Page 53 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

“I have not given any consideration to when I will return,” he said, somewhat slowly.

“But you are going back.” Rebecca’s statement was firm, and he saw her hand tighten over her husband’s. “You must see the thing through.”

Doubtful, Harry turned his attention to Christian. The earl was studying Rebecca, his eyebrows drawn together. “You are thinking of our first misunderstanding,” the man said to his wife.

For a moment Harry felt as though he ought to leave, given the intimacy with which his sister stared into her husband’s eyes. “Nothing had ever given me more pain than when I thought you did not want me.”

Harry had been there when they fell in love, had watched it happen day by day, and he suddenly remembered what they were talking about. Rebecca had doubted that Christian wished to marry her, had thought he would dishonor their agreement and leave her reputation ruined, or that he would wed her and never give her the love of which she dreamt.

And he, her little brother, had been the one to say she must tell Christian the truth of all she felt. He’d been young, not even at university yet, inexperienced and hopeful for her.

“It isn’t the same,” Harry blurted into the quiet, bringing their attention back to him. “Not at all.”

“Not exactly,” Christian corrected. “But it is a betrayal of trust.”

“Perhaps you are right, Harry.” Rebecca spoke quickly, before Harry could do more than glare at Christian. “Perhaps she does not trust you and never did. But please, won’t you consider the situation she is in? Men may prattle on about honor all the day long, but it is the woman who must guard against betrayal the most. If Miss Ames entered into an agreement with you, only to find you a villain, she would have ruined her life almost beyond repair. A broken engagement would end her chances at another advantageous match. It would put an end to her dream to teach. What parent would have her instruct their daughters? Marriage to a man without honor would be equally miserable.”

Rebecca leveraged herself off the couch again, Christian standing with her this time to steady her as she tottered on her heels.

Harry sensed the conversation coming to a close, and he did not like the way it would end. “I never gave her cause to believe me anything less than a gentleman.”

“Our father was a gentleman,” Rebecca said quietly, “and a snake. Only those who knew him well, who saw the decisions he made leading to unhappiness, knew he could not be trusted. To the rest of the world, he appeared like the best of men. Miss Ames has known you a short time. You could easily present a good face to her and another to the rest of the world.” She took her husband’s arm.

“You wish me to leave?” Harry asked, ignoring the truth in her words. He loved Daisy, had fallen in love with her rapidly, completely—

Yet how well did she know him?

“Of course not,” Rebecca said. “I wish you to think about how you will return and finish what you have begun. If you will both excuse me, I need to prepare for dinner.” She did not curtsy and went from the room with less than her usual grace.

Christian watched her leave, and Harry watched Christian.

“She is right, of course.” Christian smirked, speaking more to himself than to Harry. “She almost always is.”

Harry said nothing, but collapsed into a nearby chair and dropped his head into his hands. “I need to think.”

“Take all the time you need, Harry. Matters of the heart should not be rushed.” Christian walked out, leaving Harry to the silence of his thoughts.

Chapter Twenty-two

Daisy would meet the girls of the village in an upstairs room above the seamstress shop. All was arranged. The rent already paid to Mrs. Chandler, the lessons organized, and Daisy had but to wait until January to begin teaching. Even the skeptical families had agreed that sending their daughters to her three mornings of the week could not hurt. It was a start, and a good one at that.

Daisy sat at her desk in the upstairs sitting room, considering the neat notes in the book before her, all her dreams coming together nicely. The local gentlewomen had offered funds and things necessary for teaching children, including books and supplies from their own children’s school days. The support had largely been won by the countess’s influence, which had come through Christine and Harry’s connection.

What is Harry doing now, I wonder? Where did he go? And, more importantly, would he come back?

The door to her upstairs parlor opened and in came Katie, her eyes almost comically large. “Mrs. Gilbert here to see you—”

Christine Gilbert sailed in before the maid had finished speaking. “Miss Ames, I cannot keep silent any longer and you will see me.”

The maid looked from Daisy to Mrs. Gilbert and back, her mouth hanging open.

Daisy came to her feet. “Thank you, Katie. That will be all.” After the girl curtsied and shut the door, Daisy fully faced her neighbor. “What might I do for you, Mrs. Gilbert?” At least she kept her voice steady.

“You can tell me what you did to Harry.” Mrs. Gilbert reached into her reticule and pulled forth a folded sheet of paper. “This is a letter from my sister. She has had the full story from Harry and I mean to know what you are going to do about it.”

Not exactly prepared for a confrontation, Daisy tried to hedge the question. “Do about it, Mrs. Gilbert?”

The woman sat down without waiting to be asked, the letter clutched in her hand. Her dark brown eyes blazed with fury. “My brother, Miss Ames. You have injured him.”