Page 52 of Winterset
“How unfortunate,” I said.
“Indeed.”
We passed another pretty pair, and again, Lord Markham did not slow, only tipped his head in a hasty salutation. “The chit is lovely, but her family is unsuitable. You undoubtedly heard alleightof her unruly younger brothers and sisters during the service.”
I had not heard them, actually, but even if I had, I would not have minded. Having grown up in a small family and often feeling alone, I was a bit enamored by the thought of one day having a larger family. I hoped to make the family’s acquaintance in the near future.
Finally, about halfway down the gravel walk to the gate, we stopped near a fashionably dressed family.
“Good day, Lord Markham,” the gentleman greeted Markham.
“And to you, sir,” he said, then turned to me. “Mr. Jennings, allow me to introduce to you Mr. Dalton, Mrs. Dalton, and their lovely daughter,MissDalton.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Jennings,” Mr. Dalton said, doffing his hat in greeting.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I said to him.
“How long are you in town?” Mrs. Dalton asked, taking my measure. I hoped the expensive cut of my coat and the intricate knot of my cravat would impress her. My hat certainly would not.
“Indefinitely, madam,” I said.
“I should have said sooner,” Lord Markham cut in. “Mr. Jennings is the son of the late Earl of Winfield. He is the Winterset heir. Our new neighbor.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Dalton’s demeanor brightened. “We heard you had arrived. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mr. Dalton chuckled. “I daresay this news will make many mothers here quite happy.”
“I believe what my husbandmeantto say”—Mrs. Dalton eyed her husband with censure before turning back to me with a smile—“is that everyone will be glad for the opportunity to make the acquaintance of such a fine gentleman.” She looked at her daughter. “Don’t you agree, Hyacinth?”
“I do, Mother.” She smiled up at me through her lashes. “Quiteglad.”
“Had I known howlovelyit is here, I might have been persuaded to come sooner,” I said, still looking at Hyacinth.
Miss Dalton’s cheeks pinked prettily.
“And did you enjoy the service today, Mr. Jennings?” Mrs. Dalton asked, reclaiming my attention.
I chose my next words carefully, wanting to be honest but not unkind. “The vicar’s sermon was ... thorough.”
“Indeed.” She grinned, and I felt like I’d passed a test.
A sudden autumn gust caught Miss Dalton’s bonnet and blew it across the courtyard.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, watching it tumble away.
“Allow me.” I went after it, but the hat kept tumbling. A gravestone finally stopped it, and I braced one hand on the lichen-covered stone to steady myself before I bent to retrieve the bonnet. As I did, I glanced at the epitaph, half expecting to read Katherine Lockwood’s name. It seemed plausible she would haunt me even here. But it wasn’t hers, so I grabbed the bonnet and stood.
“That was quite a chase,” Miss Dalton called, catching up to me. “Thank you.”
“Happy to be of service.” I gave her the bonnet.
She placed it back upon her head and, feigning innocence, looked up at me. “Would you mind?” She held out the ribbons.
“You wish formeto tie the bow?” I blinked. She must know how improper it would be for me to help her in such a way.
“I would do it myself, but it is so difficult without a looking glass. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I ... haven’t much practice in bow tying,” I excused.
