“Nor can I,” Mr. Crawford interjected. “I cannot imagine you playing with insects, Miss Moseley.”
“Well, it was a long time ago, and I was just a child.” As she spoke, Molly turned her attention to Mr. Crawford. “However, I remain fascinated by them. Their colonies, their metamorphoses, their sheer numbers... insects are strange and wonderful creatures.”
“Please, we should change the subject!” Iris beseeched. “I cannot stomach the thought of anything that slithers or buzzes!”
“Very well. We should speak of something else,” Lord Rocksavage agreed. “What of your mother, Miss Crawford? I thought she was supposed to join us today?”
“She was... but she is still unwell.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Miss Crawford,” said Daniel. “It is nothing serious, I hope?”
“Oh it is hardly serious! I think she is being slightly overdramatic. Any time her head aches, she will lay in bed for hours.” Iris brought a strawberry to her lips, which made Daniel forget all about her mother. As she sunk her teeth into the blistering red fruit, he was riveted. The fruit's juice trickled over her heart-shaped mouth, and when her tongue flitted over her lips, Daniel swore he was being seduced.
When the strawberry was consumed, Iris reached for an apple. As her teeth tore into the apple's flesh, her uncle said, “I could never eat an apple like that... not at my age. I am sure I would lose a tooth the moment my mouth made contact with the fruit.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Molly sympathized with him. “Not long ago, I cracked an incisor.”
“On an apple?” Mr. Crawford inquired.
“No. On a very tender piece of meat.” Molly ran the tip of her tongue along the offending tooth and sighed. “It will probably need to be removed.”
“I am sorry to hear that. It doesn't cause you pain, I hope?”
“Only on occasion,” Molly replied. Her gaze returned to Iris and Daniel, but they were too absorbed in each others' beauty to pay attention to the conversation. “Do you think, perhaps, we could go for a walk? There is a pond not far from here, just over that hill.”
“That's a wonderful idea!” Daniel sprang to his feet and offered a hand to Miss Crawford. He wanted to help her to her feet, but the memory of the slug was too fresh, and his hand had made contact with the creature. Miss Crawford refused to accept his help. However, as soon as she was on her feet, she gladly accepted his arm. Arm-in-arm, they led the way to the hillside. Molly and Mr. Crawford stayed several paces behind.
After a prolonged silence, Julian felt obligated to speak. “So, Miss Moseley...”
“Mr. Crawford.” Molly quietly acknowledged him. She kept her eyes on Iris and Daniel, who had their heads tilted toward one another. Daniel must have said something humorous, because Molly could hear Miss Crawford giggling, even at a distance.
“What can you tell me about Lord Rocksavage?” Julian asked. “Is he suitable for my niece?”
“He is a good man,” Molly assured him. “He's the best man I have ever known... and I have known him all my life.”
“That is certainly good to know. My niece deserves the best.”
“Indeed she does. She is very beautiful and kind,” Molly said. When she turned to Julian, her gaze landed on his strong jaw. He was stoic and withdrawn, but surely women found him attractive? He was still a handsome man. “Mr. Crawford, do you mind if I ask you a slightly inappropriate question?”
“I would not mind at all,” he said, smirking. “In our polite society, no one asks enough inappropriate questions, but I happen to enjoy them.”
“Well...” Molly drew a hesitant breath before continuing. “Have you ever wanted a wife, or have you always preferred to be alone?”
“I love the company of women, but I prefer to be alone,” Mr. Crawford reiterated. “However, there might be a reason for that. Perhaps I have not met the right woman.”
His answer gave her hope. “Really? Do you think you would marry if you met the right woman?”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But I have my reservations. The thought of spending your entire life with one person sounds a bit... daunting. Even at my age, well... I expect to live another twenty or thirty years! That is a long time to spend with one woman.”
“What about love? Everyone wants love, do they not? And companionship?”
“I suppose.”
They had arrived at the pond, where a family of ducks paraded around the water's edge. One of the ducks decided to chase Miss Crawford, which brought an amused smile to Molly's lips. The vicious duck snatched the hem of Iris' dress in its beak, which made the young woman squeal and dash away.
