Harris adjusted his waistcoat, because Miss Winthrop’s genuflect had just granted him direct view of the lady’s cleavage. He quietly cursed her beauty. Again.
“Harris.” Winthrop sounded put out. “To what do we owe this visit, sir?”
“Why, your daughter, milord. Since making her acquaintance at the Baron’s wedding, I’ve been able to think of nothing and no one else. I intend to court her.”
“C-court her?” Winthrop stuttered. “But she is not—Annabelle is not even?—”
“Lord Winthrop, was that not Mr. Finch I just saw leave your house? Does he not court your daughter too?” It took everything in Harris’s being not to cuff this fool. “I realize Miss Winthrop has not been formally presented in society, but good sir, a lady so charming, accomplished, and tenacious of spirit”—he winked at Annabelle, making her blush—“renders a man quite powerless to resist. I beg an audience with your daughter this very day.”
Winthrop fell speechless, as expected, his face turning a mottled maroon, veins pulsing at his temples. “I … That is …”
“Perhaps you are overcome by such declaration of sentiment, but I do not jest, sir. I am utterly enamored of your daughter and aim to woo her until she accepts.”
“Accepts?”Winthrop’s face mottled a shade darker.
Harris pulled Annabelle from her seat and tucked her arm in his. “A walk about the neighborhood for some fresh air is just the thing, don’t you agree, Miss Winthrop?” He prayed she’d play along.
“Oh yes, Mr. Harris. Indeed, I should love a walk.” She’d regained her composure quickly. “We won’t be long, Papa,” she told her father, who remained standing in the parlor in stunned confusion.
Harris quit the room with her as fast as his legs could take him—and before any chaperone should show up to interfere.
The moment they were outdoors, the lady coughed,ahem. “An explanation, Mr. Harris, is in order I believe?”
“Of course, Miss Winthrop. But first I must confirm: This Mr. Finch I just saw quit your house, is he the man you described courting you?”
“He is the reason I sought your help, sir.”
“Then I understand your situation, miss, and empathize all the more.”
“You know him?”
“Miss Winthrop, I—” He halted on the street, overcome. “We must do everything in our power to ensure you do not marry him.”
She stiffened on his arm. “Then he is worse than I imagine?”
“Annabelle, he is—” He swallowed. “Forgive me for being so familiar, miss, but Mr. Finch is?—”
“Not at all, sir.” Her smile was radiant. “And you may call me Bella, as both my employer and, I now presume, my suitor.”
“And you may call me Arthur, Bella. But if your father is at all mixed up with Ronny Finch, his courtship does not bode well for you, or for your papa.”
“Which is why youhave decided to court me too?” She arched one elegant eyebrow, making his knees weak.Damnation, Jasp!
Harris gathered his wits, fast. “Yes. More suitors create more competition for your hand, thereby demonstrating your worth.”
“But posing as my suitor does little to prevent my father marrying me off to someone else, someone worse, perhaps, than?—”
“No one is worse than Finch, Bella.No one.” He prayed she wouldn’t ask why, because he didn’t want to have to tell her.
“Then I must win big, sir, at your tables, in order to free myself.” She met his eyes with fresh determination.
Harris scowled back.
“Please, Arthur, let me disguise myself and?—”
“No.” He pulled her close, turning them about. “You will be that much more vulnerable.”
“But I will not lose!” She halted them there upon the street, nearly stomping her dainty foot in dismay. “You know I won’t lose, so why can’t I?—”
