profile, her thoughts arresting on the subject of her desire. She could almost feel his jaw beneath her hands.

Some memories were unforgettable.

Kissing Richard Graham would always be one of them.

Richard turned at that moment and met her gaze head on. Her cheeks flooded with warmth, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. The smallest smile touched his lips and the way his almond eyes lifted upward at the corners gave her an unspoken answer to a question that had nagged at her all night and morning.

Had he regretted their kiss?

Nothing in his posture or expression gave her that impression. His smile continued to pull up on one side, and he nodded toward the vicar as if to say he was going to pay attention and she should as well.

He turned his head forward, breaking their silent connection. It was as if their roles had reversed. She would have scolded him in the past if he’d been distracted at church, and now he was the one paying attention and prompting her to do the same. He had grown up, while her mind was a child’s toy ship without navigation .

Ruth elbowed her. “Stop staring or you’ll be the subject of gossip at everyone’s dinner table tonight.”

Her head shifted forward. She did not want to add any more gossip than what would happen naturally when Richard proposed marriage to Ruth. Which he should have already done by now. His time was running out. But did he still care for Ruth? Because she suddenly wanted him to care for her . . .

After the sermon ended, Ruth slipped away to play soft organ music while everyone exited their pews and departed into the brisk weather. Grace’s small frame allowed her to pass her brother by, and her parents, in her haste to leave first. However, she had not been prepared for Mrs. Cottswater, the vicar’s wife, to approach her. Good heavens. That woman could prattle a person’s life away.

Grace stepped right in front of her willowy figure and managed to open her mouth first. “Have you met the Craigs who are visiting?”

“No, I have not. I always love to greet our town’s visitors and invite them to dinner.”

“I will introduce you.” She turned just as the Petersons left their pew, allowing the Craigs to leave next.

“Miss Steele,” Mr. Craig said. “I was hoping to speak to you.”

“Mr. Craig, Miss Craig, how do you do? I have an introduction to make. Everyone in Wetherfield must make the acquaintance of Mrs. Cottswater.” She finished the introduction just as Bridget reached her side. The timing couldn’t have been better. “Will you excuse me? I had promised to speak to Miss Graham.”

Mrs. Cottswater did just as Grace hoped and caught Mr. Craig’s and his sister’s arm and began telling them all about the history of the church building. If she knew her well, Mrs. Cottswater wouldn’t stop until she reviewed the lives of the last seven vicars .

Bridget linked arms with her. “We have so much to talk about.” She looked behind her to allow Grace to see her father speaking to Richard. They often greeted each other, but she knew Bridget’s pointed stare was only for her brother. She wanted to know about their kiss.

“Not in the church!” Grace whispered. “Later.”

Bridget shook her head. “Tobias has already run off to meet up with the Gilbert boys, and your mother will be in conversation with Mrs. Gardener for an age. Let’s speak in your carriage until they’re ready to leave.”

“What about your brother?”

“I cannot predict how long he’ll speak to your father, but I’m willing to risk his annoyance for this very important conversation.”

“Very well, but we had better walk fast.” She didn’t want to risk being pulled back into the conversation with the Craigs and Mrs. Cottswater.

As soon as they were outside, Bridget’s questions began again. “Well, did he propose?”

Grace gave a high-pitched laugh. “No, and save this mortifying interview for the privacy of the carriage, if you please.”

With hurried steps, they reached her family’s carriage and climbed inside. Once the door was shut, Bridget sighed. “Finally. Now tell me everything! Are we to be sisters?”

How to answer? Grace leaned back into the firm upholstery. “There are no plans for an engagement. It was just a kiss—a forced kiss—if you remember.”

“Ruth and I slipped outside as soon as you started kissing. If my brother was not proposing, what took so long?”

She couldn’t tell Bridget that their kiss was what had taken so long. It felt too private, like something she and Richard ought to treasure alone. Which was strange because if she had something to share, she generally wanted it to be with Bridget. “May I ask why you expected Richard to propose? Did he say something to you that led you to believe that?”

Bridget fell back against the opposite seat. “No, he didn’t. Not exactly. But his actions, his attention to you, it all painted a very clear picture of his intentions.”

“Didn’t I tell you that he was interested in Ruth?” Even saying such words hurt.

