His arm around his daughter’s shoulders, Daniel looked at Charlotte over Anne’s little bowed head. “Amen,” he echoed, his gaze still holding hers.
After breakfast the next morning, Charlotte glanced at the mantel clock and saw it was nearly nine o’clock. Daniel sat at the head of the table still, nursing his third cup of coffee and rustling distractedly with the newspaper.
“May I be excused to go play, please?” Anne asked.
“Yes, you may,” Charlotte answered and watched her skip from the room. She finished her tea, then looked at Daniel again. “Are you not seeing patients today?”
“Not as yet. I am certain I should not be able to concentrate in any case.” He put down the paper. “I am still waiting for your answer.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “I—”
“Tell me you have not forgotten the question.” He attempted a smile.
“No,” she laughed weakly. “I have thought of little else since.”
“And?”
“And, I think—”
A loud knock sounded on the door.
Charlotte rose to her feet. “I will answer that.”
“There is no need for you—”
“Marie has the day off.”
He sighed and rose. “Very well. But weshalldiscuss this tonight.”
Charlotte went down and opened the door, expecting to find a messenger or delivery of some sort. She froze—except to quickly close her mouth, which had fallen open. Mr. Harris stood there, elegantly dressed as usual, but his eyes, which she remembered nearly always dancing with merry teasing, looked frightfully serious. He removed his hat and smiled at her, but his smile was brief and did not cheer his expression.
“Miss Lamb.”
“Mr. Harris.” She stood looking at him dumbly, and then the realization struck her that he wasn’t there to see her at all and she felt mortified at her own presumption. “You are here to see Dr. Taylor?”
He shook his head. “No, Charlotte, I am here to see you.”
She put her hand to her chest. “Is something wrong with Edmund?”
“No. He is fine—missing his mother, of course.”
Charlotte swallowed. “Of course.”
“Forgive me. I am handling this very ill.”
“Do come in.”
He followed her up the stairs to the sitting room. “Please, sit down.”
“Thank you.”
She sat in the chair opposite him. He crossed one leg over the other, then uncrossed his legs and spread his feet on the carpet before him, resting his elbows on his knees and playing with his hat. “I had every intention of merely paying a social call to begin. But ...”
Sitting back, he ran his hand through his hair. “But, seeing you now, I cannot pretend to a casual call.”
“Mr. Harris, you are frightening me. Are you certain Edmund is all right?”
“Well, fine in health and spirits. But it’s no good. He needs ... he needs a woman’s influence.”
