Page 38 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

She laughed, then shoved him toward the door. “Go, Harry. I will be discreet in company, never fear.”

He went, with as much haste as possible, needing the person who had spoken the most sense to him since his return to Annesbury.

I hope she hasn’t tired of me yet.

§

The door to Daisy’s morning room did not often receive knocks. Daisy only withdrew to the room when she had accomplished household tasks and could claim time for herself. When the soft knock came, she barely looked up from her work.

“Come in,” she called out, making another notation on her paper. She sat at a long, narrow table positioned to give her a view out the window. A handful of children’s schoolbooks were stacked to the right side of the table, lists of supplies were at her left elbow, and she attempted to create an account sheet for the other things needed for her school. Her meeting at the countess’s home, where other interested parties would be gathered, was but two days away. If she wished to make a good impression, she must be perfectly prepared.

“I am not quite ready for tea,” she said, attempting to multiply the number of drawing pencils by children hoped for, but not yet truly expected.

“Neither am I,” said a deep voice that most certainly did not belong to Mrs. Bramston or Katie.

Daisy dropped her pencil. She rose with some haste, lifting one hand to check her hair was all still in place. She had worn a cap to dust her father’s shelves earlier. The cap was gone, but she could not be certain of the mess it left behind.

“Harry,” she blurted when she saw the handsome young man framed by the doorway, his blue eyes settled upon her as though he had no intention of looking away. As though he wanted to look nowhere else.

Nonsense. Daisy dropped the hand from her hair to gesture to the chairs at the center of the room. “Would you care to sit down? I confess, I was not expecting visitors. Did someone show you in?”

“Your maid,” he said. “She opened the front door, told me Mrs. Bramston was out and she couldn’t leave the oven to show me up here.” He stepped into the room somewhat hesitantly, leaving the door behind him open. “I am not entirely sure what the girl meant.”

“Oh. Cook must have gone out as well and Katie is minding the kitchen.” Daisy turned back to the mess behind her, noting the plate with her half-eaten luncheon and the haphazard scattering of papers. Out of habit, she reached down to try and tidy her piles back into neat stacks.

Harry came up beside her, and her sudden awareness of him stilled her hands.

“Have I disturbed your work?” he asked.

She laughed, a trifle weakly. “No. I am only trying to order my thoughts, yet somehow I have grown more disorganized.” She lifted up the sheet where she had been doing sums, showing him. “For the meeting, with the countess.”

He took the paper from her, his eyes flicking from hers to the list. “At times, when something matters to me, my mind grows muddled at the mere idea of confronting the object of so much thought.”

“That is exactly the same for me.” She lowered herself into the chair where she had been working, fatigued by the whole thing. “And this is so very important, Harry. It is something I have dreamt of. I know, I know, this would be a great blessing for so many of the girls, in many ways.” She rested her elbow on the table, dropping her forehead to her hand. “And so far, not many people have listened to me. Nor do they see the value in the work I wish to do.”

“I cannot understand why.” He turned about to find another chair and brought it to her table. “It is obvious you have a passion for the work, and the ability to see it done correctly. You convinced me of the importance of your school in less than a quarter of an hour.” He put the sheet down and took up her pencil. His eyebrows drew down and in a moment he was scribbling at her math problem.

Daisy studied him, the serious lines of his handsome face, the fine cut of his coat upon his shoulders. His words sunk into her heart, like balm on a bruise, easing some of the tightness there. “Really? You were not merely being kind?”

The pencil paused in its scribbling and he lifted his eyes to hers, the intensity in their blue depths giving weight to his words. “I am in earnest. When someone believes in something as you believe in your school, they ought to be taken seriously. Listened to. And when the cause is just and right, it falls to those privileged enough to learn of it to lend their support.”

Daisy ran her fingers along the edge of the table. She dropped her eyes to the grains of the wood, finding them safer to study than the honest emotion in Harry’s eyes.

“Those are wise words, Mr. Devon. Where did you learn them?” She tried to keep her tone light, as though discussing a less weighty subject.

“My brother-in-law, Dr. Hastings.” Harry gave his attention to the pencil again, allowing her to relax. “He is one of the most intelligent people I know. I spent some time at his home two summers ago.”

She nodded to herself, sorting through what she knew of his family tree. “He lives in Bath. Your eldest sister married him.”

“Yes.” He gave his attention to the sum, finishing it at last, and laid the pencil down. “And Rebecca married the man who is now the Earl of Ivyford.”

“Are they well? Your sisters, I mean.” Somehow, her head had become more muddled the longer she sat doing nothing. Was it because Harry sat so near? Though she did not mind his company, he certainly had interrupted her work. Perhaps that was all it was. The desire to finish her lists. She might not be able to order her thoughts at all until she completed the task.

“They are happy, which is the most important thing.” The answer was strange enough that she looked up, puzzled. “What of your sisters?” he asked, sitting back in his chair. It took her a moment, thinking of the two girls she’d looked up to and chased after, grown into women and wives, leaving her behind.

“Happy,” she said, unable to stop the smile that turned her lips upward. Both of her sisters were pleased with their matches and their lives. “Lily always wanted adventure, and now she lives in India. She sent me a shawl, and my father a fine pipe made of the most beautiful stone. Gabriella lives in Brighton, but sometimes she goes away with her husband on voyages. I think her captain makes her brave.” Daisy had never been much like either of her sisters. Their eyes had always turned to the horizon, while she found delight in the familiarity of the people in their village.

Harry waved a hand to the stack of things upon the table, as one might gesture to a grand vista. “And this, Daisy? Does this make you happy?”