Charming the Vicar's Daughter (3 page)

She leaned toward him and placed a hand on his arm. “We are getting ahead of ourselves talking of marriage for either of us. I shall send word when Mother and I arrive in Town, and you may join us in our calls. You will be on all the important guest lists, I’ll make sure of it.”

The very idea of being paraded before marriage-minded mamas had his chest tightening and the room closing in on him. His own mother hovered over him when he was at home,
Neil, come here. Neil, go there
. He felt like the three small terriers she kept garbed in ribbons and jeweled collars. He was tired of yapping on command. “I wish you wouldn’t. I plan to be at the club most nights. I’m not even certain which club—whichever will have me. I have no intention of signing anyone’s dance cards, nor squiring them about in my curricle. I plan to enjoy the bachelor life as long as I can.”

David strolled into the room. “In that case, you should avoid catching any young ladies falling out of trees.” He winked at Neil, and asked Hannah, “Did he tell you what he did? And with Miss Cookson, no less.”

Hannah gasped. “Rebecca? Neil, what were you thinking? Did you flirt with the vicar’s daughter?”

“You know me too well to think it. I did nothing like you are imagining, cousin.” Neil wiped his brow as warmth crept up his skin. Why was he embarrassed by what had happened? He did nothing wrong. “I am innocent of all charges, save being beneath the gel when she fell.”

Hannah’s jaw dropped and she burst out laughing, before raising a hand to cover her mouth. She continued to chuckle softly while Neil explained the mishap. When he reached the part about their being spied, she said, “Oh, no, not the Widow’s League.”

“I see you know of whom I speak. Are they notorious meddlers?”

“The worst,” David said. “I picked up Miss Cookson’s handkerchief once after church, and the widows had me on bended knee in their tales.”

Neil smiled, some of the tension leaving him at last. “I’m relieved to know I shall escape the fate they have planned for me. They looked quite determined.”

David nudged Neil’s arm. “I came to tell you I must check on a sick foal. Will you come along? I’ll show you the horse I had in mind for you.”

Quickly signing off on his letter, Neil rose and followed David outside. Once they were far enough from the house to not be overheard, he asked the question simmering in his thoughts. “What was it about Lady Joanna that made you certain you wished to marry her?”

David looked off in the distance where some horses grazed in the paddock. “I don’t know that I ever put it in words, or enumerated the pros and cons. I became rather attached to her over the course of a Season. We had a falling out over some dealings I had with her brother, and in her absence it became clear she was necessary for my happiness.”

“I see.” In truth, Neil was uncertain how to respond, in spite of his words. How did one recognize a person was responsible for one’s happiness? He enjoyed so many pastimes, alone and with others. He was rarely unhappy. There must be some difference in his makeup from that of his cousin. Neil didn’t require anyone else to be happy. That was why he was looking forward to arriving in London. His time and his thoughts would be his own, with no one to report to.

He planned to live the bachelor’s life to the fullest.

Chapter Four

The next week passed and Rebecca was delighted to see nothing of Mr. Harrow. She had slipped out the side door after the church service on Sunday to avoid greeting anyone. The only time she saw the widows was at the weekly sewing circle begun by Mama and continued by the ladies in the village after her death. No mention was made there of the young man, and no one looked askance at Rebecca, so she felt safe to assume the moment was in the past.

Her good fortune could not last forever, she discovered. As she made her way home from the Upjohns Wednesday afternoon, she spied members of the Lumley family walking at the crossroads. The twins, Lady Madeleine and Lady Patience, called out to her and rushed ahead of their brothers and Mr. Harrow. “Miss Cookson, how happy we are to see you.” Lady Patience, the slightly taller of the two, spoke with all the enthusiasm a young lady of fourteen could muster.

“Yes, we have wanted to speak to you.” Lady Madeleine glanced back at the young men before leaning closer and whispering, “Is it true our cousin kissed you?”

Lady Patience giggled and nodded, the curly blond fringe around her face bobbing.

Rebecca felt the blood leave her face and said a prayer for civility before answering. She continued walking, keeping her voice low, even though the footsteps behind them didn’t draw any nearer. “He did no such thing. Who is spreading this vicious tale?”

