Page 20 of An Unwitting Alliance
This elicited a second groan from Cassandra, one much harder to stifle.
Mr. Harwood, however, grinned with the opportunity to share about himself. “For starters, I never want to compare your siblings to a brood of dogs again.”
“You didn’t!” Megan laughed. “I’m sorry I missed that.”
Cassandra laid her hand on Megan’s, lest her sister encourage the man any further. “Why don’t you ask mother to play Handel for us.”
It was Megan’s turn to groan. “Why not you? I want to speak with Mr. Harwood.”
“Go ahead, Megan.” Cassandra implored Megan with her eyes, begging her to obey.
Megan huffed but stood and crossed the room.
“You are quite adept at getting us alone, Miss Vail. I am impressed.” Mr. Harwood spread his arm across the back of the settee. “You are a fickle woman, claiming you do not want to marry me yet so eager to have me to yourself.”
A wave of heat flushed her cheeks. She had only been... she had only wanted... She gritted her teeth.“That was not my intention. I mean, it was my intention, but not in the way you insinuate.”
“What am I insinuating?”
“That I... that we...” He had trapped her in her own words and managed to fluster her all over again. “Mr. Harwood, I merely wanted to tell you that I see through your friendly little act, and I do not want you tricking my sister into liking you.”
Mr. Harwood seemed amused by this. His impertinence defied everything. “I am generally well-liked, Miss Vail. I cannot help being myself or if your sister is fond of my nature.”
The soft sounds of Handel’s “Sarabande” poured into the room, but the relaxing tune did little to soften Cassandra’s annoyance. “Well,Idon’t like you,” she hissed. Megan returned to her side and Cassandra stood. “Good night, Mr. Harwood. Come, Megan.”
Megan protested, but Cassandra’s attention snagged on Mr. Harwood’s chuckle and the way his gaze chased after her. Why was he not put off by her words or her premature good night? Why did he look... intrigued? It would take a miracle to convince him to relinquish their betrothal, but she could not give up hope. A marriage between them would be a complete disaster. The sooner he gave up on her and went home, the better.
Chapter 7
Tom had retired early witha case of indigestion. The Vails’ cook was subpar at best. He dreaded eating again at their table. Before he had gone to bed, Mrs. Vail had apologized that her eldest daughters had accepted a previous engagement to a sewing club with some of the local ladies and would not be around to entertain him come morning. Tom assured her that he would take the opportunity to ride Zeus. Time away from his peppery betrothed suited him perfectly. His teasing hadn’t softened her, nor had his flirtations won her to his side. She was impossible to crack.
Thankfully, his valet had arrived with his trunk just before dinner. There had been some issue about where Joseph would sleep, but in the end, they had found him a shared room belowstairs with Samuel, who was both a stablehand and a footman. Tom was quickly learning the inner workings of the house. The Vails, it seemed, were quite open with strangers.
Once he was settled in his bed, Tom pulled two letters off his nightstand. One had arrived for him just after dinner, and the second had been sent with him from his mother. She had strictly instructed him not to open it until after his arrival. He was tempted not to read it at all. It was surely a lecture on fulfilling his duty.
He set his mother’s letter aside and opened the first one. It was from Miles. If Mr. Romantic had any advice, Tom trusted it over a Matchmaking Mama’s.
Tom—
After you left, I received a missive from an old school friend, a Mr. Miner, who coincidentally is the vicar in Airewell. He wrote inquiring for ideas in handling the mismanagement of the town workhouse. He is quite certain there is a misuse of parish funds, but he cannot prove it. The overseer is granted a great deal of freedom from their rector, Mr. Bartholomew, who delegates the tithes. Mr. Miner fears many are suffering under the hands of the overseer and is desperate since there are a number of children at risk.
If my father were not doing so poorly, I would come myself. I know your hands are full, but might you look into the situation for me? Mr. Miner is a good man, and he would not request aid unless the need were dire. Write to me if you run into any trouble—with the workhouse or with your betrothal. The Rebels will find a way to come.
Tom scratched his jaw. Of course he would help with the workhouse. All the Rebels were sensitive to the plight of children. The Rebels were practically children themselves when they had founded their society, and they had longed to have their voices heard. Even though Tom tended to avoid the little innocents since they often brought memories of Charley to his mind, anyone hurt or vulnerable brought out a fierce protective desire in him. Perhaps it was because he could not fix himself that he longed to help others. And, conveniently enough, he had a free morning to ride to see the workhouse first thing.
Reluctantly, he pulled the second letter to him. Despite his misgivings, he found himself breaking the familiar seal. He leaned closer to the lamplight and read:
My Dear Tom,
You have no doubt discovered Miss Vail is indeed Miss Smith, your elusive acquaintance from Lady Kellen’s ball. I hope the shock you received was quickly replaced with relief and perhaps some excitement at the prospect of marrying someone who has already caught your interest.
When I saw you dance together at the ball, I could not forget it. The two of you had sparks in your eyes. And when I saw how devastated you were to have her hurt and upset, I knew your heart had been pricked.
His mother had known all along and yet had evaded him when he had sought the identity of Miss Smith? He could hardly fathom it. “Shame on you, Mama,” he grumbled. And how on earth had she seen Tom’s attraction during one dance? He had told no one of his feelings. And he certainly would not qualify sparks as reason enough for matrimony. He pulled his attention to the rest of the letter.
Your father and I had such hopes for our boys, but with Charley gone, money and station do not matter to us like your happiness does. It might take time for you to come around to the idea of this engagement, dear. But we did this for you and for you alone. Don’t make a mess of it. Love has many languages, but sarcasm is not one of them. Be serious for once in your life so Miss Vail might realize the treasure she is now tied to.
I know children, even grown ones, often do not abide by what their parents tell them, and since I cannot be there to smooth the way, I have gathered a list of advice from my friends, the matrons in the community. They know a thing or two about love and relationships, and I pray you will heed their words.
