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THREE DAYS LATER ~ MORNING

Hummingas SirWaddlesby rooted around by her feet, nibbling on succulent spring grass, Araminta hung the laundry to dry. Papa had arrived home the day before yesterday and had taken to his bed with a severe chest cold.

Aspoor luck would have it, Callidora and Laurella had contracted the illness, though the robustness of youth had reduced their symptoms to sore throats, a slight fever, and a hacking cough.

Thetwins enjoyed spending a few days in their bedclothes, tucked under a swath of blankets, while they read the treasures they’d borrowed from the town’s new library, sipped tepid ginger tea laced with honey, and spooned steaming chicken broth.

Witha household of sick people to care for, Araminta had missed her shift at the library yesterday. She’d sent a note round to Darius, apologizing and promising she would return as soon as possible.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t presume her absence would become habitual. More often than not, her life was a predictable routine, which perhaps was why working in the library held so much appeal. In point of fact, she wouldn’t mind being a clerk in the bookstore either, not that her schedule permitted it.

Neitherwould Papa.

Shestill hadn’t finished writing her current novel, and the manuscript was due next month. Her publisher had inquired about the story’s progress in the correspondence Araminta had received yesterday, along with her royalty payment—a missive strongly suggesting that she attend Westbrook’sBook & CoffeeEmporium’s grand opening event.

Wrinklingher nose, she glanced upward, her attention following a chaffinch’s graceful path as the bird flitted to the apple tree on the other side of the parish lawn. Normally, the sweet little birds hopped around beneath the hedgerows.

Agentle breeze tickled the tree’s pinkish-white blossoms.

Asshe watched, the chaffinch took to wing again, this time landing atop the embattled parapet’s corner pinnacle.

Shesurveyed the timeworn, age-mellowed stones of the ancient parish. She loved this rustic, rubblestone church. Its existence, dating back centuries, was an enduring symbol of strength and constancy to the community, but especially to Araminta and her family.

SaintAndrew’s was also the only home she and her sisters had ever known. Papa had no desire to advance his career and move to a larger parish. He vowed he’d die preaching from SaintAndrew’s pulpit.

Aninvoluntary sigh escaped Araminta, causing her cheeks to puff out momentarily.

Perhapsit was just as well she had a few extra days to digest Darius’s compliment.

Your inner beauty, composed of goodness, kindness, and generosity, outshines Eudora as brightly as the sun does a candle.

Aramintawanted to believe his reverently spoken words meant more than they did—that his break with Eudora wasn’t simply because of that woman’s devious and avaricious nature. That perhaps he might have feelings for Araminta…

Shesecured a sheet on the line with a wooden pin.

Tonight, her family would sleep on spring-freshened-air-dried-sun-warmed sheets.

Cleansheets.

Oneof life’s often overlooked blessings.

Hadshe been of a different temperament, she might’ve resented being cast into the role of mother to her sisters, hostess for her father, and secret income supplementer. Instead, she accepted her lot and did so with a cheery attitude.

Whatgood would sulking, pouting, complaining, and being an all-around grumbletonian do? Besides, thanks to her late mother’s encouragement, she was a bona fide published author. Even though she wrote under a pen name.

Untilnow, Araminta rarely considered what would become of Papa and the twins should she marry. They relied on her so much. The point was moot as she’d never had a serious suitor—ClarenceButton’s wholly one-sided infatuation notwithstanding.

Butlove had awakened her soul—even if the man responsible for rousing her heart from dormancy would likely never know. Still, that didn’t prevent her from daydreaming when she should have been sleeping so she wouldn’t awaken exhausted the next day. That same foolhardy preoccupation might also be partially responsible for why she’d fallen behind on her novel.

Howmany times since the day she’d accidentally knocked him off his ladder had she lost herself in woolgathering about Darius?

She’dlost count.

Dareshe harbor a tiny hope that he had developed a budding regard for her as she had for him, or was he simply being kind or gentlemanly? Naturally, as a duke’s son, one would expect him to have impeccable manners.

Exceptexperience had taught her from occasional interactions with aristocrats in the past, the behaviors and manners of Le beau monde usually proved self-serving and condescending at best and downright uncivil at worst.

“Stop it, you gullible goose,” she muttered crossly to herself.