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Mercy, spoken so very bluntly. And how was it, after traipsing the floor for minutes, the sprite wasn’t even out of breath? “Earlier this year. Why?”
“Well, it is no wonder he arrived late. And missed Sir Gala—” Said with only a single snuffle, quickly squelched. “And everything else. With him newly returned home and all, how could he be at all at ease yet—around others?
“Eating and the like. It cannot be easy, being awkward about things. And then to draw everyone’s attention as well? Not only because he is returned home from war but because he is the new lord? And because you also return maimed?” Harri tapped her temple with one finger. “Why, any sane fellow would desire to avoid that. He deserves our compassion not your censure.”
“Who says I was censorious?” You know you were. And forget not, he’s a third son, no less; ergo, not at all prepared for the responsibilities now heaped upon him.
“Anyone within five feet of us, Merry.”
Damn. Mr. Edwards’ favored curse came quickly to her mind. “You are more perceptive than I wish.”
Harriet just grinned. “Does that mean I can start wearing your perfume? The new sweet-water Papa brought back from London?”
“No.” As Mama had told Harri time and again, she could wear scent when she turned fifteen and not a day before. “Do not lodge me in the middle, betwixt you and Mother. Besides, did not Papa gift you something as well?”
“Pfft. That?” Harri grimaced, and stuck her tongue out. “Some metal device meant to clean one’s tongue? And with it the admonition ‘You had best get to it, young lady,’” she echoed their father’s sonorous tones, “‘for with all the jawing you do, a plethora of dust likely resides within.’ Really? One’s own papa talks to them in such a manner?”
Anne chuckled. At times, ’twas easy to see where Harri came by her personality.
“Please?” her sister begged. “Just a single dab?”
“Nay. I shall not go behind Mother’s back.” Except when it comes to spending the night with strangers and gamekeepers?
“Oh, well. It was worth a try.” Harriet rolled to her back and closed her eyes. “I quite like him, Anne, your Lord Redford. You will accept him, will you not?”
“I hardly know him.” Lie. “You hardly know him.” Not a lie. “How can you form an opinion as to whether you like him or not?” And when did my fiddle-faddle-spouting little sister grow up to be so deuced clever?
“Because he held my gaze and answered me. At the door.” Her eyes blinked open and she turned her head. “I detest it when adults pretend as though I am not there or cannot hold a real thought longer than a goose.”
Goose? Anne wisely refrained from addressing that.
Of a sudden, Harriet bounded from the bed and stood in front of Anne, arms akimbo, eyes alight. “He called you Mary. M-A-R-Y. I heard you spell the other. Why would he think that? You have met before! When?”
Caught.
“I refuse to wager with you over whist”—or anything else—“but I shall promise you a bargain. If you promise me something in return?”
“Go on.”
Challenging opponent. Harri’s forceful posture didn’t ease one bit, prompting Anne to stand as well. “Allow me to speak with him tonight. Let us—Lord Redford and myself—have time and privacy between us until tomorrow.”
Anne pointed one finger at Harriet’s mouth. “You vow not to say one word—to anyone. And I promise to answer your questions.”
“All of them?”
“Aye.” But that does not mean I’m bound to tell you everything.
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow eve.”
Her sister nodded. “All right. You shall have my agreement—but only if you answer one question now.”
“Harriet.”
“Merry Mary Anne.”
“Fine. What is it?”
