Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(17)

Griff was keeping himself busy, having already been invited to visit with several of the prominent families. Harcourt grinned to himself. He should have known the man would land on his feet with ease no matter where he went. At least it meant Harcourt could get time alone with Merry.

He strode up toward the Whitely estate. Hopefully Merry had not begun work without him. If yesterday was anything to go by, the woman would get herself into a pile of mischief and it would be up to him to dig her out. As much as he did not mind coming to her rescue, he was not certain Merry’s pride could take another fall. She had the ability to grow even more defensive when hurt, like a creature striking out after injury to ensure its survival. Her cold father had never helped matters, he suspected.

He paused on the road to the dower house when he spotted a figure. And it was certainly not Merry nor her friends. He scowled. A man scampered around the building and stopped by one of the windows. Harcourt eased himself out of the man’s view but was able to see him as he pressed his nose to the window. He could hardly be a thief, not with his elegant if slightly unfashionable dress.

Waiting, Harcourt watched as the man seemed to startle and scamper away. Though tempted to follow the stranger as he headed off down an ill-trodden path that would take him out onto the fields then to the main road, he did not much like the idea of leaving Merry unaccompanied.

What if the man was not alone? And what the devil was he spying on her for? It was no secret now that Merry intended to take over the dower house, particularly now that she was in conversation with the blacksmith and carpenter to help fix the building. Many were gossiping at how strange it was that a young woman should wish to lock herself away like that. Whoever that person was, he must have been looking for Merry.

The front door of the house was ajar. He shook his head. Anyone could walk in and accost her. Yes, they lived in a small, safe village, but that did not mean she should be blasé about her safety. There were no servants present today nor her friends by the sounds of it. He was certain if they were here, he’d know about it. He sighed. If that man had meant her harm, it would not have been difficult to get to her.

Pushing open the door, he paused abruptly. Glass shards were scattered across the hard-tiled floor of the hallway so that any visitor would tread almost immediately on them. Was this the work of that man? Had he been hoping to hurt Merry...or a visitor perhaps? And why? He jerked his head up at the sound of footfalls on the stairs.

“Stop!” he ordered.

Merry froze halfway down the stairs. Except for her startled expression, she was perfection. He was looking forward to her coming out of mourning wear but even in black, she made his heart race. There was something so damned enchanting about that forever befuddled expression and the way her crazed curls refused to be confined by pins.

He clamped his hands to his sides while he considered plucking those pins from her hair and thrusting his fingers into those soft locks.

“What is it?” she hissed. “Rolly?”

Frowning, Harcourt shook his head. “Rolly?”

“Yes, Rolly. The rat. Is he back?”

He chuckled. “No, Rolly is not back. Really, Merry, who names a rat?”

“Bella.” She took another step down and he strode forward, glass crunching under his boots.

“There’s broken glass everywhere,” he explained, holding a hand out to her. “Your shoes shall never survive it.”

“My shoes are quite sturdy.”

He glanced down at the boots that peeked out from under her hem. They were no dancing slippers but nor were they as strong as his boots. “I am not taking the chance. Take my hand.”

She scowled but put her hand in his and stepped down onto the bottom stair. Harcourt swiftly slipped a hand under her legs and swept her up into his arms.

“Oh!” Merry instinctively wrapped her arms about his neck.

Her gentle weight was expected. The need twisting about his insides not quite so much. Yes, he’d desired Merry for quite some time, but he’d always managed to keep it under control—except after the funeral. He could not help but recall how soft her lips had been and how perfectly she’d fitted against him. Just like she did now.

Carrying her into one of the drawing rooms, he set her down on a sheet-covered chair. “Stay here,” he commanded.

Her eyes were still wide and her lips slightly parted when he left her to clean up the glass but at least he knew she’d stay in one place.

He made swift work of sweeping up the glass with a broom he found in one of the rooms then disposing of it. Satisfied with a job well done, he headed back into the drawing room to find Merry where he’d left her.

“Well, this is a miracle. Merry Bradford actually did what I told her.”

The slight air of confusion snapped away and she stood. “There was no need for you to...to lift me. I could have stepped across it.”

“And have glass embedded in your foot, I don’t think so. Did you see what happened?”

She shook her head. “I have been upstairs in the bedroom for most of the morning.” A smile curved her lips and lit her eyes. “I’ve made quite a lot of progress. It should look quite pleasant once I am finished.”

“So you don’t know how that glass came to be there?”

She waved a hand. “I probably knocked something over earlier. There’s so much clutter and, well, you know what I’m like when I have my mind set to something. I was quite determined to get this bedroom clean.”