Page 46 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

The square linen in her reticule had been nothing more than an excuse—a reason to be near him again without telling him how much she wanted to see him. Daisy no longer denied her attraction to Harry, but could it ever be more? What of her dreams, her plans, for the school?

Harry knew how important it was to her. Would he ask her to give it up? She wouldn’t know unless she asked.

She wet her lips before speaking and saw his eyes dart down to watch the action. The world around them, already turning gray, darkened and blurred. Daisy stepped closer to him, determined to ask what he thought about her school, if he might consider her as a prospective bride.

“Harry—” She stopped, surprised at the low, soft quality of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound like that at all.

He leaned in, locking her to him with his stare. “Yes, Daisy?”

Bother. She forgot what it was she wanted to say, because all she could think about, all her attention, settled on one thought. I wish he would kiss me.

And then he did.

His lips brushed across hers before she became fully aware of him moving. Or had she moved? It hardly mattered which of them had closed the gap. She stood on her toes—his lips were gentle, pressed to her own, and his hands were at her waist. He pulled away first, enough to rest his forehead against hers. She lowered herself back to her heels.

“Do I owe you an apology, Miss Ames?” Harry asked, voice deepened by emotion, his eyes still closed.

Her hands rested on his forearms, holding onto him. “If you apologize for that kiss, I might never forgive you.”

He chuckled and stepped back, releasing her waist to take up her hands in his. He studied her, the familiar playful gleam returning to his eyes. “Have you grown fond of me, I wonder?” He tilted his head to one side and Daisy mirrored the movement.

“I think I must have. I am afraid, Mr. Devon, I cannot possibly advise you on how to go about seeking a lady’s hand. Not when I am wishing, all the while, that it is me you are searching for.” It was a daring statement, and a bold red likely rose in her cheeks if the sudden heat she felt there was anything to judge by.

Harry startled her by laughing, his voice echoing in the empty space around them, bouncing off the vicarage itself perhaps. “You are much braver than I am. I have been trying to determine how to tell you that very thing for days.”

Daisy gripped his hands tighter. “Truly?” He brought one gloved hand up to his lips and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

“Truly. If you are willing, I will ask your father for permission to court you properly. Make my intentions known.”

Her heart shivered with joy.

And then she remembered the school and stepped back, gently taking her hands from his. “What about my desire to educate the children? I do not wish to give it up.”

For a moment he appeared puzzled and she steeled herself for an argument.

“I would never ask you to,” he stated. As simply as that, he removed her greatest doubt. Almost her only doubt. Except, there was that little voice tugging at her still. Until a short time ago, Harry Devon had lived for his own pleasure and did not give much of a thought to anything else. Was it possible he might tire of this new life? Managing an estate, and his other holdings, would not be easy. What if he decided it was not for him?

Harry grinned at her, and her worries dissipated like morning fog in the sunlight.

All will be well. She pulled his greatcoat more tightly around her and continued walking to the vicarage, he falling into step beside her.

“Perhaps you ought to speak to my father. Maybe not this evening.” She glanced at him, trying not to smile too broadly. “I would like to have a little time to prepare him for the idea.”

“When I come back from London,” Harry said, reaching for her hand. He guided it through his arm and brought it to his lips for another kiss. “And not a moment later, Daisy.”

She shivered in delight. Her sisters had warned her what it would be like, when she found a gentleman who caught her eye. She had scoffed at their romanticisms.

She owed them both an apology.

Chapter Seventeen

Asmile continued to tease Daisy’s lips, even after Harry had been away for three days. Every time she thought of his hand on her cheek, the touch of his lips upon hers, a pleasant warmth spread from her tingling lips to her toes. Whether she was dusting her father’s books or ordering her notes and schedules for her classes beginning in January, she hummed to herself every happy tune she knew.

Drifting down the steps to the ground floor, ignoring the damp weather outside the vicarage, a harsh knock at the door finally startled Daisy out of her blissful fog.

No one rushed to answer it. Having few servants meant their occupation called them away from the front of the house all too often.

Daisy went to the door and opened it, a pleasant greeting rising to her lips.