Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6)

by Sally Britton

  Daisy tried to put Mr. Haskett’s unwelcome request from her mind and walked faster toward the old tree.

  Toward Harry.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harry waited beneath the tree, staring up into its bare branches. Weeks had passed since he saved the ungrateful cat, yet he could recall that day with perfect clarity. Meeting Daisy again, seeing her for the first time as a woman instead of the girl always following her elder sisters about, had become a memory he relived again and again. Somehow, most of their meetings seemed to have ended in misadventure, whether it was affront, a fall from a tree, or rain. Would they ever have one pleasant interaction not immediately followed by a minor catastrophe?

  He leaned against the tree, the bark rough against his overcoat. The weather had teased at autumn that day, now here he stood in thick gloves and scarf hoping winter would wait a while longer to make its appearance. Not for his own sake, but to ensure his tenants were well prepared. His eyes swept from the bushes concealing the road to the hill concealing the vicar’s house. He couldn’t be certain from which direction Daisy would come. He had arrived early, intent upon seeing her again. Being near her, though it often reminded him of all his failings and faults, also inspired him. Daisy expected more of him than anyone had before, pointing out his duties and stating what must be done. She had such a straightforward way of speaking, though she had never been unkind.

  A bonnet with a wide blue ribbon above its brim appeared at the corner of his eye. Harry turned, took two steps forward in his excitement, then waited as Daisy drew near. She had come from the opposite direction of the vicarage, not quite where he had been looking. She wore a Spencer to match the ribbon, both

  a jewel-toned blue. Wisps of hair that may have once been curls brushed against her cheeks, rosy from the cold wind. As she neared, he saw her eyebrows were pulled together and her lips formed a straight line.

  The excitement building in his breast stuttered, wavering like a candle left near a window.

  Had he done something wrong? Could she be upset with him? But she had proposed this meeting, hadn’t she? His mind flew through the possible causes of her less than cheerful expression, each one more unlikely than the last.

  Then she raised her eyes from the grassy path she followed and met his stare. Everything in her expression changed, just as sunlight bursting through clouds transformed a dreary landscape into a gleaming vista full of adventure and possibility. She hastened her step and put a hand to her bonnet while the other lifted her skirts.

  “Am I late?” she called out as she ran.

  Harry wouldn’t have minded waiting hours more for her appearance, had he known it would make him feel as giddy as it did. His heart tripped along inside his chest like it was stumbling down a hill, falling ever faster in love with her.

  Love? He had never felt romantic love for anyone before.

  “You’re not—” Harry stopped and cleared his throat, his voice having come out slightly hoarse. “You are not late. I came early. No gentleman ought to ever keep a lady waiting.”

  “How very mannerly of you.” Her steps slowed, her eyes took him in. “I have your handkerchief, as promised.” She made no move to produce the article, but stopped walking when she stood a pace from him.

  “That is wonderful news, since that is the entire reason we are meeting.” He tried to tease, tried to keep his words light, but her gray eyes held him still and kept his words soft.

  Love. The word crept into every corner of his heart and continued to spread into the rest of his being. He’d always found her attractive, but he had found any number of young ladies pretty. This was different. Everything about being near Daisy made him long to be more, to be worthy of her friendship and esteem.

  Something of his thoughts must have leaked through to his expression. Daisy’s smile faded, she leaned toward him and put her hand on his arm. The sensations that simple touch caused, through layers of fabric, sent his tumbling heart careening down the side of a cliff.

  “Is something wrong, Harry? You look—well, I am not certain how you look. But it is somewhat unsettling to be stared at like that.”

  Say something. Something witty. Harry tried to grin, tried to laugh, but the sound he emitted—anxious and strangled—made her appear more concerned. “Forgive me,” he said at last. “It has been a trying day.” It hadn’t. Not until that moment, when all rational thought abandoned him, skipping gleefully away before he could grasp even a word that might save him.

  She pressed her lips together, turning to look out over the fields behind him. “I can certainly understand such a thing. I am afraid my day took a turn I was not entirely expecting.” She brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I do hope your day will get better, Harry.”

  It was marvelously better, yet torturous. Somehow, his faint interest in Daisy had grown into an admiration and respect, then a deep regard, and now—now he did not quite know what to do.

  “I hope yours will, too.” His head full of wool, nothing wittier came to mind than to return her sentiments. The conversation would not last long if all he did was echo her words back to her. “Would you care to walk?” he asked, gesturing to the tall bushes hiding the road from view. “It would be good to keep moving in this cold weather.”

  “That is a very good idea.” She folded her arms against her middle and took a step. Harry fell in with her, the two of them walking together at an easy pace. They went to the bushes and Harry reached out to pull the branches aside for her.

  “Let us stay on this side,” she said quickly. “I have no wish to encounter anyone on the road today.”

  “Ah, yes. Avoiding gossip.” He let the branch fall, and with it some of his enthusiasm. Would it really be so terrible for her name to be linked to his? If she thought so, his heart had little chance of finding happiness with hers.

  Then she erased his momentary disappointment. “Not at all. I am avoiding a certain person who may walk by on his way to the village.” She kept walking along the side of the bushes, at a slower pace than before.

