He offered his arm to her. “Thank you, Miss Ames. Shall we join the young ladies?” She wrapped her hand around his arm, allowing his charm—for once—to make her smile.
§
The measure of accomplishment he felt in Miss Ames’s acceptance of his invitation was greater than Harry expected it would be. He didn’t stop to examine the triumph, brushing it aside as a normal reaction to a lovely woman.
Harry followed after the girls, Miss Ames on his arm, at a more sedate pace than the children favored. The story he’d told them of hearing their happy chatter and investigating had been true. But the blackberry bushes hadn’t drawn him to that portion of his property. He’d been briskly walking the perimeter of the landscaped grounds, grumbling to himself about his own ignorance. The laughter of children had drawn him, most pleasantly, from his sour mood. The distraction of Miss Ames on his arm further soothed his disgruntled attitude.
“Thank you for sharing your bushes with us,” she said, pulling him away from the edge of his mental precipice once more.
“It is entirely my pleasure to be of service to you.” They rounded the entrance to the property and walked alongside the hedge. “I wonder, Miss Ames, if you could explain something to me.”
Her expression remained neutral and polite. Was she to be that version of herself today? The lady with the placid exterior and lack of warmth? The lady who made him feel, when he really thought on it, like a spoiled little boy begging for more sweets?
“Of course, Mr. Devon.”
“What has become of your gloves? Or a bonnet?” He nodded to the top of her head and put a gloved hand over her fingers on his sleeve. “Have we left them behind? I would be happy to go and fetch them for you.”
“Oh.” Pink seeped into her cheeks, she turned hastily away. “No. I did not—that is to say, I went out quite without them. I hadn’t meant to go far from my own garden. I—”
Harry stopped walking, and she did as well. “Miss Ames, I am sorry. I should not tease you. But as I have three older sisters, it often comes far too naturally. Please, forgive me.”
For the barest moment she stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Then a twinkle appeared in her eye, followed closely by a faint smile. “It is quite all right, Mr. Devon. You are forgiven.” Then she withdrew her hand to pull her shawl tighter around herself. “It isn’t the best example to those girls, the vicar’s daughter wandering about without gloves and hat.”
He looked ahead, where the misses in question were darting to and fro along the hedge, gathering berries. “I doubt they have even noticed.”
“I suppose not. Though they likely noticed your familiarity with me.”
He turned swiftly at the regretful tone of her voice, in time to see Miss Ames’s wince. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Familiarity, Miss Ames? I hope I did what any gentleman would in coming to your aid. Unless the title has come to mean something else in these parts.” He raised his eyebrows theatrically, though he thought over his conduct to be certain he hadn’t done anything ill-mannered. Had he stood too near? Admired her features overlong?
“Oh, no. That is not what I meant.” Her cheeks had darkened from a pale pink to a dusky rose color. “It is only—only that you are recently come back, and people are already speaking of you. I mean, that is to say—” She broke off, forehead wrinkling in her distress.
Harry considered her for a moment before he realized what she was trying to verbalize. In the time he’d been in the neighborhood, Harry had become creative in wriggling free from invitations extended by the neighbors. Truthfully, he had little time for entertainment since engaging himself to learn about managing his affairs. He’d thought a day with each of the three men principally in charge of things would be enough. But he’d yet to even fully grasp everything his steward had imparted to him, in a two-week span of time.
Hoping to put Miss Ames at ease, he took a step back from her. “Miss Ames, it’s quite all right. I understand. Having your name bandied about with mine would cause quite the sensation.” He lowered his eyes to the ground. The idea didn’t offend him. But why does she object to me so much?
She stepped closer, putting her hand on his arm. “Mr. Devon, I have no wish to offend you. I do not like gossip, sir. I strive to avoid being a subject of it. That is all. The excitement surrounding your return makes you a particularly sought-after subject. Those two sweet girls there,” she nodded in their direction, “one is the granddaughter of the seamstress, who is kind but very talkative with all who seek her services. The other girl is daughter to the butcher, who speaks with representatives of every household in the neighborhood.”
He regarded the children, realization creeping into his thoughts. “Anything those two girls tells their families is likely to be told to the whole town,” he said, somewhat awed by the power the two children unknowingly held.
Miss Ames nodded, her hand slipping away from his arm again. “And once rumors begin, they spread quickly, and as often as not change in the telling.”
“Then we had better make certain the young ladies know exactly what to tell people. You, Miss Ames, take your ease on that bit of grass there and leave it to me.” He gave her his most confident grin, the kind his sister Rebecca said portended mischief, and strode confidently to the two girls picking berries.
“Have you found enough yet? Oh, no. That paltry amount will not suffice. We must fill your baskets to the brims. Come, there is a trick to it.” He took off his gloves after making a show of inspecting their harvest. Then he took off his hat. It wasn’t one of his finest, but it was tall enough to rival the carrying capacity of their baskets.
“I will fill my hat, which you can see is very empty, as fast as I can. Try to fill your baskets before I can do that, won’t you? We will have a race.”
Both girls seemed delighted by the idea and hurried to get an even larger lead on him. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Miss Ames staring after him, openly wearing her shock. He waved at her, then made good on his challenge to the girls.