“Why are you so interested in my opinion, Miss Moseley?” The next time she glanced in Mr. Crawford's direction, she noticed that one of his eyebrows had leapt to his forehead.
“I consider myself a matchmaker,” she explained. “A very successful one, might I add. I have arranged the matches of many happy couples.”
“Really?” Molly's response had furrowed his brow. “Let me venture a guess: you think I am a lonely old soul, and you have taken it upon yourself to find a wife for me?”
Molly answered with a slight shrug. “No one truly wants to be alone... not even you. I have not known you very long, but you seem like a good man. You seem to have many amiable qualities. I think you would have a lot to offer a woman.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Interesting.” His attention momentarily drifted to his niece, who had managed to free herself from the mad duck's quacking rage. “What about you, Miss Moseley?”
Molly did not know how to answer, so she simply murmured, “Hm?” She moved to the edge of the water and studied a school of fish. They must have spotted her shadow, because they quickly scattered.
“Have you never thought to arrange a match for yourself?”
“No.” Her answer was as curt as it was prompt. “Never. No one would want a spinster, would they?”
“I don't think anyone would be interested in me, but that isn't stopping you from taking on a hopeless case,” Mr. Crawford said with a chuckle. “And... pardon my observation, but you are a kind, clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Any man over the age of sixty, maybe,” she retorted.
“No. Any man,” he corrected her, “of any age.”
“That is very kind of you, but I am inclined to disbelieve it,” Molly said. “Besides, my spinsterhood is only the first of many problems. My expectations of men are simply too high to be met!”
“Really? And why is that?”
Molly picked a pebble from the ground and chucked it into the pond. Because I have always loved Daniel, and no other man could ever compare to him. She couldn't tell him what was in her heart, so she had to give him another answer. “I am a great lover of romance, Mr. Crawford. In this day and age, romance is practically nonexistent.”
“What would be your idea of a perfect romance, might I ask?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to continue.
“Well...” Molly gently pushed her spectacles to the bridge of her nose. “Something like Romeo and Juliet would be nice.”
“Really?” Her answer made him sneer. “I am inclined to disagree with you.”
“Romeo and Juliet were so in love, they could not bear to live without one another,” Molly explained. “Their love was so passionate, so intense, so--”
“They were foolish children with an infatuation, and they made bad choices that led to their untimely deaths,” Mr. Crawford argued. “That is hardly my idea of romance.”
“Alright then... how about Lancelot and Guinevere?” Molly suggested. “You never hear stories like that anymore.”
“And it is for the best! Infidelity makes me squeamish.”
Molly frowned. Listening to him malign her favorite couples was hardly her idea of a good time. “They loved each other. When you have true love, no obstacle is insurmountable.”
“I am
sure you would feel very differently if you were Arthur,” Julian chuckled. He briefly turned his attention to Lord Rocksavage and his niece, making sure they had not drifted too far. “For curiosity's sake, who did you have in mind for me, Miss Matchmaker?”
“I am not sure.” Molly ran a hand across her cheek, which was covered in perspiration. Miss Crawford was right: it was an abnormally hot afternoon, and she hoped she did not burn. Unlike Iris, she did not have the forethought to wear a bonnet. “I suppose I have not given it too much thought. However, if you agree to let me find someone, I am sure I would find the perfect woman for you.”
Mr. Crawford adamantly shook his head. “I doubt it.”
Molly took a deep breath, trying not to be offended. “Why do you doubt me, Mr. Crawford?”
“Because I doubt you would ever consider yourself as a option,” Julian said. “Miss Moseley, what if I set my cap on you?”
His suggestion made her entire body freeze. She thought she saw Daniel staring in her direction, but her vision was a blur. “P-pardon? Did I hear you correctly?”
“You did. I want you, Miss Moseley.”
“I-I-I... what?!” His unexpected confession had temporarily obliterated her capacity for sensible thought. “You are toying with me, surely.”
