Caroline wrapped her wool scarf snugly around her head and exited the milliner's shop, nearly colliding with someone on the boardwalk. Mr. Duffy.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed, reaching out to steady her but stopping short, as if he feared the contact might offend. “I do apologize!”
“No need,” Caroline replied, adjusting her scarf. “It was entirely my fault.”
“I would disagree, except a gentleman never argues with a lady.” He dropped his ambivalent hands to his sides. “We seem destined to cross paths lately.”
“Perhaps we should wear bells,” Caroline said, casting him a modest grin.
“Ha! Perhaps.” He moved over to let someone pass, nodding politely to them, then gestured to the door she’d just exited. “Do you know if the shop employs a tailor?”
“It does, and a seamstress, too. I just ordered a Christmas dress, in fact.”
“It will be lovely, I’m sure.” He worried the seams of his overcoat with his fingers and cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, I hope I'm not being too forward, but... might I call on you sometime? Perhaps this Sunday after church?”
Caroline hesitated, her first instinct to decline as Jackson’s face flashed through her mind. But he was lost to her. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
A kind, relieved smile spread across Walsh’s face. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I look forward to it.”
Chapter 5
Caroline watched Mr. Duffy’s approach from her upstairs bedroom window. The current loose-fitting style of men’s fashion hung like windless sails from his thin frame, but his height granted him an advantage. Even at a timorous pace, his long strides carried him up the path from the road in moments. He paused at the base of the porch steps, adjusting his tie and smoothing his coat.
Caroline turned away from the window when he disappeared under the awning and listened to her father’s deep voice echoing in the foyer, welcoming Walsh with a friendly tone. Pausing for one last check of her appearance, she stepped out onto the upper landing and descended the stairs.
“Miss Bennet,” Walsh said when she entered the parlor. “Thank you for allowing me to call on you.”
“Of course, Mr. Duffy,” she replied with a smile borne of courtesy rather than delight. “Chatting with you will make for a pleasant afternoon.”
A look of disappointment flitted across his face—her indifference clearly hadn’t been lost on him—but it faded to acceptance instead of sparking anger.
She gestured to indicate her eldest and youngest brothers, engaged in a fervent game of chess. “These are my brothers, Simon and Knox.”
The youths raised their heads long enough to smile and utter greetings that were promptly returned.
“There’s a third named Landon,” Caroline went on, “but he spends most of his time at the stables.”
“A worthy pastime,” Walsh remarked.
Caroline’s mother carried a tea tray into the room and set it on the low table, next to a tiered stand full of miniature sandwiches and cakes. “Welcome to our home, Mr. Duffy,” she greeted with a bright smile.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. I hope my visit hasn’t put you to too much trouble.”
“Not at all. I thought you and Caroline might enjoy some refreshments.”
“I’d be pleased to have you join us.”
“I’m tempted, but I’m afraid I must decline. I have some pressing correspondence to which I must attend.”
Caroline bit her tongue and schooled her face. The correspondence in question was notthatpressing. Nudging her to socialize was one thing. Outright matchmaking was entirely another.
“The same is true for me,” her father interjected.
Et tu, pater?
“Once again, good to meet you, Duffy,” he went on, shaking Walsh’s hand. “Give my regards to your aunt.”
“I will.”
