by Esther Hatch
“I know how uninterested you are now. There was a time when you were quite interested in one.”
“Mr. Harrison isn’t titled.”
“He isn’t titled yet. But he is in line to be. You could have been a baroness.”
Sally rubbed her temples. How many times had she tried to get that man’s voice out of her head? Daughters are not a problem. If we have them first I would never be upset with you. Soon enough you would produce an heir. So benevolent. To a woman who had inherited and successfully grown her family's business. So much like her father. So much like any man except her grandfather. “Trust me, I have no desire to be a baroness. At the moment, I am perfectly happy to remain only your sister.”
“Then perhaps I will become a baroness. Just how unattractive is this neighbor? And what is he doing here?”
If Sally only knew. “Heavens if I know. I don’t think he will be here long.”
“Not long enough for me to catch his eye?”
“Victoria, you are much too young to be thinking such things, and he is much too old.” Any man of marriageable age would be too old for Victoria. She didn’t need to know Lord Farnsworth was young enough that in the few short years it would take for Victoria to become a woman, a match between them wouldn’t actually be out of the question. She shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. “I wouldn’t want either of us to end up with a peer. They are so haughty and all they care about is money and appearances.” And male heirs.
“And I have neither.”
The amount of dowry Sally had set aside for Victoria was a small fortune. “You have both, which is why I will protect you from them.”
“What do you mean I have both?”
“If you haven’t looked in a mirror lately, that is your own fault. I don’t need to give you a reason to suffer from vanity.”
“No, I mean the money part. What did you mean about the money part? Sally, what have you done?”
“Grandfather wanted us both to have Vermillion; you were simply too young.” Victoria was going to find out about her dowry at some point, and it might as well be now.
“How much?” Victoria had gone pale. Perhaps this wasn’t the time to tell her.
“I have always considered Vermillion to be ours. Half.”
“My dowry is half the value of Vermillion?” Victoria leaned back in the sofa, eyes blinking.
“Yes.”
“Sally, what have you done?”
“It is what grandfather would have wanted.”
“Men are going to be positively accosting me in London when I come out in society.”
“Would you rather they weren’t? You have always been the romantic one between the two of us.”
“I would rather the insincere ones wouldn’t. How are we going to weed out all the bad ones?”
“I’ll be there. You won’t be the only heiress each Season; there are always quite a few. I cannot believe having money makes it impossible to marry well.”
Victoria took a deep breath. “I suppose I will have to trust you on that one. I hadn’t thought…” She ran a hand along the top of her thigh. “This changes a lot of things for me.”
“I can always take it back if you want, or we can donate it somewhere. If it ever becomes a burden, talk to me and we will figure something out. But no door will be closed to you in London. We have a few more years to prepare for that.”
“But you won’t let me come with you to deliver this monstrosity to the hunting lodge?”
“I will not.”
“Why don’t you simply send a servant to deliver it?”
Sally stopped trying to hide her smile. “Because that would be much less entertaining.” Victoria’s eyes narrowed, but it didn’t matter. Her sister could think what she wanted. Sally was simply returning the favor by bringing a neighborly gift.
A horrid and perplexing but thoughtful gift.
Chapter 11
Oliver’s summary of what Jonathan’s stewards had been able to accomplish at his other estates since the sale of Greenwood Manor was precise and detailed. Many of the tenants’ homes had been reroofed, a problem that had been weighing on Jonathan for months, and several roads had been improved, making it safer for the farmers to take their crops to the market. He folded the letter and placed it inside the writing desk’s drawer.
He tipped his chair back on its hind legs in a manner his mother would have disapproved of and surveyed the dim room surrounding him. Usually the library afforded more light, but the skies were dark today with threatening rain. Compared to his libraries in his other homes, this one was small, but some of his favorite books sat on the shelves and they were easier to find with fewer shelves. People put far too much weight on the grandness of things.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
Howard stepped through the doorway. “There is a woman coming up the path.”
Jonathan leaned forward and the two front legs of his chair slammed down onto the wooden floor. “The path that leads to Greenwood Manor?”
“Yes.”
“And is she walking?”
Howard’s eyes squinted. “Yes. She is walking, not in a carriage.”
“And is it a young woman?” So help him, if he got his hopes up and it was Mrs. Hiddleson coming this way…
“Her step seemed spry to me.”
Jonathan shot up from his chair. “How is my cravat? Is it straight? My hair—” Had he been running his hands through his hair? He did that sometimes when he worked. Howard stepped forward and tugged on one side of his cravat. He only nodded at Jonathan’s hair.
“I shall put her in the front parlor.”
“We only have one parlor here.”
Howard smiled. “It sounds better though, doesn’t it?”
“You don’t need to pretend graces with Miss Duncan. I don’t think she would appreciate it. But, yes, put her in the parlor. I’ll await your knock.”
