“Possibly not,” Daisy said.
“I suppose they will all be sizing up their chances. Your father is out of the way and a dowry is dangling in front of them, and an inheritance from your grandmother too, if I am not mistaken. They will take a run at the place and try their luck.”
“I do not doubt it,” Daisy said. “Though my father was happy to carouse with them, they all knew very well he would not countenance a more permanent connection. They may think all difficulties have been removed, they are just that odious and vile. What they fail to comprehend is that I would not countenance a one of them if I were starving and penniless. Throwing myself into the sea would be a preferable fate.”
“Throwing yourself into the sea? No need to reachthoseheights of drama, Miss Danworth,” Lord Dalton said, serving himself a generous portion of beef.
Daisy tightened her hand on her fork. “If you think I am exaggerating, you do not know what I have seen of these men.”
“No, perhaps I do not,” Lord Dalton admitted. “If you approve, I will hire a few watchmen for the house. They may turn these fellows round at the bottom of the drive. You are welcome to interview them yourself if you like, but men in that line of work are not…”
“Yes, of course, you must see to it, thank you,” Daisy said. She had no wish to interview the rough sort of men who would not mind throwing people from a property, nor would she know what to ask them if she did.
“I’m finding the weather unaccountably cool for the season,” Mrs. Jellops said loudly.
Daisy suppressed a smile. Lord Dalton’s eyebrows only raised slightly. The conversation and the events at this particular dinner had veered far from usual, and Mrs. Jellops had apparently decided it was high time to return to more regular subjects.
Chapter Four
Belle Minkerton readied herself to go downstairs. As a usual thing, such an operation did not take overlong. She never could comprehend how some of her friends took an hour deciding on a dress to wear or what bonnet to pair with it. She was generally in a decisive state of mind and did not wobble all over the place in her thinking.
Just now, though, shedidfeel a bit wobbly. She’d harbored some hopes, the sort of hopes one did not dare share with anyone, and those hopes had been dashed.
Dear Harry Dale, or Lord Burke as he was called in wider society, was in love with another.
Oh, she knew she should never have allowed hope to grow in the first place. Harry quite looked upon her as a younger sister. They’d known each other for years and he’d teased her, and shown her how things were done, and even scolded sometimes, just as a brother would.
But still, she had hoped. She had grown an inch this past year and filled out, she thought. She was still on the slight side of things, but she was certain she looked more womanly. She was to be out next season, and did that not mean she was full grown? And then, Harry was to stay with them all summer. Might he not notice this change? Might he not begin to view her in a different light?
What an imagination she had! The true state of things had been forced upon her last evening. Harry had talked endlessly of Miss Daisy Danworth. Miss Danworth was said to have just lost her father. Miss Danworth was a lady anybody might wish to be acquainted with. Miss Danworth would be a fine companion for Miss Minkerton.
Worst of all, Miss Danworth was staying not a mile down the road. Though she was in mourning, they should invite Miss Danworth to a small dinner.
Inviting a lady in mourning to dinner? Did that not suggest some sort of intimacy? Oh, Harry had pressed on with the idea. Miss Danworth’s father had been rumored to be unpleasant and so it was likely that Miss Danworth was not terribly grief-stricken.
He seemed to know an awful lot about the lady!
Still not quite wishing to believe the end of her hopes was in sight, Belle had asked Harry what she looked like. Harry had taken his time answering, then said, “She is rather renowned for her blond curls.”
Blond curls! Now she was forced to understand that Harry preferred blond curls!
Belle’s maid, Peg, had arranged absolutely everything that could be done. Now, she stood staring at her mistress and said, “Shall you go down, Miss?”
Belle rose and shook out her skirts. “Never mind me, Peg. I am just being stupid this morning.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Charles spent a somewhat more comfortable night in the cottage. He was at least not rained on and the vinegar and lavender that Tate had so liberally doused the place with had driven off a good amount of the insects. Not all of them, though, as he’d woken to a large brown spider leisurely strolling across his bedclothes. No sooner had he noted the spider, than a cat leapt onto the bed and caught it.
The cat took its prey to a windowsill, making short work of the unfortunate spider. It then stared defiantly at him with one spider’s leg hanging from its mouth.
“Get out,” he said. “Go on, get out of here.”
He was not even sure how the cat had got in, other than to surmise that the cottage was so badly built that anything wishing to come indoors might find a way.
The cat chewed up the last of the spider, but remained unmoved by his directive. She was a tabby and clearly not a favored houseguest of anybody’s home. Her ribs showed, some of her fur was matted, and she had a look about her of hard living.
Charles sighed, got out of bed, and gave the cat a roll from his last night’s tray. The cat was not skittish, she did not run from him until she’d got a firm hold of the bread. She took her breakfast, glared at him as if she suspected he might attempt to take it back, and stole away with it under his bed.
