“Here, here,” echoed Rosanna.
“—and there is far more to attraction than outward beauty.”
Though Mr. Archer’s words were meant to comfort, Katherine’s heart sank further, seeping into the ground at her feet until there was nothing left.
Despite the inference that Katherine possessed attractions, Mr. Archer’s words were clear enough: he didn’t believe her to be beautiful. Such a sentiment was not new to Katherine; even if she were able to forget the many gentlemen who’d rejected her, her mother and father were keen to remind her daily.
With or without spectacles marring the image, her features were too sharp to be arresting, which was the best description she could hope for. Her coloring was unremarkable. Her height was just a touch too tall, but that would’ve been forgivable had she a figure worth looking at. Katherine Leigh was the epitome of plain. Not ugly, but ordinary, unremarkable, and easily overlooked.
Having heard as much from her family for the majority of her life, Katherine had learned to ignore it. She possessed no outward beauty, but that did not mean she was without value or merit. One could not help one’s appearance, after all, and it did no good to fixate on what one could not change. But hearing Mr. Archer agree with her mother’s assessment pained Katherine, opening old wounds.
Ridiculous. What did she expect? Her hope for the future was that Mr. Archer would come to his senses and realize they were well-suited for one another—despite her lack of outward enticements. So, how could she then be hurt when he stated a simple fact?
Glancing at the others, Katherine inched backward. They continued discussing the subject, and though she had been the catalyst, no one paid her any heed. So, she saw no reason to remain.
*
“Excuse me,” said Miss Leigh, not looking at anyone as she stepped apart from their ground. Despite that small sign of pain, she held herself erect, and if one were to overlook her gaze, one might believe her to be entirely unaffected by her mother’s criticisms.
David Archer longed to curse at Mrs. Leigh, which was an entirely new sensation to him, as it went against everything he’d been taught. Foul language on its own was a wretched thing, but directing it at a lady was unthinkable. Yet David couldn’t help but feel that anger burn in his chest as he watched Miss Leigh walk away with little haste but solid determination.
If not for the fact that Mrs. Leigh immediately latched onto his arm, David would’ve followed after, but the lady’s grip was firm, and unless he wished to drag her along, he was stuck.
“I do not understand that girl,” murmured Mrs. Leigh with a heavy sigh. “I try my best to guide her, but she is never happy. Such a dour, unhappy creature.”
“On the contrary, she’s exceptionally amusing,” replied David.
Benjamin gave a wry chuckle. “That is kind of you to say, Archer.”
“It isn’t kindness. It is truth.”
Yet the raise of her brother’s brows said he was unconvinced.
“I have all but given up helping her,” added Miss Leigh’s sister with a shake of her head. “All my efforts are for naught as they are met with a harsh retort before she scurries away.”
And was it any wonder if her family’s idea of assistance was harping at her? But David knew better than to say anything of that nature. The Leighs were an odd puzzle, and for all that he spent much time in their ranks, David was no closer to deciphering them.
“Do you know a gentleman who might suit her?” asked Mrs. Leigh, turning her gaze up to David. “Someone who can overlook her pittance of a dowry, plain features, and blunt-speaking?”
Thank the heavens for his fancy dress, for they couldn’t see the way his brows climbed upwards at that question. He might be a close friend to two of her children and a regular fixture amongst the family, but that did not make him privy to such a private discussion.
“My husband cannot be bothered to bestir himself,” said Mrs. Leigh with a frown. “And despite Rosanna’s many invitations, Katherine refuses to join them when they are in London.” Patting her daughter on the hand, she added, “I do not blame you, of course. You have tried your best with the girl, and she refuses to listen.”
Then the sharpness in Mrs. Leigh’s tone and gaze softened as she turned to her son. “And our dear Benjamin is too young to be of much assistance. Most of his acquaintances are closer to his age—none of whom would be interested in a lady twelve years their senior. But with all the time you spend assisting your father at the mill, you must be acquainted with men of varying ages. Surely you know older gentlemen who are in want of a wife.”
David’s smile didn’t falter even the slightest: he had too much practice to let even a casual remark discompose him. Rawlston Mill was owned and overseen by Mr. Thaddeous Archer. His son and heir merely aided him. That was all.
Instead, David focused on the second half of her statement. “I am well-acquainted with many gentlemen and mill owners, but I fear Mr. Ambrose Ashbrook is the youngest amongst that set, and he—like most of the others—is married. The rest are closer to my father’s age.”
But Mrs. Leigh simply watched him as though not comprehending a single word he’d spoken. “I am certain there must be a widower amongst their ranks. Or some confirmed bachelor finally ready to settle down.”
David couldn’t imagine wishing to marry off one of his sisters to a gentleman who was in his sixth or seventh decade of life and had only just decided to marry. Such a fellow would be either a bounder looking to secure an heir or a tyrant who didn’t wish for the annoyance of a wife. Neither of which was likely to ensure matrimonial bliss.
Yet Mrs. Leigh stood there with her gaze fixed on him, waiting for him to answer.
Thankfully, Benjamin saved David by announcing, “Miss Rothschild is expecting me.”
“That girl?” Letting out a sharp tsk, Mrs. Leigh frowned. “Her parents own a mill.”