Howard slipped back out the door and Jonathan paced in front of it. Miss Duncan was coming to see him. What could it be about? Was she going to invite him to join her for tea tomorrow? Or had she discovered his boxing lessons with Victoria? What would she think of that?
Perhaps he should have asked her permission before starting the lessons.
He closed his eyes and tried to picture Miss Duncan being upset over Victoria learning jabs and blocks. There were plenty of women in London who wouldn’t want their younger sisters engaging in such a low sport.
Miss Duncan was nothing like any of them, though. She may be upset with him for not telling her, but if anything, she would be proud of her sister for learning something new. Miss Duncan was beautiful in ways the women of his previous acquaintance could never compare, and her ability to take on huge endeavors with a gleam in her eye for the challenge was one of them. She wouldn't deny her sister the same type of pleasure.
Miss Duncan must have knocked softly, for a murmur of voices near the front of the house announced that he had a guest in his home. He pulled on his lapels, making certain they were straight.
Miss Duncan was finally in his home.
And she had come here on her own.
If all went well during this meeting, he could be proposing within a week.
Despite waiting for it, Howard’s knock made him jump.
Jonathan pulled the door open and rushed past his valet, then turned around and skipped backwards. “She is in the parlor?”
“The front parlor, yes.”
Jonathan threw his eyes to the ceiling. Of the two of them, shouldn’t Jonathan be the more snobbish?
Despite practically running to the room, he stopped in his tracks when he reached it. Behind this door was the woman who had been occupying his thoughts ever since he met her in London. It was time to be his most charming self.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Miss Duncan was still standing. In her hand was a wooden crate twice as tall as it was wide and tied up with cording. He gave her a
slow and low bow. That was charming, wasn’t it? “Miss Duncan, it is a pleasure to have you in my home.”
A hint of a smile. “It is a pleasure to be here.”
She said nothing about what had brought her, nor what was in the box. She simply stood there, with that strange half-smile on her face.
And so he smiled back, because smiling without talking was charming as well, wasn’t it? Or was he making himself look like a fool? He blinked and returned his gaze to the box instead of her dark, mischievous eyes. He couldn’t help but feel they were hiding something, and whatever it was they were hiding, Miss Duncan found exciting. He swallowed. It wouldn’t do to get ahead of himself. “Would you like to set that down?”
Her half-smile blossomed and she stepped forward. “No, I would like to give it to you.” Jonathan leaned forward but he couldn’t make his feet move. Instead he waited for her to come to him.
And this time she did.
Her scent of roses and plaster engulfed him, her head turned up as she raised the box toward him. “I’m sorry it has taken me so long to return a neighborly gift. I wanted to find just the thing.”
Jonathan reached out and took the box from her, placing his hands just below hers. His index fingers grazed the smallest of her fingers, and even though she wore gloves, her eyes went to their hands and for a moment they both froze. The soft silk of her gloves begged him to lift that finger and slide his hand further up hers, but she stepped away before he had the chance to even decide if he was brave enough to do it.
He cleared his throat. There would be other times to hold her hand, and if the arrival of this gift meant anything, it was that those times were coming soon. “Should I open it now?”
She sucked her lips in, her head cocked slightly to one side. When she spoke, the edges of her mouth quirked up as if of their own accord. “Oh yes, please do.”
Jonathan walked over to a side table and set the parcel down to untie the strings. Miss Duncan stepped to his side, her floral scent once again surrounding him, seeming so out of place in a hunting lodge built for men. He yanked on one end of the knot, expecting it to fall free, but instead the whole thing tightened.
Blast. He was so distracted by the fact that Miss Duncan was only inches away from him, and watching his every move, that he was making a fool of himself.
He could untie a simple knot. He attacked it with both hands, digging in with his fingernails to try and loosen the deuced thing, but he had pulled too hard and the cord was not budging.
“Do you need help?” Miss Duncan’s voice was just over his shoulder and much too near his ear. He narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand and not the woman beside him.
“No, I am quite capable of untying a knot.” His fingers weren’t helping his cause. They were twice as large as they should be for the delicate, yet strong obstacle before him. He felt like a clumsy giant trying to embroider a handkerchief.
To make matters worse—or infinitely better but definitely muddling him even more—Miss Duncan leaned forward and her shoulder grazed his. “Because I could call for your servant, the one who opened the door. He seemed like a useful sort who could open a package for you.”
Jonathan spun. “I am perfectly capable of—” He stopped. Miss Duncan was only inches from his face. With only the smallest of movement he could reach for her elbows and pull her to him.
She leaned forward and his breath caught. That was an invitation, wasn’t it? To be so close and to lean in to him? He lifted his hand. He had thought he would need a few more weeks, but here she was now, standing in his lodge, mere inches away from him, and grinning in such a way he could see all the whites of her wide and open smile.
“You are perfectly capable of what?” she asked, the humor in her voice palpable. Who knew women could be this much fun?
The knot and the present were forgotten. He leaned forward and put her elbow in the palm of his hand. “I’m perfectly capable of a lot of things. Would you like me to show you?”
