Page 35 of Dare it all for Love

Florence pondered this. “He makes me nervous.”

Grace let out a huff of laughter. “Yes, I know what you mean. He does always look like he’s about to bite your head off. Though….”

“Though?” Florence pressed, curious.

“Oh, I don’t know. Only that he reminds me of Papa.”

“Not really?” Florence exclaimed, appalled. “Your father is an absolute sweetheart.”

Grace smiled, a wistful expression crossing her face. “He is, isn’t he? But that’s because you know him well, Flo. He’s dreadfully fierce with strangers. Mama is always telling him off for it.”

“I’ve never noticed that,” Florence replied.

“Well, he doesn’t really socialise outside of the village, and all the same people your family are friends with, so you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me you think Mr Oak is all soft and melty beneath that gruff exterior?”

Grace sent her an appalled glance. “Good Lord, no. What an idea. Only that perhaps he does not realise how intimidating he is, and that he needs someone to show him life need not be quite such a serious ordeal.”

“Ah, Grace,” Florence said, giving her friend a swift hug. “How good you are.”

Grace made a rather bitter sound which was so out of character Florence’s heart ached.

“Not so good as all that,” she said with a twisted smile, and walked on.

Florence followed behind and they carried on along the path. A trickle of perspiration slid down Florence’s back and she took her fan from her pocket, trying to stir the heavy air to a breeze. They were in full sun here and it was becoming intolerable. How she longed to cast off her corset and stockings. Ahead of her, Grace raised a hand to her head and swayed.

“Grace!” Florence exclaimed, hurrying to catch her up and slide an arm about her waist.

“I’m well. Don’t fret so,” Grace said, her expression pinched. “I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

“Did you not eat any breakfast again?”

Grace shook her head. “I can’t eat first thing. It just makes me sick.”

“Well, let’s get you inside, into the cool. It’s far too hot out here. It’s making me feel cross, and that’s a dangerous thing, as you know.”

Grace laughed obligingly and Florence guided her into the shade. Feeling eyes upon her she turned to see Mr Oak watching them. A prickle of alarm ran over her, and she turned her back on him with something like defiance, returning Grace to the house as fast as was possible.

Henry did his best to be an entertaining host, but the afternoon seemed interminable. He’d woken with a hangover, and cracking his skull on the cobbles had hardly helped. His head throbbed like the very devil and, as fond as he was of most of his guests, he could wish them elsewhere.

Except for Florence, drat her.

What was he to do about Florence Knight? He could no longer pretend there was nothing between them. Hell, he didn’t want to pretend. Though he still felt certain he was a poor choice for her, she wanted him. Heaven knew why, for there were surely far younger and more eligible men than he who must be falling over themselves for her attention. He’d not even been kind or nice to her, yet she persisted in seeing beyond his idiotic behaviour. He could not fathom why, but she saw him, understood him, with no need for Henry to explain himself.

It was strange, wonderful, and terrifying. Yet he could not make himself stay away from her. He wanted her and, if she persisted in seeking him out, eventually he would be forced to offer for her to atone for some reprehensible behaviour on his part. Then, of course, Gabriel would tear him limb from limb. So, perhaps he ought to just give into the inevitable and marry her.

Marrying her would not be so bad. It would satisfy Harriet, for one, and stop this ridiculous matchmaking. Then Florence could live here, at the Hall. She would give him children and create a home for them. The idea filled him with equal parts warmth and panic. Well, he need not be here all the time. Once she was settled, he could go travelling again. Jasper would keep an eye on her and any children, and they’d be well provided for, and… and that way he could keep some distance between them. Not just geographically, but with this feeling she evoked inside him, the strange, aching need to be with her all the time, every second. If he spent some of his time away, that peculiar urgency to be in her company would dissipate, and things need not become too….

“… around the house?”

He blinked, aware that he’d not been attending the conversation at all.

“Your guests would like the tour of the house you promised them, Henry,” his sister repeated with a touch of impatience. She’d clearly been speaking to herself for some time.

“Oh, of course. My pleasure,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Oh, no. I think I shall retire to the parlour, if you don’t mind me being a bother, Mr Stanhope. That nasty doll and all the goings on…. Oh, I shall never sleep again, I’m sure.” Miss Dudley fanned herself vigorously, shaking her head with distress.