  “I see.” He tried to think who it might be she hoped to avoid, but gave up on that line of thinking. If she evaded the man, whoever he was, that man posed no threat to Harry’s hopes. He kept to her slow pace, hands tucked behind his back though he longed to reach for her.

  The wind rustled by, stirring up the scent of wet leaves and cold earth. There would not be many more times when he might meet Daisy out of doors, whether accidentally or contrived. It grew too cold, and people throughout the country huddled closer to their fires rather than take a step outside.

  “How is your estate business? Have you and Mr. Ellsworth made a great deal of progress?” Daisy kept her eyes on the path in front of them.

  “I feel I learn one thing only to discover my ignorance in several other directions,” Harry admitted, watching her from the corner of his eye. “But I am determined to get the management of my property correct.”

  He must do so, for Daisy would never approve of him otherwise. Kind-hearted, intelligent, forward-thinking Daisy Ames deserved nothing less than his best efforts.

  “That is wonderful to hear. I am glad you will stay in the neighborhood for a time.”

  “Perhaps forever.” He spoke softly, not even certain she heard him. But he meant the words. If he wished to be linked to Daisy, her dedication to the school must be considered. If she wanted to teach and see to the education of the local girls, he could not take her away from that.

  Daisy’s expression turned inward, her eyes dimming as she lost herself in thought. Harry did not mind studying her from the corner of his eye, watching the play of emotions on her lovely face. What must she be thinking? Had she any idea of how he felt? Did she wrestle with her own emotions as he did?

  It would be arrogant to presume so, yet he hoped she did.

  “I need to visit London,” he said, ending the comfortable silence between them. “I will be away for a week.”

  “Oh?” She kept her eyes ahe
ad, but he quite easily saw her frown. “Only a week?”

  “Yes. I do not wish to be gone from here any longer.” He did not speak his true sentiments. He did not wish to be gone from her any longer. Their meetings were few enough as it was.

  “I hope everything goes well.” She stopped walking and looked up at him, her gray eyes a reflection of the sky above them. “I will miss you.”

  He stared at her, thoughtfully, taking in the pink of her cheeks, the slight part of her lips, the confusion in her eyes. Had she not meant to make such an admission?

  “You will?” he asked, somewhat surprised by the bold statement. But he did not try to keep from saying what he felt. “I will miss you. I fear if I am gone you will put me from your mind completely.”

  Her blush deepened and turned her face away. “One does not forget one’s friends.”

  “Ah. Friends.” Her words did not mean what he hoped. His plans to ask her if he might court her, might try to build something beyond friendship with her, drifted back to the forefront of his mind. Realizing he already felt more than friendship made the question of courtship more important. More fraught with danger to his heart.

  Their steps, hers lighter and his heavier, crunched a few leaves and twigs fallen from the bushes and trees.

  It might be wiser to wait until he returned to bring up the subject. Yet—he did not want to wait. Would it not be best to speak right away and face possible heartbreak than live in fear of her denial?

  “Daisy,” he said, hazarding a glance in her direction. Her expression was solemn, her profile reminding him of a Greek statue. “Before I leave, there is something I would ask you. That is—I have a thing I would like you to consider.” He let out an agitated puff of air. “Advice, if you will.”

  Daisy, an organized woman with a practical mind, would likely dismiss him if he asked her directly what she thought of a future at his side. A plan formed in his mind, hastily and untidily, but entirely possible.

  “Yes?” She blinked and the distance left her eyes, her attention returning to Harry. “You know I will always help you if I can.”

  “I have been considering other ways to help the people here, to solidify my future, and I have come to a conclusion that may sound somewhat drastic.” He made a show of frowning and kicked a stone out of their path. “I think I ought to marry.”

  Daisy’s step faltered, and he stopped a step after she did and peered down at her. She had a great deal of pink in her cheeks, put it faded quickly.

  “Marry? But—”

  “I need a partner in what lies ahead. Someone to talk things over with who has a real interest in what becomes of my ventures. And it would be beneficial to have a wife for all the social aspects of taking up my residence here.” Harry presented the points slowly, as though uncertain of them rather than the fact that he made them up on the spot. “As I said, I need advice. Perhaps you could help.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, then frowned and started to speak—only to halt before doing more than emitting a squeak.

  “You think it’s a terrible idea,” he said, trying not to grin. Her lack of answer might mean—at least he hoped it mean—she did not like the idea of anyone filling such a role in his life. It would necessarily replace her, after all. “I understand. I suppose I’m not the best candidate for a husband. Take away my fortune, and what am I?” He looked down as he scuffed his shoe along the grass, hiding his amusement. “Please, put the request from your mind. It is absurd.” He took a step away but stopped when her hand grasped his forearm.

  “I did not say that. You ought not to put words in a lady’s mouth.” She pursed her lips and he became very interested, for a short moment, in her mouth. “You merely took me by surprise. You have never even hinted at such a thought before. Do you—do you have a young lady in mind?” her voice rose on the last words and she cleared her throat hastily after speaking.