“Not in the least.” He sounded so serious, which left no room for doubt. “Now, if you don't mind, I am going to see how my niece is faring. Would you mind if I called on you tomorrow?”
“I--”
“Good.” As he grinned at her, there was a wicked gleam in his eye. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
Chapter Eleven
Dear Madeline,
I have some strange, unexpected news. I think (though I cannot be too sure) that I have acquired myself a suitor. And no, it is not Lord Rocksavage.
Daniel is currently wooing Iris Crawford, and I believe they might be smitten with each other. When I am around them, it is as if I do not exist. After everything I have written, you might assume I have suffered some heart-crushing devastation as a result of their courtship. However, I am surprisingly unaffected, and I believe my new suitor's attentions might have something to do with my peace of mind.
Suitor? Do I really have a suitor? Me? It seems as unlikely as a million stars falling from the sky at once. Surely I am too old, and too plain, to attract the attention of such a man. Mr. Crawford (who happens to be Iris Crawford's uncle) is still a bachelor at five and forty. After all this time, why would he consider settling down with someone as unremarkable as I am? I cannot comprehend it!
To be honest, I more than welcome the attention! After suffering with my unrequited love for so long, perhaps I could benefit from another man's company? Mr. C seems to be a handsome, well-mannered, respectable man. He is slightly reminiscent of a rogue, but I find that appealing as well. With his unkempt hair and slightly unshaven face, I would liken him to a highwayman or an army captain. It is easy to picture him on the back of a horse, heroically brandishing a pistol. However, with his impossibly dark eyes, he is a sinister sort of handsome, as I would imagine Lucifer to be. He is
A knock on the door halted her quill. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of Rebecca, a young maid.
“There is someone here to see you, ma'am,” Rebecca said. “I had him wait in the drawing room.”
The sparse servants at Agatha's humble abode were unaccustomed to receiving visitors. The only regular visitor was Lord Rocksavage, who was on such familiar terms with Molly that he had a tendency to barge in. If Rebecca was announcing the arrival of a visitor, it could only mean one thing.
“Is it... Mr. Crawford?” The hammering of Molly's heart was a telltale sign of eagerness. She definitely wanted to see him again.
“Yes. A Mr. Julian Crawford,” Rebecca softly reported. “Shall I take you to him, ma'am?”
“Is he in the drawing room?”
Rebecca bobbed her crown of ginger hair. “Indeed.”
“Then I will go to him. Thank you, Rebecca.”
As she flew down the hallway, Molly's shoulders felt lighter than air. To anticipate another man's company as much as she anticipated Lord Rocksavage's was a strange feeling. When she reached the drawing room, she closed her eyes and drew a breath.
“Be calm, Molly,” she coached herself. “Mr. Crawford would not be interested in you if you were an addled halfwit. Be calm.”
As soon as she opened the door, Mr. Crawford rose from the settee. He was simply dressed, in brown buckskins and an unassuming coat. His hair was a bit more combed than usual, but his eyes were tired, as if he had been lacking sleep.
“Miss Moseley.” His voice was ragged when he uttered her name.
“Good day, Mr. Crawford. What a pleasure to see you again!” Molly crossed the room and sat in a chair across from the settee. Her gaze flickered to Rebecca, who was hovering in the doorway. “Rebecca, would you mind fetching some tea?”
“Not at all, ma'am.” With a slight curtsy, Rebecca fled from the room and went to fulfill her mistress' request.
“Should we be alone?” Julian asked.
“Are you worried about propriety, Mr. Crawford?” Molly asked. “Believe me, we have nothing to fear. I am thirty years old, not a fresh-faced young miss. Concern for my reputation is a thing of the past.”
“You look very young to me. Perhaps because I am so old?”
“Please, Mr. Crawford... you make yourself sound ancient!” Molly simultaneously crossed her arms and shook her head. “You are hardly what I would call old.”
“I... well... you...” Julian folded his hands in his lap and grumbled. “Ahem.”
“Is there something you wanted to say?”
