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“No.”
The word couldn’t have sounded bleak. He must have imagined it. Or the thought of her grandfather disheartened her. He could sympathize with that.
She led him inside and along a corridor to a room with a large desk. Mr. Winstead sat there, surrounded by documents. He looked up when they entered, like an ill-tempered spider at the center of a vast web.
“Grandfather, we have come to tell you that we are engaged to be married,” said Miss Finch.
The old man’s habitual glower faded slowly into a grin, like a rarely used piece of machinery grinding into motion. “Ha.” He stood. “Good for you, girl.”
He spoke to her as if she was a servant who’d done well at her assigned task. Jack didn’t like it.
Winstead rubbed his hands together. “Countess of Ferrington,” he muttered. “And my great-grandson will be an earl. By God, he will.”
He had no thought of wishing anyone happiness, Jack observed. Actually, he doubted the old man understood the meaning of the word.
“I’ll tell the vicar to post the banns,” Winstead added.
Not caring to be chivvied about, Jack said, “You’re quick off the mark.”
“You have some objection?” The grin was gone, replaced by the glower of suspicion that was Mr. Winstead’s natural expression.
Jack had a few. At some point, he would have to show this old curmudgeon that he was not in charge. But this was not the moment. Jack was ready to marry Miss Finch tomorrow, had that been possible. “No,” he said.
There was a tug on Jack’s sleeve. Looking down, he gathered that Miss Finch—Harriet—wished to go. He certainly had no objection tothat. Leaving Winstead to his gloating, he followed her into the corridor and along it to the front entry of the house. They could go back to the garden now and resume their vastly more pleasant activities.
She stopped beside the door, however. “Thank you for coming,” she said, opening it and waiting.
As if he’d paid a morning call, and not a particularly welcome one. “Miss…Harriet, is all well?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
This sounded like a challenge or a riddle he should be able to solve. Which was ridiculous. He was imagining things.
“I must go and inform Mama,” she said.
That made sense. “Shall I come with you?” And then they could return to the garden.
“No.”
Jack had never proposed marriage before, so he couldn’t be certain. But this didn’t feel like the aftermath of a joyous agreement. “I’m glad you’ve forgiven me for…withholding a bit of the truth.”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am.” What was the matter with her? “And gladder still that there is no need for secrets anymore.”
“Until the next time you decide there’s something I mustn’t know?” she asked.
“That will never happen again,” Jack assured her.
“I count on that,” Harriet replied. She gestured at the open door, and before he quite knew what was happening, Jack found himself outside with the panels closing on his heels.
Ten
Harriet had left orders that she should be told as soon as her mother awoke, and so she was summoned to her bedchamber later that afternoon. Mama was still lying down, dazed from the dose she’d taken, but she brightened when given the news of Harriet’s engagement.
“You’re not joking?” she asked, sitting up against her pillows.
“No.” Nothing could be further from a joke, Harriet thought.
