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“And your lengthy resistance to any marriage at all.”
“And that,” he agreed, smiling at her.
Jack had decided it was no use trying to understand all the nuances of the Terefords’ conversation. They practically had a language of their own. “Will people say I married Miss Finch for her money?” he asked. He didn’t like that idea.
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.” The duke shrugged. “It’s not as if you were a penniless fortune hunter.”
He’d forgotten. He was an earl. With a great estate. His acceptance of that fact had changed everything, particularly regarding Harriet’s grandfather.
“I can recommend someone if you like,” said the duke.
“What?” Jack hadn’t been listening.
“To help with the settlements, the marriage contract.”
“Contract?” Jack knew about legal agreements. He ran a business, after all. But he’d never thought of marriage in those terms.
“Families with large estates must make a variety of arrangements,” explained the other man.
“Did you do so?” Jack looked from one to the other. The Terefords were obviously in love. The story of their engagement was probably crammed with romance. Yet the duke spoke of contracts without constraint.
“Oh yes,” was the reply.
“I suppose I’d better consult with your fellow then.”
The duke nodded.
“I expect Harriet’s mother will be moving with her,” said the duchess.
“Moving?”
“Here to Ferrington Hall. It would be cruel to leave her behind. Mrs. Finch finds living with her father quite trying.”
Jack could see that. Winstead was no charmer. But he hadn’t counted on a resident mother-in-law.
“You don’t mind?” asked the duchess.
Mrs. Finch seemed all right, if a bit limp and weepy. “Whatever Harriet wants,” said Jack.
“Umm,” she replied.
How could one word—not even a word, really, more of a hum—convey skepticism and concern and sympathy? And what was the need for these things? Jack gazed at the gravy congealing on his dinner plate and thought how much he needed to see Harriet again. Some…things needed to be clearer. And he should make those pretty speeches he hadn’t yet composed. He considered asking the duke for advice about that. And decided against it. Tereford wouldn’t laugh out loud, but his amusement would be all too apparent, nonetheless. As for the duchess… Jack suppressed a shudder.
***
One advantage of being an engaged man was he could call at Winstead Hall whenever he pleased, Jack decided. And so he set off the next morning to walk through the woods, determined to sit down with Harriet and thrash everything out.
Before he was halfway there, however, a mob of children swept out of the trees, shouting and laughing, leaping over sprigs of bracken, and waving sticks as if they were swords. Jack paused to enjoy their sheer, exuberant joy. But as soon as they spotted him, the gang stopped short, lowering their mock weapons to stare. The tiny, dark-haired, and bright-eyed ringleader put her hands on her hips.
“Hello, Samia,” said Jack.
“Hullo, uh…Mr. Earl.”
“I’m still just Jack.”
“No. Mistress Elena said I was to call you…” The little girl frowned in concentration. “My lord, it was.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