“Why, all the servants have been whispering about it. They say he caught you unawares behind the wisteria bush and stole a quick kiss before jumping back into the coach on his way to the Manor.” Lady Patience was breathless in her telling.

“No, that wasn’t it at all,” Lady Madeleine argued. “It was the old oak in the town square, and he kissed her for an entire minute.”

“He did no such thing, I assure you. There was no kiss. The servants are telling Banbury tales.” Rebecca wished she could run home, but she stood her ground and held herself to a walk. She’d been afraid this would stir up the old stories about her, so she was prepared to face whatever came this time.

“Well, I for one am disappointed,” Lady Patience said with a sigh. “I was hoping you had found a grand love.”

Rebecca adjusted the basket on her arm. She often talked of romance and handsome young men with the twins and their older sister, but never with the object of their discussion so close by. “I do not seek a grand love. Save your sadness. When the gentleman God has intended for me arrives, I shall be quite happy to marry him. Your sister is more deserving of your pity. The poor girl spent an entire Season in London without finding a beau.”

As she hoped, her words sent the twins into an effervescent flurry of words, none of which had to do with Rebecca or Mr. Harrow. The girls were never mean-spirited, but their lives revolved around the heroes in their books and their imaginations. They wished to see everyone happily wed. In that way, she supposed, they were much like the Widows League.

“Miss Cookson?” The soft-spoken voice behind her had to be that of Mr. Harrow. He’d approached so quietly she hadn’t noticed him above the twins’ laughter.

She glanced back, composing her features into a polite mask. “Good day, Mr. Harrow. It’s a fine day for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Quite fine.” He studied her eyes. “I was hoping to see you today. I wished to apologize.”

Slowing her pace slightly to let the girls get ahead of them, Rebecca fell into step with Mr. Harrow. “There is no need for apologies. The matter is behind us. I do not accuse you of anything the gossips would have us doing.”

His hat brim shaded his face, but his blue eyes were bright with some emotion she couldn’t name. She couldn’t look away; they held her trapped. She almost missed his next words.

He broke their gaze, ducking his head slightly before lifting it with a determined thrust of his chin. “I feel as though I should have done something more to put an end to the talk.”

“Anything you would have done would only encourage them. You did well to keep your tongue.”

“How is your father taking it?”

“Really, Mr. Harrow, you make too much of an innocent accident.” Rebecca adjusted her shawl. “It is best forgotten.”

His smile relaxed, becoming more natural. More devilishly handsome, if that was possible. She wished he were a plain man. It would have been easier to continue to dislike him. As it was, he wouldn’t be visiting long enough to get to know him well, which might be a good thing. She’d never pined for a gentleman before and had no intention of learning how.

“I see your basket is empty, and you are walking toward the village, not away from it. You’ve been calling on parishioners?”

“Yes. Mrs. Upjohn is just now getting her strength back.” They had reached the Benjamin house on the outskirts of the village. Rebecca hoped the widow wasn’t at home.

Lady Patience turned to speak to her cousin. “Madeleine and I wish to call on Mary Kingston. Will you and the boys find us there when you are ready to return home?”

“Of course,” Mr. Harrow replied.

The twins left their group. Rebecca needed to separate herself from the young men before the entire village saw her. “I must hurry back. Father will be wondering where I am.”

“It was nice—“ Mr. Harrow’s words were cut off as Mrs. Carlyle stepped out of Mrs. Benjamin’s cottage.

“Miss Cookson. Mr. Harrow, how good to see you. And you boys,” Mrs. Carlyle added, nodding in the Lumley brothers’ direction.

“Good afternoon.” Rebecca hoped she kept the embarrassment—and irritation—from her voice.

Mr. Harrow tipped his hat. “We were walking into the village with the twins when we came upon Miss Cookson. We couldn’t let her continue to walk alone, now could we?”

“Of course not. You are so considerate, Mr. Harrow. Such a gentleman. Has Miss Cookson told you of the assembly next week at the rooms over the Pickled Grouse?”

Rebecca tugged at her shawl, uncomfortable at being put on the spot like this. “If the Lumleys plan to attend, they will likely include Mr. Harrow in their party.”

Mr. Trey Lumley came to stand on Rebecca’s other side. “Yes, of course we will. Do you plan to be here, Neil?”