  Harry stared at her, hope prompting him to speak some of the truth. “There is one lady I have found myself thinking of a great deal, especially of late.”

  She removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. “Really? Might I ask her name? Do I know her?”

  “I would prefer not to tell. You see, I think she finds me a rather worthless sort. My holdings impress her very little. My wit, less so.” He stepped away from the hedge, into a small meadow where a cow grazed. The cow likely belonged to the vicar, as the house was within calling distance.

  Daisy followed close behind him. “That cannot be true. You are a good man, with a kind and generous heart.” She walked around him, stopped before him, and glared. “Any woman who captures your interest is fortunate. I will tell anyone who asks the very same.”

  She stood so close. It would be an easy thing to bend down and brush his lips against hers, to find out what she tasted like. Today she smelled of sunshine and meadows, of brisk winds and cool forests. The last time he had seen her, she had smelled like fresh bread and roses. She was everything good and beautiful, joy wrapped in the image of a woman. He did not deserve her heart.

  But he longed to give her his own.

  “You are kind to say such things,” he said, watching as her blonde eyelashes fluttered when she blinked. “What would you say to a woman to convince her I would suffice as a husband?”

  It was an underhanded way to trap her into considering him. He was asking for compliments and praise where he deserved none. But if she could see the good in him, the ways he tried to be a better man, perhaps she would see the possibilities for the two of them to be together.

  Daisy’s color rose again and she turned away enough that her bonnet hid her face. She spoke quickly, “I am sure I do not know.”

  “Then I am without hope.” He certainly had none if she could not think of one redeeming quality in him. “As my friend, and a very observant woman, I thought you might see what I cannot.”

  She took several steps away from him, the grass brushing against her hems, then turned to stare at him. What must she be thinking? Her eyebrows drawn together, her arms tightly folded across her waist. She appeared pained, and he nearly ended his ruse that instant. But she spoke first.

  “I think you know quite well why a woman would agree to your suit, Horace Devon. I cannot decide if it is vanity or modesty that prevents you from saying so yourself. You are intelligent and kind. You are thoughtful of others and you are humble enough to correct your behavior when you are in the wrong. The people in your life are important to you. And you—you always make me want to laugh at my own foolishness and yours.” She stopped, biting her bottom lip.

  Harry watched as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open into an O. It was like watching a wave approach the shore, waiting for it to break, and he saw the moment Daisy came to her revelation. She spun around in almost the same instant, presenting him with her back.

  §

  What is wrong with me? I should be able to help Harry without falling to pieces like this. Daisy took several deep breaths, keeping her back to him, even while her heart attempted to break free of her chest with its pounding. Her throat closed up over the truth she dared not speak. I do not want him to go off and find a wife. I want him to spend more time with me.

  But why?

  She shivered when another breeze tugged at her bonnet, her spencer keeping none of the chill away.

  A physical weight settled upon her, startling her from her thoughts. Harry’s greatcoat closed before her, the sleeves flapping in the breeze while his hands held the thick fabric to her shoulders. She turned, reflexively reaching out to grasp the front of the greatcoat. Harry’s hands fell to his sides and he offered a sheepish sort of smile.

  “I would not wish you to catch cold,” he said, his morning coat the only protection against the chilly afternoon. The heat he’d left in his wool overcoat warmed her. The fabric smelled like him, too. Like leather and sandalwood, and ginger and cinnamon.

  Daisy took hold of his arm before he moved out of reach. “Thank you.” />
  He stilled and his smile disappeared. He bowed. “Anything for you, Daisy.”

  Did he mean it? Anything?

  She studied his lips, pressed in an earnest line. Then his blue eyes. Eyes that were bright and soft at the same time. Daisy still held his sleeve, she realized, but this thought did not make her let it go. Instead, she stepped closer to him.

  “You are always kind,” she said slowly.

  He lowered his head slightly, perhaps in agreement. “You said that already. Is there nothing else to recommend me, Miss Ames?”

  They stood so close, and she was as wrapped up in his gaze as she was in his greatcoat. All of this to return a handkerchief.

  The square linen in her reticule had been nothing more than an excuse—a reason to be near him again without telling him how much she wanted to see him. Daisy no longer denied her attraction to Harry, but could it ever be more? What of her dreams, her plans, for the school?

  Harry knew how important it was to her. Would he ask her to give it up? She wouldn’t know unless she asked.

  She wet her lips before speaking and saw his eyes dart down to watch the action. The world around them, already turning gray, darkened and blurred. Daisy stepped closer to him, determined to ask what he thought about her school, if he might consider her as a prospective bride.

  “Harry—” She stopped, surprised at the low, soft quality of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound like that at all.

  He leaned in, locking her to him with his stare. “Yes, Daisy?”

  Bother. She forgot what it was she wanted to say, because all she could think about, all her attention, settled on one thought. I wish he would kiss me.

  And then he did.

  His lips brushed across hers before she became fully aware of him moving. Or had she moved? It hardly mattered which of them had closed the gap. She stood on her toes—his lips were gentle, pressed to her own, and his hands were at her waist. He pulled away first, enough to rest his forehead against hers. She lowered herself back to her heels.