His only advantage was his higher reach, as he could get berries above their heads. The girls giggled and laughed and encouraged each other to go faster and faster. He laughed with them and teased as much as he could, not allowing them to look into his hat to view his progress.
The smaller one, whose name had alluded him until the older called it out, finished her basket first. “Look, look!” She rushed over to him and held it out for his inspection. Then she sat the basket down. “Now I shall help Lucy and we will win the race.” She turned and spun, the ribbons of her bonnet flying up behind her.
Harry called after her, “I shall still win, Miss Janie!” His hat wasn’t even half full.
Miss Ames had followed his suggestion to sit on the grass, watching the display.
“Miss Ames,” he called, “you didn’t tell me they were champion foragers. This hardly seems a fair race.”
She laughed, the sound bright and happy as a spring morning. “Mr. Devon, you ought to have studied the situation more keenly. You have none to blame but yourself.” But the smile she bestowed on him, one that was relieved and grateful, indicated she knew well enough what he was about.
Harry didn’t speak to her again, though he continued calling out to his competition. He’d given himself a thorough distraction, and hopefully gave the girls something to talk about other than his assistance to Miss Ames.
At last the older of the two declared her basket filled, and Harry admitted defeat dramatically. Then he offered his escort to the young ladies, at least partway down the lane, where the road branched.
Miss Ames followed behind them by several steps until they came to the turn-off that led to the village. The girls went on their way with waves and smiles. After they’d turned their backs, Miss Ames came to stand at his side.
“Well done, Mr. Devon. I believe those girls nearly forgot my presence.” He studied her from the corner of his eye, noting the way she tilted her hea
d to the side when amused. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. “Thank you for understanding the situation.”
Harry waved her thanks away easily. “I have sisters, Miss Ames. I know what a woman’s reputation means to her. I wouldn’t want yours to be questioned.” He turned to face the direction of the vicarage. “I find myself wanting to walk in this direction, Miss Ames. Might I assume you are going the same way?”
With his back to her, he couldn’t see her expression. Had he made peace enough with her to bring back the smiling, cheerful woman he’d met the day he saved the cat?
“You assume correctly. This time.” She stepped up beside him. “I suppose you would like a travel companion for the arduous journey ahead of you?” she asked, and when he cut a glance at her, he saw her lips twitching upward.
The knots inside Harry loosened and he bowed, his hat still in hand. “I would appreciate that, yes. And would the lady care to share my provisions for the duration of our sojourn?”
She laughed and peered inside his misused head-covering. “You have quite ruined your hat, Mr. Devon. Those berry stains will not come out. I cannot think your valet will thank you.”
“I currently do not employ a valet.” Harry peered into the hat as well and studied the splotches of purple berry juice. “But as all the stains will be on the inside, I cannot see there being any difficulty in wearing the hat again.” He withdrew a few and popped the berries into his mouth.
“No valet?” she asked, looking him over with obvious skepticism. “I find that difficult to believe, with a gentleman of your standing.”
“I make do. The Gilberts’ footman saw to assisting me today. There is usually someone about if I need help.” He withdrew some berries and held them out to her, realizing belatedly he’d never put his gloves back on.
Miss Ames regarded him with puzzlement, but then took the berries, her fingertips not even brushing against his palm. But his skin remembered the feel of hers anyway, from bandaging her scrape. Her hand, warm and soft, marred by the brambles, had been delightful to hold for even a short amount of time.
With a sudden need to say something to her, to repair the opinion she had of him, he blurted out, “I have been meeting with the estate’s steward.”
She started at his rush of words, her lips parted with a berry hovering just before them. She cleared her throat and lowered the fruit. “I recall you said you wished to do something of the sort.” She waited, politely, for him to continue.
Harry, without much direction of thought, began talking to cover his embarrassment. “I thought a single meeting would be enough to determine how the estate ought to be managed, but it has been twelve days and I feel more confused than when we began. There is much to take into account in running a property the size of Whitewood, things I never considered. Did you know there is a dam on the property? And twelve families are tenants. Twelve. And there is a household staff, the gardeners, the groomsmen, the gamekeeper, and likely a flock of other people I have yet to hear about.”
While he spoke, her expression changed from confusion to amusement. “You didn’t know how many people depend upon your estate for their livelihood? Was that information not in the regular reports your steward sent you?” She plunked a berry into her mouth, her eyes laughing at him even if her lips were pressed together.
Harry fished more berries from his hat. Their progression down the road was slow, they were barely nearer the vicarage than when they’d begun. Miss Ames showed no impatience to be on her way. Perhaps she wanted to know more about the situation, and given her view of gossip she was likely a safe confidant.
“A lot of information was not in the reports.” Harry huffed. “There are things I am learning of that I find important, like knowing the number of children running about on my lands, that my father apparently never cared for. The steward has been sending me reports of a nature that would be sufficient for Mr. Charles Devon but are entirely lacking for me.”
Miss Ames reached out and brushed her fingers against his knuckles, arresting his attention to the spot where she touched at once. He realized he’d taken hold of the brim of his hat and started twisting it in his frustration. He immediately relaxed his grip.