Mr. Harrow smiled down at Rebecca. “Is that the weekend of the wedding? I would like that. Miss Cookson, will you save each of us a dance?”

That smile held her mind captive, stealing her ability to speak. She normally attended all the assemblies, as did most of the villagers, but no one danced with her since…well, since
that
day. No one under the age of forty, at least. Could the poor man see he was a pawn in this game? She forced herself to respond. “I would enjoy dancing with you. All of you,” she hastened to add.

Mrs. Carlyle clapped her hands. “How delightful. I must go call upon Mrs. Benjamin and Mrs. Lewis.” She bustled off down the lane.

“My father will wonder where I am. Good day to you all,” Rebecca said, nodding to the three young men and heading toward the vicarage.

Mr. Harrow walked with her still. “They don’t seem as meddlesome as I have heard.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Carlyle and Mrs. Benjamin.”

“Don’t forget Mrs. Lewis. How can you say so, when Mrs. Carlyle just signed your name on my dance card?” Was he truly that naive? And his parents were allowing him to live on his own in London? He would be betrothed within a week of his first ball.

“How do you know I wouldn’t have asked you to dance?”

She stopped, pivoting on her toes to face him. “This is not a game, Mr. Harrow. These ladies are determined to find me a suitable husband and the local market has grown low on stock. You do me no favors by playing into their hands. I beg you to stay away from me.”

Mr. Trey Lumley tugged on Mr. Harrow’s sleeve. “She’s right. This is a small village, and people talk. Save the games until you get to Town, although I don’t recommend taking your dealings with the young ladies lightly there, either. Miss Cookson is expected to hold herself to a higher standard than the rest of us, though, being the vicar’s daughter.”

“It’s true,” his brother said. “Although no one takes the widows seriously, Miss Cookson. We know you are a proper lady.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. Mr. Sam Lumley was the sweetest of the men in that family, a quality that might one day find him in a situation he can’t escape. She often added a prayer for God to watch over him and keep away anyone who might abuse his trust. “As I said, I will be happy to dance with each of you at the assembly. Please do not expect me to socialize with you in between sets, however. It is for your well being, as well as mine.”

She turned away before Mr. Harrow could say anything else.

Chapter Five

The assembly room was crowded and warm, laughter and a multitude of voices bouncing off the walls. Neil surveyed the small space, taking it all in. Knightwick, as the highest-ranking man present, began the first set partnered with the daughter of a wealthy landowner, and his brothers seemed to choose their first partners by their rank in the local society, too. The only exception was David, who danced with his fiancée while her mother looked on. Lord and Lady Bridgethorpe had remained at home, as Neil learned they often did now.

Neil hoped to partner first with Miss Cookson, but Knightwick introduced him to a young lady on the verge of spinsterhood. Her looks were plain, her gown less fancy than the other ladies, but her smiled seemed genuine when Neil offered his arm.

While they waited for the music to begin, Neil searched the room for Miss Cookson. She stood further up the line of dancers opposite a white-haired man who looked older than her father. Neil frowned and almost missed the first steps. There were plenty of young men in the room, and most seemed to be enjoying the dancing. Why hadn’t any of them asked to dance with her?

When the set ended and Neil returned his partner to her parents, he made his way through the crowd in search of Miss Cookson. Before he reached her, David caught his sleeve. “Cousin, dance with my bride-to-be. I wish to keep her out of the hands of the riffraff.”

Neil laughed, shaking his head at David’s nonsense. “I will be happy to keep my new cousin safe. Lady Joanna, do you think they’ll play another country dance, or a quadrille?”

“My dear Mr. Lumley tells me the musicians have a very limited repertoire. I believe they will all be country dances.” Lady Joanna’s cheeks had a pretty, rosy glow to them, her golden hair glowed in the light from the chandeliers, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. David had done very well in his choice of a bride.

David nodded toward the corner where the musicians sat. “Farmer Melville and his sons provide the music for most of our assemblies.”

“Do you gather often?” Lady Joanna asked.

“In the spring and in the fall,” David said. “Mother used to invite friends to stay with us in the summer and we’d have a more formal ball at Bridgethorpe Manor, but…”