“I... well...” His hesitation continued. “Perhaps the reason I am still unmarried is because I am a bit... gruff. I am not skilled in the art of wooing. I have no idea how to flirt.”
“We do not need to flirt, Mr. Crawford,” Molly assured him. “A pleasant conversation would suffice.”
Julian shook his head. “At the very least, I should have brought you a gift.”
“It is fine,” Molly insisted. “I am happy to have your company. I do not need gifts.”
Rebecca returned with their tea and set the tray on a nearby table. When Molly went to pour the tea, Julian's gaze hovered on her decolletage. Her neckline was modest enough, but a portion of her milky neck and shoulders were exposed. The sight of her bare skin had him moaning inwardly. If she moved closer, he would have loved to inhale her.
“Here is your tea, Mr. Crawford,” Molly said.
“Hm?”
“Your tea,” she repeated, extending the cup toward him. “I poured you a cup of tea.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Miss Moseley.” He raised the cup to his lips and closed his eyes, letting the heat soak his face. He hoped the steam would invigorate him. At the moment, he had yet to make a good impression.
“How is Miss Crawford?” Molly asked.
“My niece? She seems very happy.”
“Does she?” Molly poured herself a cup of tea and returned to her chair. After taking a sip, she added, “I am sure Lord Rocksavage might have something to do with her happiness?”
“I am sure you are right.”
“And what about her mother? Is she still unwell?”
“She is... improving.” When his eyes fell on her mouth, Julian's voice trailed off. “Miss Moseley, you need to know how pretty you are.”
“Pretty?!” Molly repeated the word skeptically, as if she had not heard him correctly. “Was that a compliment?”
“I believe it was.”
Molly thought she saw his teacup shaking, and she wondered if he was nervous. She did not think a strong, stoic man like Julian Crawford could possibly lack for confidence, but it was somewhat endearing.
“In that case, you have my gratitude. If I am not mistaken, that might be the first compliment I have ever received.”
“Are you serious?!”
“Very serious,” Moll
y said with a nod. “No one has ever said I am pretty, or anything of the sort.”
“If what you say is true, then it is an affront against nature! As pretty as you are, you should be paid countless compliments every single day.”
Molly took another sip of her tea and said, “Well... it is not entirely accurate to say I have never been complimented. I have been called kind, clever, wise... but never pretty.”
“You are a very handsome woman,” Julian went on. “Beautiful, in fact.”
“Now that is going a bit too far!” Molly followed up her comment with a chuckle. “But I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“You are also kind, clever and wise,” he agreed. His teacup was no longer shaking, but his neck was turning red. Fortunately, most of his flushed skin was shielded by his cravat. “I was drawn to you from the moment we met.”
“Really?” One of Molly's thick eyebrows was skeptically raised. “You were so quiet, I assumed you thought I was barely tolerable!”
“I am shy, self-conscious, cautious... whatever you would like to call it, that is what I am. My lack of social skills is particularly visible when I am in the presence of a woman who fascinates me.”
“I hadn't the slightest idea!” Molly exclaimed. “You really think I am fascinating?”
“Very.” Julian drained his last drop of tea and set the cup aside. Then he folded his arms, which hid his still-trembling hands from view.
“Well, you are a very intriguing man, Mr. Crawford.” Turning her gaze to the window, she added, “And you are certainly handsome.”
“Am I?!”
“Indeed,” she asserted. “Your good looks, needless to say, are a bit more obvious than mine. I am sure anyone would agree with me.”
All of a sudden, the door to the drawing room opened. When she saw Lord Rocksavage standing in the doorway, Molly nearly dropped her teacup.
“Daniel!” she exclaimed. Molly was not surprised that he would enter unannounced, but Julian looked puzzled. “Daniel, what are you doing here?!”
“I came to visit you... as I often do.” Daniel held his hands behind his back as he stepped into the drawing room. When he realized she was alone with Julian Crawford, his eyes were ignited by mistrust. “I apologize for entering so... unceremoniously. I did not realize you would have company.”
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