Page 37 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

He went to Christine.

“Would you like to invite Miss Ames for dinner one evening?” he asked. “Or to come spend an afternoon with you when Thomas is away?”

Christine, who had been standing in the middle of the nursery when Harry walked in to make his request, stared at him as if he’d escaped from Bedlam.

“What was that, Harry?” She put the tin soldier she had been holding on the floor for her sons. They had an impressive array of animals and soldiers lined up for war. She stepped over their battlefield, lifting her skirts to avoid knocking their toys about. “You wish for me to invite Miss Ames here? Why?”

“It doesn't really matter what you invite her to do,” Harry said, “only that you send me with the invitation. I need to speak with her, but if I call on her directly her father may not approve.”

Christine took him by the arm and pulled him from the nursery, down the hall, and into an upstairs parlor. She said nothing as she dragged him about, but acted with her usual vigor. After she placed him before a chair, and took one of her own, she finally spoke. “I can see you are upset. Is it because you need to speak to her, or do you need to speak to her because something has upset you?”

Harry tried to untangle his sister’s words. Apparently, neither of them had been blessed with the ability to speak clearly when disturbed. “The latter. I think.”

She regarded him most seriously, her eyebrows drawn down, an incredulous smile in place. “I see. She is someone in whom you can confide. Is that all?”

He did not need to hide his feelings from his sister, not really, except that she may take it upon herself to meddle. Christine was quite a notorious meddler. But it would be far safer if she knew exactly what was in his mind and heart rather than going about with her own suppositions.

“I have come to care for and admire Miss Ames a great deal.” Harry clasped his hands before him and bent forward. “I have not, however, given her any indication of feeling more toward her than friendship. I do not think she is ready or willing to hear declarations of that sort from me. But you should know, I have every intention of asking her father’s permission to court her.”

Christine’s expression bloomed into one of delight, her grin unrestrained. She seemed at a loss for words, which was incredibly rare for the most outspoken Devon sister.

“Say something, Chrissy,” he prompted at last, though his own grin had spread. “You are making me rather nervous.”

When she spoke, the pitch of her voice was high and her words came quickly. “I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am by the very idea of you courting. Miss Ames is as close to perfect for you as anyone could be. She is kind, and sweet. Your nephews adore her. She is also intelligent enough to think for herself. The only mark against her is that ponderous father of hers, but as he is a vicar, some leniency must be given.”

“I am glad you approve.” Harry, despite his concerns over the matter, relaxed. “Telling someone about this is something of a relief.”

“Why haven’t you told her of your interest?” Christine asked, sitting back and crossing her arms. The pose wasn’t exactly lady-like, but it suited his sister. “You must tell her.”

Harry dropped his face into his hands, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair, likely leaving it a horrid mess. “Miss Ames has consented to being my friend only recently. I cannot say she entirely approves of me yet. I am hoping that as I make improvements to the estate, to our family’s reputation, that she will see I am not the directionless fool she thought I was when I returned.”

“I would say you are making tremendous strides in that endeavor.” The approval in his sister’s voice buoyed his spirits, but not by much.

“The other matter to consider is that I do not believe her father approves of me. That dinner with them, almost a month ago, he all but said it to my face.”

“Keep working to change his mind. You are a good catch, Harry.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Every unwed girl in the neighborhood has practically come right out and asked me if you were considering marriage. What was that book that Rebecca loved—the one that said ‘a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.’” She chuckled. “I think some must truly believe such things.”

There was not much to say to that. It was nearly the truth, after all. He wanted for nothing that money could buy. His wealth ought to be a mark in his favor, but thus far Daisy had only indicated something like disdain for his income. She rose in his estimation for that.

Christine stood and went to a writing desk in the corner of the room. “I will write her a note at once, inviting her to dinner tomorrow evening. You ought to come, too. Then I can amuse myself by watching the two of you together.”

“I accept your invitation. Thank you.” He tapped his foot where he sat, then rose and went to the window, standing near his sister. “Will you invite her father, too?”

“I think that would be the most sensible thing to do, especially if you think he doesn’t care for you. Perhaps his opinion would soften seeing you among family.” She wrote out the invitation in silence, the only sound in the room that of her pen scratching against the paper.

Harry distracted himself by looking out the window, over the grounds to the stable yard. He could see his brother-in-law in conversation with a groom. Thomas Gilbert had taken the family by surprise. Somehow, the quiet man with the dry wit was the perfect match for their adventurous Christine. Harry had seen all three of his sisters show true love and admiration for their husbands. The thought made him happy, but also a touch wistful. Memories of his mother were rare and vague, and he could not conjure an image of his parents together no matter how hard he tried. Theirs was not an amiable marriage, due to his father’s cold nature.

If Harry hoped to have a union based upon more than mutual tolerance, he had to look to his sisters’ examples.

“Do you think Julia and Rebecca would approve as you do?” he asked, somewhat cautiously. His old school chums would think him soft, wishing for the approval of the women in his life on such a thing. But he had no parents to please, no one to advise him, except for the sisters. All three had practically raised him, after all.

He caught Christine’s gentle smile from the corner of his eye. He saw her rise, letter in hand. “We all want your happiness. Whether that is found here with Miss Ames, in London with a duke’s daughter, or on the Continent with a woman who speaks not a word of English.” She held the letter out to him.

“Thank you.” He took the paper and turned it over in his hands, pretending to study the flourish his sister had added to Miss Augusta Ames. “I greatly appreciate this.”

“I only hope it gives you what time you need with her.” Christine gave his arm a squeeze, then pointed to the door. “Away with you. See to your lady love.”

Harry groaned. “Chrissy, I haven’t said anything to her yet. You cannot call her that.”