“Good afternoon, Miss Ames.”
Harry closed his eyes, imagining the way Daisy would look, framed by his front door, snow flurries and the gray sky her background.
“Hello, Jamison. How are you today?” Her voice, clear and comforting, flew through the house to him.
“I am well, thank you. What may I do for you, miss?”
“Is Mr. Devon home?” Did she sound hopeful? Of course she did. She had some wish to see him. But calling upon him in such a way invited scandal.
His eyes snapped open. What is she doing here?
“I am afraid he is not at home, miss. Would you like me to relate any message to him?”
“Oh. No. That is—could you let him know I called?” That sounded like real disappointment in her voice.
“Of course, Miss Ames. Good day.”
She took her leave, and the door’s latch clicked shut again. Harry’s stomach tightened and his heart sank low against it.
I am the very worst sort of coward. He leaned against the wall, glaring up at the chandelier hanging over the entry hall. How could he turn her away? What more could she say to hurt him, after all? Hiding from Daisy Ames was impractical, foolish.
Harry groaned aloud, then raced down the stairs once more. The footman was there again, staring. The man might as well be useful.
“Fetch my overcoat,” Harry barked.
The footman jumped to obey, going to a closet near the door and pulling forth a heavy gray wool coat. Harry did not wait for help putting it on, but snatched it from the man’s hands before ripping the door open and charging through it. He pulled his arms through the sleeves, did not bother doing up the buttons, and ran down the lane.
“Miss Ames!” he shouted at her retreating figure.
She stopped, then turned deliberately around. Seeing her for the first time in more than a fortnight, Harry stopped his mad dash to catch up to her. Simply staring, he drank in the sight of her. Lovely as ever, her gray eyes were heavy and sad, her fair features framed by honey-colored curls.
“Mr. Devon,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
His feet started moving again, but slowly. “Miss Ames.” Had he already said her name? Yes, he had, to call to her. To make her stop walking away.
“H-how are you?” she asked.
Harry stopped, several feet away from her still. “I am well. And you?”
Daisy took a step closer. “I have been miserable, actually.”
That made him blink, and he tilted his head to one side. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“I would think you would wish the very worst upon me.” Her breath misted as she spoke, reminding him of the cold.
“Never, Miss Ames,” he said, forcing a smile. “I would never wish any ill upon you.” A large snowflake landing on one of his ears made him look up. He’d forgotten his hat.
“You are very kind.” She stepped closer, now nearly within arms’ length of him. “I have come to return your handkerchief.” She pulled one hand from her muff, holding a square of linen.
Harry stared at the fabric, slightly baffled. “You still have it.”
“You have never collected it. And I have tried any number of times to give it back.” She did not hold it out, but looked down at it, as though studying the embroidery upon the edges. “It has adorned my dressing table for a long time now. I have seen it every day. It will be strange to have it gone.”
Perhaps he ought to tell her to keep it. But no. A lady did not keep a gentleman’s handkerchief. It was too personal an object, too intimate a thing to do. Yet Harry could not bring himself to reach for it.
“Is that all?” he asked, studying her bent head. “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Ames?”
Daisy lifted her eyes to his, her soft pink lips pressed tightly together. For a moment she only stared at him, the snow falling around and between them.
“Would you give me your forgiveness?” she asked at last, her voice a whisper in the cold and her breath coming out in a puff of mist. “Though I know I do not deserve it. I failed you, Harry, as a friend. I have regretted my weakness and the pain I caused you every day since.” She swallowed, maintaining eye contact. “I am deeply sorry for it.”
A tiny piece of Harry’s broken heart clicked back into place. “Then I forgive you freely, Miss Ames.” He forced a smile, the moment laced in regret. “I have been informed that I was too quick to be offended. Misunderstandings are a common thing in life, even between friends.”
“You are too kind.” Daisy dropped her eyes to the handkerchief again, and he saw she ran her thumb over his embroidered initials as she held it. “Perhaps I am taking liberties, Mr. Devon. But I would ask one more thing, since you granted forgiveness.”
“What would that be?”
§
Everything depended upon her next question, and Daisy had never been so frightened in her life. Despite the hopefulness she felt at his sudden appearance, he had every right to hold her in contempt. She had come this far. She must be brave.
“Might we be friends once more?” she asked, her voice quiet despite the boldness of the request.
Softness stole over Harry’s expression, and a new emotion appeared in his eyes with it.
Delicate snowflakes landed upon her cloak, and his cheeks, melting nearly as soon as they landed. It swirled around them, hitting the ground between them. Daisy felt one large flake when it hit her cheek, melting at once, like a cold tear against her blush.
Without a word, Harry raised his ungloved hand to brush it away, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. The whole world went still, and Daisy stared up at him, a prayer in her heart. His hand stayed, cupping her cheek.
“Friends?” he asked, stepping closer, bending his head toward her. “Is that what you want, Daisy?”
She swallowed and her eyes flickered to his lips, then up again. He stood so close, she felt the warmth of his breath against her lips. “Yes. But I want more than that, too. I want you, Harry.” She had never been so bold in her life, and there was only one thing more she could do.
