Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(22)

Harcourt nodded with satisfaction. As much as he liked his friend’s company, it was easier to deal with Merry alone.

Making his way upstairs, he headed to the study. Lined with books on every wall, the room reminded him of Merry. When she had been younger and visited with her brother, she’d enjoyed the study almost as much as the library. She claimed its smaller proportions made a perfect reading space. He could almost picture her curled up on the chair in the corner whilst he dealt with estate business at his desk.

But it was no estate business that he needed to be concerned with now. He sat and dabbed the quill into ink as he drew out a fresh sheet of paper. No, his primary concern was Merry. Or to be more exact, what someone wanted with Merry. With her father recently dead, it seemed no coincidence that someone was spying on her.

There could be debts attached to the estate, he supposed. Perhaps her father had done business with some nefarious people. Whatever it was, he would not let Merry get tangled up in it. He penned a quick letter to his lawyer in London, requesting information on Merry’s father and his dealings, as well as expressing the need for some investigating. If someone out there was looking to harm or threaten Merry in some way, he wanted to know about it.

As he sealed the letter, the door to the study opened. He swung a glance at it, expecting it to be the butler or his valet, but a bonneted head popped around the doorway.

“There you are!” His mother eased open the door fully and stepped in. She still wore travelling clothes but looked as glamorous as ever. “Goodness, you do look a mess.”

Harcourt arched a brow. “It’s nice to see you too, Mother. I thought you were still in Bath. I had no notice of your return.”

She waved a hand and came to perch on the edge of the desk. With chestnut hair only marginally streaked with gray and a persistent smile, it was hard to remember his mother was ageing. She prided herself on being the center of all things social and could be counted on to liven up even the dullest of balls.

He suspected her attitude to socializing had rubbed off on him years ago and could be to blame for decadent years in London. Or he was simply making an excuse for himself. But he felt no shame over that time. That had been one segment of his life—the period where he figured out what he wanted—and this next one was another. With any luck, it would see him married and settled—with one woman specifically.

“I probably beat my letter home. The roads were so dry that we made perfect timing. So rare for this country.”

“If I’d have known, I would have made sure I was home.”

She leaned forward and adjusted his cravat then scowled. “What have you been doing? There’s dust in your hair. Goodness, actually, there’s dust everywhere.”

“I’ve been helping a friend,” he said simply.

“By getting dusty? My dear, I am certain you forget your position at times. One does not need to get dirty to help one’s friends.”

“A little dust never killed anyone, Mother.”

She slid off the desk and smoothed down her skirt. “I am certain that is not true. I’m willing to bet that dust has killed at least one person.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Now, go and get cleaned and changed. I am hosting an ‘at home’ this afternoon.”

He eyed her. “You cannot have been home long.”

“And I am itching to see everyone.”

“How will they even know you’ve returned?”

“Oh, they shall know.” His mother’s smile turned mischievous. “I ensured that I took the carriage directly through the village. Everyone saw my return. All my friends shall know I am home before long. Besides, we have a guest do we not? Lord Langley. I have not seen him in some time.”

“You always did like to make an entrance.” Harcourt stood, letter in hand, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Though Lord Thornford is likely still abed. He cannot get used to country hours.”

“Well, he had better. He was devilishly handsome if I recall. I am certain many shall want to invite him to their homes.”

Harcourt masked a smile. If his mother started meddling in Griff’s love life, he would definitely want to return to London sooner rather than later. “It is good to have you home.”

“Yes, yes.” She brushed dust from his shoulders. “Now go and change. There shall be many eligible ladies visiting, no doubt.”

He frowned. “I’ve changed my mind. You should go back to Bath.”

She laughed. “Do not be like that. You are past thirty, my dear.”

“Only just,” he grumbled.

“It is high time you married, and would it not be nice to marry a local girl? There are many lovely ones who are just ripe for marriage.”

Harcourt considered this. He could only think of one, and Merry was probably not what his mother considered ‘ripe for marriage’, particularly considering Merry seemed to be committing herself to some sort of spinster lifestyle by moving into the dower house. There were a few young ladies in the village who were of good breeding and had all the manners and refinements that his mother would like but none of them had ever interested him. He preferred his women with a little more courage.

“I have too much to do, I’m afraid, Mother. You shall have to entertain these ripe girls alone.”

“Oh, you are wicked. Do you not see that I am ageing? I need grandchildren, Harry, and quickly. Not to mention, it’s your bloody duty.”