Bridget sat up again in a rush. “You cannot still be on about that nonsense. While you’re endeavoring to get Ruth by Richard’s side, I’m striving equally hard to keep her away from you two. We really need to be united on this.”

Grace’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Wait, you’re trying to keep her away?”

“Honestly, Grace. You have done impressively well with your tactics to bring Ruth into the picture, but you need to stop being a martyr and see to your own heart. It’s not Ruth I see as my brother’s equal, it’s you.”

Was that even possible? She glanced through the window and caught sight of her mother walking to the carriage with Ruth and Tobias by her side. Just behind them, she spotted her father with Richard. They didn’t have much more time alone in the carriage, but her gaze couldn’t pull away from Richard. He smiled at something Father said. She used to get instantly irritated when she saw that smile. Its perfect curve and those straight teeth were better fit for a portrait in the gallery than someone with real feelings. But now she saw his smile and wondered what had caused it, and if she could do something to make it stay forever.

She knew his heart better and that he was more than a pleasant face to admire who sought others’ happiness before his own. What was wrong with her? Even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. “Good heavens, Bridget. You’re right. Richard can’t marry Ruth.”

Bridget gave a short laugh. “I know. That’s what I have been telling you.”

Grace ripped her gaze from the window to meet Bridget’s confident one. “What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m beginning to care for that vexing man.” Panic built at a rapid pace. What if he had been speaking to her father about Ruth? She couldn’t stand between him and Belside. But what did she do with these overwhelming feelings?

Bridget clapped as she always did when she was excited. “You have to tell him.”

She adamantly shook her head, the pins in her hair loosening. “I don’t have to do anything of the sort.”

“Grace, you are my dearest friend, so I am going to be honest with you. You’re a beautiful, charming woman who has a tendency to chase away any suitor who shows interest in you. If you truly love my brother, I cannot let you do the same to him.”

Grace and Bridget had always been frank with each other, but even though Grace knew this about herself, having Bridget say it out loud struck a painful chord inside her. She did chase men away. And she was good at it. Bridget had been all the companionship she needed until recently, and no one else had made her feel anything—except Richard. She had mistaken her flustered response to him as something she must avoid at all costs. She had been keeping Richard at arm’s length for her entire life, and she didn’t know how to suddenly stop doing that.

“Bridget, I cannot simply—”

“There’s more,” Bridget interrupted. “Not only do you chase away your suitors, you chase away Richard’s too. For years, if you’ve discovered a woman interested in Richard, or vice versa, you’ve chased them away too.”

It was easy enough to recall her efforts to dissuade Miss Harrington, exaggerating how poorly Richard danced, interrupting their conversations and pushing other men her way. She had been less overt with Miss Thorne, but the conclusion had been the same. It wasn’t merely for Bridget’s sake as she had previously justified. It bothered her seeing him with other women. Good gracious, what was wrong with her?

Bridget seemed to guess her internal question. “Can’t you see, you have been in love with Richard for much longer than today.”

Grace couldn’t do anything more than blink. “Upon my word, I’m a terrible person.” She had been contemplating throwing herself between Richard and Ruth.

“Nonsense. You are devoted to those you care for, but when it comes to men—Richard specifically—you will have to adjust your plan of attack.”

“Must I attack? Such phrasing produces results, but not the kind I want. I won’t ruin Richard’s happiness this time. If he is meant to be with Ruth . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence because she did not believe it to be true.

“He is meant to be with the person he cares for in return, and the only way to discover this is to have a frank conversation about it.”

“A very mature strategy.” No scheming. No running away.

“I thought so too.” Bridget pulled on the ends of her gloves. “I plan to have a frank conversation with my mother too, when she returns. It’s high time she lets me attend balls.”

Grace nodded. “You are braver than I. ”

Bridget shook her head. “You are going to be my inspiration. Once you do it, I will have the courage too. Which is why you have to tell him straightaway.”

“How? When?”

“Come for Christmas dinner tonight, and we’ll create a way for you to get him alone.” Before Grace could answer, Bridget swung open the carriage door. “And don’t mince words! Kiss him again if you have to.”

“What?”

But it was too late. Grace’s family had come and Bridget was moving to join her brother. Richard tipped his hat to her in a silent greeting.

She couldn’t respond for fear that she would blurt out how Bridget thought they should kiss again. And what did he think about it?

Good heavens, maybe she should confess before she lost her dignity and did something even more foolish.