Her lips found his, and the pieces of Daisy’s heart came back together as he returned the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Daisy savored the feel of being safely cradled in his arms. Her hands rested upon his chest, still clasping his handkerchief tightly.
When their lips parted, Harry rested his forehead against hers. “I am never taking that handkerchief back, you must realize that by now.”
Daisy’s cheeks warmed. “I never really intended to give it to you.”
Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I did not know that a vicar’s daughter would turn to thievery. What would the neighborhood gossips say about you now, Miss Ames?”
She lifted her chin, unsmiling, and stated most firmly. “I do not care at all, Harry Devon, and you had better stop teasing me or I will call you Horace from now on.”
He laughed and scooped her up in an embrace, twirling her in the snow while she squealed. When he sat her upon her feet again, Harry dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Come, let me take you home in a gig. And while I’m there, I had better speak to your father. I have every intention of marrying you, Augusta Ames, and I will need his permission to do so.”
She tucked his handkerchief into her muff, then threaded her gloved fingers through his. “Harry—what about my school?” Although she thought—she hoped—she knew his answer.
“I am afraid you will have to change its name.” He spoke with all seriousness. “Mrs. Devon’s School for Girls sounds much better than Miss Ames’s School for Girls, does it not?”
She squeezed his hand tightly, joy filling her heart. “It does sound rather perfect.” And she trusted it would be exactly that.
Chapter Twenty-four
Dressed in a cream-colored gown, Daisy stared out the window, waiting for the carriage to arrive. Her father sat behind her, a book open before him. “It does not matter if we are late to the earl’s ball, Augusta.”
She bit back a smile, remembering the last time he had said similar words to her. “I know that, Father.” Tonight, instead of the Gooches, Harry would come for them. And tonight, at the Earl of Annesbury’s Christmas Eve ball, she would dance with Harry, and be introduced to all three of his brothers-in-law. Harry had told her, just after he asked for permission to court her, that his whole family would come to spend Christmas and New Year’s at Whitewood. It was the first time they would all be together under that roof since Christine’s marriage.
The whole idea of seeing Harry’s sisters made her stomach twist in a strange manner, but Harry reassured her all would be well. And how could it not? She would be with him. He’d even invited her and her father to Christmas dinner.
The carriage arrived, its lamps glowing against the snow-covered ground, and Daisy nearly ran for the door. “He is here, Father!”
She threw open the door before a servant could appear, and hurried down the steps. Harry jumped down from the carriage, holding his hand out to her. His eyes took her in, from the ribbons in her hair to her slippers. He raised one of her gloved hands to his lips.
“Daisy, you are most beautiful tonight.” Something about his voice made her breath catch in her throat.
“Thank you, Harry.”
Her father appeared, leaning on his cane to avoid slipping. Harry released her in order to help the vicar, who grumbled about people giving balls in the dead of winter. Harry made certain her father was seated comfortable, then handed Daisy into the carriage, before climbing in to sit across from her. His grin flashed in the darkness.
“Are you ready, Miss Ames?” he asked.
“I should hope so, Mr. Devon.”
“Have you a handkerchief?” he asked.
Daisy laughed, feeling her blush appear. “Always, sir.”
Her father sighed, deeply. “I do not understand young people anymore.”
She covered her lips to keep from giggling. It seemed whenever she was around Harry, she could not help but laugh. He had a gift for bringing forth joy in even the little things. He had helped her, just the day before, arrange for a table and chairs to be brought into the upstairs rooms at Mrs. Chandler’s. He had helped hang up a map of Great Britain, and a blackboard. He’d stacked books for her in shelves. And all the while, working near her, he’d made her laugh.
Their courtship had been the talk of the village, perhaps the county, for three weeks. Everyone knew about it, and as often as Daisy could be seen on Harry’s arm, she was. They shared a hymnal in church while he sat beside her. He escorted her father and Daisy home after services. He drove her through town in his open carriage, despite the snow, always at a moderate pace, and they stopped to speak to everyone they passed.
People had even begun to make sly remarks to Daisy about her prospects of becoming his bride. But apart from mentioning the name change for her school, Harry had not said another word of marriage.
Sitting across from him in the dark, Daisy tried to curb her impatience. Their courtship was, after all, quite wonderful. And she was assured, in every possible way, that he loved her. When it was the right time, he would ask her if they might have the banns read. She knew exactly what her answer would be, too.
The carriage stopped before Annesbury Park, which was lit with thousands of glittering lamps and candles in windows. Daisy waited for Harry to hand her down from the carriage, then slipped her hand onto his arm as anticipation built within her.
They were swept into the grand house with other guests before and behind them, the orchestra already playing. She looked up into Harry’s eyes.
“This is going to be a wonderful evening,” she said.
Harry’s grin appeared somewhat crookedly. “I hope so.”
§
With Daisy on his arm, Harry entered the ballroom, immediately searching out his sisters. They were all here, at his request, with their husbands. It did not take long to spot their group in the crowd. His sisters, all mothers and seasoned wives, were beautiful. And two of the three husbands were quite tall.