“You do not wish to spoil your hat even more,” she said, her voice gentle and almost teasing. “Mr. Devon, you seem rather vexed. Why? You have found a problem, but I am certain you will find a solution as well.”
He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers, his heart thrumming quite pleasantly to find her so near.
One would think I have never been in close proximity to a pretty girl before. Harry cleared his throat and tucked his hat beneath his arm, berries still inside. “I am not certain I am the right person for this, Miss Ames,” he said. “My father had a good head for business. He managed things in a certain style, in a particular manner, and I haven’t been trained up in his way. I am giving serious thought to leasing the house.”
She tucked her hands behind her back, regarding him with a frank expression. “Mr. Devon, that will only delay the inevitable. You have already started your garden, you may as well finish and see what sort of harvest you reap.” She nodded once, firmly, then began walking again. She’d made it several steps before he rushed to follow.
“Garden? Miss Ames, I have only just begun to understand shepherds and sheep. Please, no more metaphors.”
“Parables, Mr. Devon.” She gave him a disapproving frown. “But very well. I think, sir, that you are troubled by the idea of walking away more so than you are by the idea of staying put. What I cannot understand is why you would consider leaving in the first place. Whitewood estate is stunning in its entirety. The people of Annesbury village are kind. The neighborhood charming. Why not remain here and build your life? Especially considering all the good you might do.”
He drew up, his mind sorting through her words and latching on to a horrid idea. “All the things I might do because of my money?” he asked, then clamped his mouth shut. One did not discuss one’s income in such a manner, with a near-stranger. Why had his tongue been so loose?
She shook her head. “Because of your influence. Because of the people who depend upon you. Your standing in this community could be of nearly as much importance as that of the Earl of Annesbury. You own nearly as much land in this county as he does. Yes, you have wealth, but it means nothing to the people here if they never see any of it.” She spoke as if the money meant nothing, and he supposed she might be free with it when it did not belong to her.
“I have no influence here, Miss Ames,” he said. It seemed the smiling Miss Ames was gone and in her place was the sermonizing vicar’s daughter once more.
“You could change that.” She regarded him with a more cautious expression. Perhaps she sensed the withdrawal of his more charming nature. “You could be an example of kindness, of gentility, to this neighborhood. The earl is a good man, but he is often gone to other properties and to London. It would be good to have another to look to when he is away. Someone to be a voice of respect and reason.”
“I would think your father would fill that position readily enough.” Harry didn’t exactly sound bitter, but he knew he didn’t sound pleasant either.
Her eyes grew distant and she turned away. “My father does his best, but the people are not particularly close to him.” She sighed. “And the curate is still too new to have much trust.”
“I’m as new as Mr. Haskett.” Harry bit his tongue. Why was he continuing this conversation? He ought to bid her good day and have done with all of it. Especially given his mounting frustration. It would be easier to leave again. Much easier than accepting the responsibility she put upon him with her words.
“Not really.” She appeared focused on the ground before her feet, stepping lightly around the larger stones and pebbles. “Your name is familiar, your sisters well-liked, and your reputation somewhat established. There is far more in your favor than against it.”
Harry tamped down his frustration, turning his hat ove
r as they walked, spilling the last few berries, leaves, and twigs onto the road.
“What is against it, Miss Ames?” He didn’t look at her as he fixed his hat back upon his head. “Besides my lack of caring for my responsibilities.”
Her head turned sharply in his direction, her eyes narrowing at him. “Mr. Devon, I have obviously offended you with my observations. Perhaps it is best that we leave this conversation where it is.” They were nearly to the vicarage gate. He could easily do as she asked.
Except now that they had come to this point, the conversation irritated him as surely as a pebble in his shoe might.
“Miss Ames.” He stopped, and she did as well, straightening her shawl. “I cannot say the idea of settling permanently in the neighborhood appeals to me, but you are not the first to suggest it. If I am to consider such a thing, I should like to have facts laid out before me. You have given me a great many things to think about in regard to the way I can help this community. But then you imply there are things not in my favor. What are those things?”
His long hours working with his steward gave him every reason to wish to bolt, to take up a life of leisure in Brighton, Bath, London, anywhere but this country village. Yet learning how ignorant he truly was of what it meant to be a landowner stung his pride.
She studied him, her gray eyes taking in his expression, reading him. Did she see his earnestness, or did she only see a presumptuous man who had no right to prod her in such a manner?
“Here I thought you a most incorrigible gentleman,” she said at last. “But you really wish to know these things?”
“I do. Yes.”
She regarded him with the same sort of interest one might a mathematics problem. Searching for an answer yet not entirely willing to work one out.
“The thing you have most against you is not of your doing,” she said at last. “Your father’s reputation has cast something of a shadow. People wonder just how alike you are to him.”
Harry’s blood ran cold. He turned away from her, clenching his jaw. “That is all?” he asked at last, the light tone obviously false. “Of course. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all. Thank you for your information, Miss Ames. I hope you have a good day.” He bowed and took his leave of her, not meeting her eyes again.
Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6) Page 6