Miss Duncan raised an eyebrow at his hand. A small laugh escaped her mouth, or was it a sigh?
He lowered his eyelids and inhaled her scent once again. It must have been a sigh, for who would laugh in such a situation as this?
Just as he was about to lean down and claim Miss Duncan as his own in a way she surely would understand, suddenly she was gone. He opened his eyes to find her at the side table removing her gloves.
Was it wrong of him to try and kiss her when her gloves were still on? Had he breached some sort of etiquette?
But once she laid her gloves on the table she didn’t return to his arms; instead she went to the package and started pulling at the center knot.
Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair. It made sense to open her present before kissing her, he supposed. He could wait a few more minutes to see what she had brought him first.
But Miss Duncan wasn’t having much more success with the knot than he had. Her fingers were slender, not like his stout ones, but even she wasn’t able to make much progress.
That gormless knot would be the death of him.
He reached around her and tried to pull at it as well, but she brushed his hands away. He had thought the silk gloves were heady, but the feathery touch of her skin set him on fire.
She was heedless to the torment she was causing him, though, her mind solely focused on getting that knot open.
“I’ve never seen a woman more determined than you.”
A small chuckle, but her hands didn’t stop in their work. “Yes, well, I was very much looking forward to seeing you open your gift.”
“I don’t mean with the knot.” Her fingers stilled for a moment at that. “I mean in life.” Her hands came back to life, but he could sense her listening, as if she was leaning closer to him, even though they seemed to have the same distance between them. “You have grown a business, sold a business, bought a home far from your own in order to make it yours. Those fingers, though half the size of mine, have done much more in their lifetime than mine ever will. It is daunting; you are daunting.”
She gave a small cry and spun with a smile of triumph. “Got it!” With fingers at a frenzy she pulled away the cording that surrounded his present. “What was it you were saying? I missed that last part. Something about my fingers?”
Was she in earnest? “I called you daunting.”
“Daunting?” She handed him the box. “Well, I am better at untying knots than you, so I suppose I can see that.”
“No, I—”
“Would you please open your gift? I have most likely overstayed my welcome as it is.”
“Overstayed your—'' Why did he feel like he and Miss Duncan were having two separate conversations? Had he imagined everything up until this point? She did touch his chest during their very first meeting. Could it be that his nearness had no effect on her? He was the only one struggling to remain calm and collected when she was standing in his parlor mere inches away from him, smelling like something feminine and out of reach. “No, you haven’t. You are welcome here any time.”
Perhaps her present would provide a clue.
He lifted the lid and she leaned forward, her hands together at her mouth.
There was something...copper...inside.
And it appeared to have claws.
He set the box down on the table and reached in with both hands. What he pulled out was made of copper and stone and a lot of appendages. Too many appendages. What the blazes had she given him?
“Do you like it?”
Jonathan sputtered, trying to find the words. “I...do…I really do…” He turned the thing upside down, but that made it decidedly worse. “But what is it exactly?”
She clicked her tongue in disappointment, but he could sense something besides frustration in the sound. “A vase, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated, pushing it farther away from his body, as if that might help it to be less hideous.
A pouting frown Jonath
an wagered was a replica of a face Victoria would make overtook Miss Duncan’s face. “You don’t like it, do you?”
“No, I do. It is…” He struggled to find any word that could convince her he wasn’t horrified by this...work of art. “Unexpected.”
Miss Duncan’s pout fell away and she smiled. “I thought you would like it. It reminds me of you, so I knew you must have it.”
It reminded her of him? This thing he held by his fingertips? Which part, exactly?
Her eyes positively gleamed. “Where are you going to put it? I think the mantel would be an excellent choice. I know it is only you here, but that doesn’t mean you can’t decorate the place and make it more cheerful.”
Jonathan eyed the thick wood mantel atop the oversized fireplace. In Miss Duncan’s defense, it was bare. But, in the mantel’s defense, the vase wasn’t going to make anything more cheerful. He plastered on a smile. Miss Duncan had brought him a gift, she had visited his home, and if she wanted her gift left somewhere prominent in his home, then he was not going to deny her.
He strode across the room and plopped the thing directly in the center of the mantel, then stepped back. He tipped his head to the side, squinted one eye, then pursed his lips together. Would Miss Duncan think it strange if he drew the curtains? Dim lighting might be precisely what the vase needed.
Miss Duncan sighed deeply behind him. “It makes me happy to see it there. It truly does.” He turned around and found her staring at the vase as if the last thing it needed was less lighting. Her mouth was curved into a smile, and her chin raised in pride. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
This had been his neighborhood long before it had become hers, but there was no avarice or mocking in her voice. In their previous interactions he had noticed some hesitancy in her manners, but now, he saw her as inclusive and devilishly hard not to want to spend the rest of the day with. It would be a break for him and Howard. They both had spent much too much time with one another, or, more often than not, alone.
