Page 45 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

“I need a partner in what lies ahead. Someone to talk things over with who has a real interest in what becomes of my ventures. And it would be beneficial to have a wife for all the social aspects of taking up my residence here.” Harry presented the points slowly, as though uncertain of them rather than the fact that he made them up on the spot. “As I said, I need advice. Perhaps you could help.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, then frowned and started to speak—only to halt before doing more than emitting a squeak.

“You think it’s a terrible idea,” he said, trying not to grin. Her lack of answer might mean—at least he hoped it mean—she did not like the idea of anyone filling such a role in his life. It would necessarily replace her, after all. “I understand. I suppose I’m not the best candidate for a husband. Take away my fortune, and what am I?” He looked down as he scuffed his shoe along the grass, hiding his amusement. “Please, put the request from your mind. It is absurd.” He took a step away but stopped when her hand grasped his forearm.

“I did not say that. You ought not to put words in a lady’s mouth.” She pursed her lips and he became very interested, for a short moment, in her mouth. “You merely took me by surprise. You have never even hinted at such a thought before. Do you—do you have a young lady in mind?” her voice rose on the last words and she cleared her throat hastily after speaking.

Harry stared at her, hope prompting him to speak some of the truth. “There is one lady I have found myself thinking of a great deal, especially of late.”

She removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. “Really? Might I ask her name? Do I know her?”

“I would prefer not to tell. You see, I think she finds me a rather worthless sort. My holdings impress her very little. My wit, less so.” He stepped away from the hedge, into a small meadow where a cow grazed. The cow likely belonged to the vicar, as the house was within calling distance.

Daisy followed close behind him. “That cannot be true. You are a good man, with a kind and generous heart.” She walked around him, stopped before him, and glared. “Any woman who captures your interest is fortunate. I will tell anyone who asks the very same.”

She stood so close. It would be an easy thing to bend down and brush his lips against hers, to find out what she tasted like. Today she smelled of sunshine and meadows, of brisk winds and cool forests. The last time he had seen her, she had smelled like fresh bread and roses. She was everything good and beautiful, joy wrapped in the image of a woman. He did not deserve her heart.

But he longed to give her his own.

“You are kind to say such things,” he said, watching as her blonde eyelashes fluttered when she blinked. “What would you say to a woman to convince her I would suffice as a husband?”

It was an underhanded way to trap her into considering him. He was asking for compliments and praise where he deserved none. But if she could see the good in him, the ways he tried to be a better man, perhaps she would see the possibilities for the two of them to be together.

Daisy’s color rose again and she turned away enough that her bonnet hid her face. She spoke quickly, “I am sure I do not know.”

“Then I am without hope.” He certainly had none if she could not think of one redeeming quality in him. “As my friend, and a very observant woman, I thought you might see what I cannot.”

She took several steps away from him, the grass brushing against her hems, then turned to stare at him. What must she be thinking? Her eyebrows drawn together, her arms tightly folded across her waist. She appeared pained, and he nearly ended his ruse that instant. But she spoke first.

“I think you know quite well why a woman would agree to your suit, Horace Devon. I cannot decide if it is vanity or modesty that prevents you from saying so yourself. You are intelligent and kind. You are thoughtful of others and you are humble enough to correct your behavior when you are in the wrong. The people in your life are important to you. And you—you always make me want to laugh at my own foolishness and yours.” She stopped, biting her bottom lip.

Harry watched as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open into an O. It was like watching a wave approach the shore, waiting for it to break, and he saw the moment Daisy came to her revelation. She spun around in almost the same instant, presenting him with her back.

§

What is wrong with me? I should be able to help Harry without falling to pieces like this. Daisy took several deep breaths, keeping her back to him, even while her heart attempted to break free of her chest with its pounding. Her throat closed up over the truth she dared not speak. I do not want him to go off and find a wife. I want him to spend more time with me.

But why?

She shivered when another breeze tugged at her bonnet, her spencer keeping none of the chill away.

A physical weight settled upon her, startling her from her thoughts. Harry’s greatcoat closed before her, the sleeves flapping in the breeze while his hands held the thick fabric to her shoulders. She turned, reflexively reaching out to grasp the front of the greatcoat. Harry’s hands fell to his sides and he offered a sheepish sort of smile.

“I would not wish you to catch cold,” he said, his morning coat the only protection against the chilly afternoon. The heat he’d left in his wool overcoat warmed her. The fabric smelled like him, too. Like leather and sandalwood, and ginger and cinnamon.

Daisy took hold of his arm before he moved out of reach. “Thank you.”

He stilled and his smile disappeared. He bowed. “Anything for you, Daisy.”

Did he mean it? Anything?

She studied his lips, pressed in an earnest line. Then his blue eyes. Eyes that were bright and soft at the same time. Daisy still held his sleeve, she realized, but this thought did not make her let it go. Instead, she stepped closer to him.

“You are always kind,” she said slowly.

He lowered his head slightly, perhaps in agreement. “You said that already. Is there nothing else to recommend me, Miss Ames?”

They stood so close, and she was as wrapped up in his gaze as she was in his greatcoat. All of this to return a handkerchief.