“Mercy hates to be taken in the carriage.”
So much for that attempted line of conversation. She tried something else. “Did I tell you I finally received another letter from Eliza, this one from Ravenswood?”
“No.”
She continued, even though he hadn’t sounded the least interested. “Lord Neville has come to visit and is making a nuisance of himself…”
Nothing.
“…I don’t know why Neville feels he has to bother Millie. No one else ever complains about her behavior. She could be considered somewhat outspoken, I suppose. But he treats her as if she were outrageous, and—”
“Ishe bothering Millie? Or is the problem the Wainwright ladies, who all appear to delight in creating turmoil?”
“Harbury!” She scowled. “What an unkind thing to say.” She cast her own gaze out the window. “Unkindandunfair.”
He exhaled harshly. “Just so. I must beg your pardon.” He paused. “Again.”
She glanced askance. “Why did your ‘apology’ just make me feel worse?”
Finally, his troubled gaze met hers. “Truthfully? I’m dreading this visit.”
At least he’d told hersomething.“I thought the Wexfords were old family friends.”
“They are.”
“Well, what more can you tell me about them?”
“An older couple. Longtime friends of my parents.” He hesitated. “I expect they are eager to make your acquaintance.”
“But you aren’t eager for me to make theirs?”
He remained silent.
“Harbury…” She placed her palms against her knees. “Do I embarrass you?”
He closed his eyes. His purse lips suggested an inner battle. Then, without looking, he grasped her hand and raised her fingers to his lips.
Her heart squeezed as he held his mouth against her knuckles for far longer than a simple kiss would have warranted. When he returned his own to his lap, he kept hold of hers, apparently inordinately interested in the row of embroidered flowers decorating the edge of her glove.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “Never. Have I ever given you reason to believe such a thing?”
“You must realize you’ve been acting strangely of late. Especially whenever we discuss the estate.”
“You’re right.” His hand tightened over hers. “I don’t wish to let Anderson go, but I’m starting to see I have little choice. Do you understand what forcing him out of not only his position, but his home will mean for him?”
“He wouldn’thaveto leave Rose Cottage.”
“He’s a man of deep pride. He would not stay if he were not employed, especially if he were forced from his post.”
“What of his daughter?”
Warily, he held her gaze.
“Perhaps she would be willing to take him in?” She shifted. Their knees bumped. “Perhaps you can write to her.”
“Perhaps,” he echoed, looking exceedingly bleak.
She squeezed his hand reassuringly as the coachman called out to the horses, and the carriage rolled to a stop. Her fear the Wexfords would find fault with her was not realized, and the older couple welcomed them into their home with delight.
