“If our party is to be split,” she said, “I think Beatrice and Charlotte should go with His Grace to tell him all they know of the Colchester gate.”
Then she sent Henry a long and knowing look. He returned it with a smile as if he were entirely unbothered. He would use the time alone with the younger Rare-Foures to find out more about Amity. Any information might come in handy as he sought to wrest her away from Mr. Cole, who plainly was not good enough for her.
As soon as they were settled in his coach, he began to ply the sisters with questions although not about the Roman ruins.
“How long have your sister and Mr. Cole been keeping company?”
“About a year and a half,” Miss Charlotte volunteered while Miss Beatrice regarded him thoughtfully.
“And yet they only recently became engaged. What am I to make of that?”
At this, Miss Beatrice smiled slightly. “Why are you making anything of it at all, Your Grace?”
The middle sister was a tad saucy, no doubt about it. He shrugged. “Idle curiosity. In my experience, people meet, they realize they have affection for one another, and in short succession, they declare an engagement. Otherwise, either party is liable to find him or herself cut out. Either the man finds a woman more eager to be his life partner, or the woman is pursued by a worthier — and quicker — suitor.”
“I suppose our sister was fortunate,” Miss Beatrice said, “to have ended up with a man moving at exactly the same speed as she.”
Or unfortunate, Henry thought. Then to his amazement, she looked him in the eye and said the exact same thing.
“Or unfortunate — if the first suitor was a tepid attachment and their engagement occurred precisely when a more fitting suitor came along.”
“What are you on about?” Miss Charlotte asked her sister. “Your Grace, would you like to hear anything more about Colchester?”
“I think I would rather be surprised when we arrive. Tell me, does your sister long for anything in life besides making chocolates?”
Miss Charlotte stared at him, perhaps coming to realize how interested he was in Amity. Still, it was Miss Beatrice who answered.
“Our older sister is funny and smart and lovely and more talented than you could imagine. But in one regard, she is no different than any woman. She wants to be loved for who she is. She doesn’t want to have to change or put on airs or affectations.”
Henry thought about this.Would she have to change for him?She might, more so than if she married Mr. Cole. On the other hand, he already loved her for who she was. That should count for something.
“I think our sister would like a puppy,” Miss Charlotte added. “If you really want to know.”
He and Miss Beatrice looked at the guileless youngest Rare-Foure sister, and he started to laugh.A gift of a puppy?That, he could easily do without upending anyone’s apple cart.
“Are you sure it’s not you who wants one?” he asked gently.
Miss Charlotte smiled sweetly. “Oh no, Your Grace. I would prefer a cat.”
Miss Beatrice sighed and looked out the window.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Miss Charlotte asked, “Are you fond of painting?”
Henry thought it an odd question. “I do not paint, but I enjoy art.”
“I only ask because Constable, a painter I greatly admire, did a lot of his landscapes not too far north of here.”
“Ah, yes, they call itConstable Country, do they not?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. Willy Lott’s cottage is there from Constable’s famedHay Wain. Perhaps tomorrow, if we set out earlier, we could take a day trip to see it.”
“Charlotte,” her sister warned softly. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, nor if His Grace will be staying another night.”
“True,” he confirmed. “Yet it sounds like a good outing, so we shall see.”
Not looking the least bit put off, Miss Charlotte suddenly exclaimed, “We’re here! And we have plenty of time to look around and work up an appetite.”
Soon, both carriages were parked with the coachmen seeing to the horses, and Henry found himself one of a joyful group as long as he ignored Mr. Cole, who stuck so closely to Amity, it was a wonder he wasn’t made of tar.
