Page 40 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

“Advise me on educational reforms and how best to support a movement that will offer education to all, no matter their station in life.” He smiled, without the teasing tilt to his lips, and his eyes softened. “All you say about the education of the children in our village is true for children throughout the country. And not everyone is so fortunate as to have someone like you championing their daughters.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks, straight from her heart. Had she done this to Harry? Did she inspire him to such action, or was it the cause itself? It should not matter—yet it did. She wanted him to rise to this new desire, to help others as she so longed to help them, and perhaps because it was she who first presented him with the thought. Not that she wished for credit. But she wished to be a part of his thoughts. A part of his plans.

“I would be most happy to discuss my thoughts on the matter with you, whenever you wish.” She stared into his eyes, admiring the way the light from the window picked up gold flecks in his irises. He always exuded warmth and excitement, and he often left her laughing or exasperated. But this was an entirely new side to him, and it was most intriguing. He saw her as an equal, given the tone of his conversation and the desire for her advice. That did not happen often in her conversations with gentlemen.

“Thank you.” The simplicity of the words did not diminish the obvious gratitude in his voice. “There is one other reason I am here today.”

Daisy’s heart picked up in rhythm. “Oh?” she asked, anticipation building, though she did not know why.

“Mrs. Gilbert sent me with an invitation to dinner, for you and your father.” He reached into his coat and produced a folded paper, holding it out to her.

Annoyed at the way disappointment threatened, Daisy accepted the paper from his hand and unfolded it. What had she been hoping he would say?

“Should I tell her you will come? I am not certain it makes a difference, but I will be there as well.”

It did make a difference. She felt her cheeks warm as she admitted that much to herself. “Yes, we accept the invitation. Of course.”

Harry grinned and rose from his chair. “Wonderful. I will deliver your acceptance to Christine. Now, I had better be going. I can see how busy you are.”

She stood too. “I will see you out.” They started to the door, but Daisy stopped abruptly. “Oh, Harry. I still have your handkerchief. Allow me to fetch it.”

For a moment he appeared puzzled, then he chuckled. “From the bramble incident? Do not trouble yourself. If you like, I can fetch it another time. Perhaps when we speak of the school next.”

Daisy ought to have insisted he take it right away. She really had no business holding onto it any longer, as it was his personal property. Yet having it in her possession afforded her another opportunity to speak to him. Something she found herself anticipating most happily.

“I suppose the return of your handkerchief does afford me a proper excuse for seeing you another time.” She bit her tongue at her boldness. Her ridiculousness.

They stood in the hall, at the top of the steps, when she spoke. Harry stopped walking and turned to face her. Though they were but a foot apart, Harry took a step closer.

“If you say things like that, Miss Ames, I shall think you have grown fond of me.” It was almost a flirtation, but for the even tone he used, tempered with a gentle smile.

Fond of him? She swallowed, realizing there was more to it than that. “Perhaps I have,” she admitted, her heart picking up speed.

“Fonder than when we rescued Bell?” he asked, his voice a trifle lower.

Every particle of Daisy’s body became aware of him, his nearness, the alert way he stood and how his voice made her tingle from her toes upward. What on earth was happening to her? She lowered her eyes, trying to sort out her feelings in too hasty a manner for it to be done with any certainty.

“Yes,” she answered, distracted by her strange physical response to make light of the situation or tease.

He leaned closer; she practically felt the warmth in his voice emanating from the rest of him. “Fonder than when we decided to be friends?”

Daisy’s eyes darted upward and her lungs constricted. Why couldn’t she breathe or move? What was happening? He stood so close. She lowered her eyes to his lips. What would it be like—? She startled herself out of the thought and took a step back.

“Thank you for coming with the invitation, Mr. Devon.” Formality did not save her, because he raised his eyebrows at the use of his surname and that started a whole new flood of sensations through her. “I will see you at dinner tomorrow. Excuse me.” She took another step back.

To his credit, he neither pressed the issue nor teased. He bowed, his expression almost contrite. “Until then, Miss Ames.” Was he not going to call her Daisy again? Throwing the light of formality on the situation was not meant to be permanent, after all. He started down the steps and she hurried to the railing.

“Harry?” she called softly, hoping her voice would not carry to her father’s study. The gentleman paused and looked up, expression curious, his eyes…hopeful? “Perhaps I could return your handkerchief the day after that? Friday. Where you rescued Bell?”

What was she thinking? Forward, presumptuous, ridiculous—

“I would like that.” His grin returned. “Good day, Daisy.”

“Good day.” She watched him go to the entryway, collect his hat from a hall table, and disappear out the door. As it shut behind him, Daisy knew something essential within her had changed. Perhaps had been changing, all along.

She floated back to her table covered in notes and books, though she did not so much as lift a single one. She opened the invitation to dinner again, hardly taking in Mrs. Gilbert’s words. Her mind remained preoccupied with one subject; what exactly were her feelings for Harry Devon? And what would become of her dreams if she gave way to them?

Examining her heart took the better part of the afternoon, and she was no closer to an answer when the room darkened around her.