He led Daisy to his family’s corner of the room, hardly stopping to greet anyone else. His heart pounded in his chest, with anxiety and pride both, as he introduced her. “Miss Ames, might I introduce my family to you? Some of them you know, of course. This is the Earl of Ivyford, Lord Christian Hundley, and his countess.”
Christian bowed and Rebecca offered a grinning curtsy, despite her large middle.
“And Doctor Nathaniel Hastings, husband to my sister, Mrs. Julia Hastings.”
Nathaniel offered his bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Ames.”
“And you know Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Gilbert, of course,” Harry added.
“Quite well.” Daisy curtsied prettily to the entire group, not betraying any of the nervousness Harry knew she must feel. “I am delighted to meet everyone.”
The music was playing, and Harry was about to ask Daisy for her first dance of the evening when Christian stepped forward.
“Miss Ames, would you do me the honor of standing up with me?” he asked, his expression all seriousness.
Daisy blinked, as though startled, but agreed. “Of course, my lord.” Before Harry could utter a word of protest, Nathaniel stepped forward.
“Might I have the next, Miss Ames?” he asked, his eyes darting from hers to Harry’s, a glitter of mischief present.
Oh, no. Harry opened his mouth, but Thomas spoke next.
“And then I must have the honor of the next dance,” he said, not even bothering to hide his grin.
Harry stood at his full height, pulling Daisy a little closer. “Now see here, what sort of brothers—”
“Are we all claiming Miss Ames’s dances?” a new voice asked. Harry turned to see Lucas Calvert, the earl and a cousin to the family by marriage, standing over his shoulder and grinning. “How far have we made it?”
“If you wish it, you may be my fourth dance this evening, my lord,” Daisy said, her dimple appearing. “I confess, I have never been so popular at a ball before.”
“An absolute shame.” Lucas tsked. “And yes. I will happily take the fourth dance, Miss Ames.”
Daisy gave Harry’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I will see you in an hour or so, Mr. Devon.” She released him and took Christian’s arm, while Harry watched incredulously.
Nathaniel and Thomas stepped forward, standing on either side of Harry. He looked from one to the other, deeply suspicious.
“Are you all trying to ruin my evening?” he asked. “You know very well what I have planned.”
“They have to have their fun,” Christine said from behind him.
“And it isn’t our fault,” Nathaniel added, “that you neglected to secure the first set with her.”
Lucas grinned. “You best be quick about it, Harry. You still haven’t asked her to dance. My brother Marcus is across the room. I think I’ll see if he is interested in being the fifth—”
“You wouldn’t,” Harry said, almost panicked. At this rate, she would dance with everyone but him. “Lucas, I’m proposing this evening.”
Julia gasped and pushed between her husband and Harry. “Really, Harry? Oh, that is wonderful!” Then she gave her husband a narrow-eyed look. “And you knew this when you asked Miss Ames to dance? I thought you were only teasing Harry.”
“Of course I am teasing him,” Nathaniel said, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “And we have a plan, my dear.”
“Really?” Harry threw up his hands. “And what is it, exactly? Keep her too busy for me to get a dance, much less a word, with her?”
“Not at all. We are making certain you have the waltz,” Thomas said, slapping Harry on the shoulder. “And the right moment.”
Harry looked from one brother-in-law to the other, then at Lucas who nodded. He was surrounded by irritating, well-intentioned relatives. Perhaps having everyone come for Christmas had not been the best idea.
His eyes sought out Daisy’s form on the dance floor, and h
e watched as Christian expertly led her through the steps.
“Oh, stop staring and ask me to dance, Harry.” Julia put her arm through his, and Harry sighed. It seemed he had little choice but to put aside his plan and let his family take over, at least for the time being.
“Harry,” Julia said when their dance had finished. “I want to tell you how proud I am of you.”
That brought his attention away from Daisy changing from Christian to Nathaniel’s arm. “You are?”
“All of us are,” she said, her smile as serene as ever. “It is obvious you have found a place of real purpose, and you are building a strong foundation for your future. And your future family.” She stood on her toes, placing a kiss on his cheek, then she stepped away and Christine took her place.
It seemed he was to dance with his sisters while their husbands danced with the woman he loved. Harry chuckled and escorted Christine to the floor.
§
Although being asked to dance by the rather intimidating Earl of Ivyford surprised Daisy, she found him to be a pleasant partner. He put her completely at ease, asking her questions about the girls she would begin teaching in a fortnight.
“I greatly respect what you are doing, Miss Ames. Harry has told me of your plans. I think he told everyone in London of what you are attempting to do. You ought to know,” he added while they stood and waited for their turn to move down the line again, “there are many who have taken notice of his interest in education, too.”
“Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”
His lordship’s lips moved upward. “I should not be surprised if he is asked to join the ranks of the politicians in a few short years. Our nation is increasingly aware of the need for better education for the poor.”
Daisy tilted her head to the side, studying the earl with interest. “Are you attempting to impress me with Mr. Devon’s prospects?”
Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6) Page 20
