Page 41 of Yielding to Love

“She is. The laundress comes today, and she is gathering what needs to be washed.”

Crispin hmmm’d. His breakfast could wait.

Adam gave him a long look. Then he said, “Mrs. Clay is a gossip.”

That was blunt. Crispin sat down at the table and leaned on his elbows. “Is she?”

“I do not intend to make it a habit to speak about my employers.”

“No, I wouldn’t think it of you. But is there something necessary for me to know?” It was too bad Adam wasn’t a spy. He would make a fine one.

“Not ‘necessary.’” Adam laid down his knife and fork. “But possibly helpful.”

“Go on.”

“Mr. Castor tried to woo Miss Harrington.”

Bile rose in his throat. “Did he?”

“Mrs. Clay said he put little effort into it. He told the old gentleman, Mr. Harrington, that there was no point in a long courtship. They knew each other well enough from church.”

“He wooed her with his sermons, eh?” Crispin’s dislike of the man grew exponentially.

“Mrs. Clay overheard the proposal. I suspect she had her ear to the door.”

Crispin snorted. Servants knew everything.

Adam’s expression turned thoughtful. “She said he became angry. He told Miss Harrington he’d asked her only as a kindness because no one else would have her. And that marriage to him would make her more acceptable to the parish.”

A kindness? What the devil was that supposed to mean? “More acceptable?”

“He told her people say that she looks like a witch. They don’t like to be near her.”

Crispin stared. No reasonable person believed in witches. “Why? You can’t mean because of her hair?”

Adam nodded. “I suspect even if they said such things, they said it in fun.”

It wasn’t funny. “But she’s a beautiful woman.” The yellow dress had darkened her soulful eyes. And it had revealed, in a way her black ones did not, that she had a shape. A very appealing shape.

Adam cocked his head to one side and regarded him. “She’s pretty. Yes.”

Crispin’s chest felt tight. “How did Miss Harrington fare after this insulting proposal?”

Adam sniffed. “Mrs. Clay said that she laughed. She thanked him for his consideration, but her answer was still no.”

She hid her hurt well.

“I should not have said anything,” Adam continued, “but I thought it might explain the atmosphere last evening.”

“Castor holds a grudge and Mrs. Castor is jealous.”

“That was my thought.”

Mrs. Clay bustled into the kitchen. “Oh! Major. Good morning. Have you anything to send to the laundress?”

It startled a laugh from him. “I just got here!”

“Well, but who knows where you came from.”