Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(26)

“Oh.”

There. He’d seen it even as she’d tried to disguise it. That little flash of hurt.

“Do you not think I should wed, Merry? After all, I am getting on.”

“You are hardly ancient.” Her throat bobbed. “But I suppose it is your duty, after all.”

Though tempted to tease her further, Harcourt could not bring himself to. “What were you doing at the carpenters?”

“The rear door of the house is broken. I cannot fathom how. It seemed quite secure yesterday.”

He scowled and straightened. The footprints he’d seen the other day and how it looked as though one of the windows had been tampered with combined with a broken door had him on alert. Something strange was afoot.

“Are you going back to the house now?” he asked.

Merry nodded. “I’m trying to clear the kitchen now.”

“And you’ll be there alone? Your friends are not helping?”

“They have done quite enough already. I only intend to do some light work for now.”

“I shall come with you,” he insisted.

“Really, there is no need. If I need your assistance, I will ask, I promise.”

He lifted a brow. “Really?”

“I will,” she vowed.

He rather doubted it. The stubborn woman had let him help once but he was certain she’d keep on trying to do it alone until she broke another piece of furniture and did some harm to herself. He could not let that happen and an uneasy sensation had settled into his gut about her being at the house alone. It was probably one of the few moments in her life she was alone. At Whitely she was surrounded by servants and if she was not accompanied by her friends, she was usually with her lady’s maid.

“I’ll come and help anyway. I have little else to do.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “I do not believe that. You must have estate business to see to.”

He did, but it could wait a few more hours. If he had to work into the evening, so be it. More time with Merry and ensuring she was protected made a late night completely worth it.

“You underestimate me, Merry. I am supremely efficient.”

She rolled her eyes. “And supremely arrogant.”

He grinned. “Naturally.”

“What of Lord Thornford?”

Harcourt peered in the direction of his friend who was surrounded by a gaggle of women and enjoying himself far too much. “I think he is otherwise occupied. I doubt he shall even notice I am gone.”

They made their way back to the house, following the road up out of the village and onto her brother’s land. Sunlight flecked between the leaves while the wind rustled the trees.

“I am glad I caught you, Merry. I thought we might be able to continue our conversation that was interrupted the other day.” He paused. “I hope Arabella is well.”

Merry’s smile was slightly forced. “She is well.”

“Good. In that case, I thought I might reiterate—”

“See?” she interrupted hastily. “The door is in dire need of replacement.”

Harcourt inspected the door that had splintered on one edge. To him, it looked as though someone had kicked it in.

“Is anything missing?”

Merry shrugged. “I would say no but there is so much in the house, it is hard to say. Most of it is not valuable though, not even the paintings. I’m certain it must have been the wind.”

He considered the exposed rear of the house. There were trees at the front, hiding it from the main house but the back of it was exposed to the weather. The recent wind could have blown it open, but he doubted it. He had no wish to scare Merry so he made a non-committal noise.

She was here alone. While he did not mind the opportunity to be with her, he didn’t like the thought of it if it meant someone could have easy access to her. Whoever this someone was and whatever it was they wanted with her. Harcourt was going to have to spend even more time with her whether she wanted him around or not.

“Where shall we start?” he asked, already loosening his cravat.

Merry folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you help.”

“You could try to dissuade me, but you’d fail.”

“I do not know why you call me stubborn all the time when it is clearly you who is the stubborn one.”

“Perhaps, Merry, we simply match in stubbornness.” He grinned.

She huffed. “A recipe for disaster.”

“I disagree.”

Her throat bobbed a little and she turned away to clear her throat. “Come on then. If I cannot get rid of you, I might as well put you to good use.”

“I can think of nothing better.” He drawled the words, ensuring she heard the hidden meaning behind them.

She ignored him and marched to the kitchen stairs. He chuckled to himself as her stomping footsteps echoed through the empty house. Merry put up a good fight but he could read her too well. She was struggling to fight this.

He joined her down in the kitchen. Several lamps and candles were lit, suffusing the gloomy space with a warm glow. The jelly molds and bowls on the table had already been washed and set aside to dry, and some of the side tables looked clearer. Harcourt drew off his jacket and pulled the cufflinks from his sleeves and tucked them in his pocket. Rolling up his sleeves, he clapped his hands.