Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(27)

“What would you have me do?”

She glanced at his bare forearms. Many men would not have noticed but Harcourt did. He saw her tongue dart briefly over her lips and her gaze linger before she lifted her eyes.

“Um, what if I wash and you put away?”

“Sounds good.”

Merry set to work scrubbing the dust and grime off the various cooking implements while he stacked them away on the shelves and in cupboards. It took a good hour to get most it done and while he was no stranger to hard labor when needs be, he was glad he did not have to do such a laborious task every day.

“Now I know why cook complains when the kitchen is messy.”

Merry laughed. “Me too. I shall never dismiss his words again.” She lifted a jelly mold. “Who knew one needed so many molds?”

“I suspect one does not.” He took it from her and their fingers brushed. The instant shock of sensation should have been something he was getting used to by now, but he wasn’t. And nor was she. She tugged her hand away quickly and immersed it back in the water. “It looks as though your family liked to collect kitchen implements too.”

“I have yet to find anything that is just a collection of one. There was even a drawer of soaps upstairs. All new and unused so I shall have to donate them somewhere.”

“No doubt the church can find somewhere useful to send them.”

“I can see why this house was all but abandoned now. No one wanted to tackle such a mess.”

Harcourt leaned against the counter and eyed her. “Are you regretting starting this now?”

She shook her head vigorously, sending curls bouncing against her cheeks. “I know this is best for Daniel. And for me.”

“I know you think balls and at homes are a waste of time, Merry, but surely you do not want to become a spinster before your time?”

“I do not see why everyone thinks a woman alone is so strange. Why can one not be content with one’s own company?”

“One can be utterly content with one’s own company, but not at the expense of life.”

“I know how to live.” Creases appeared between her brows. “Life is not just about balls and at homes, you know?”

“Believe it or not, I do.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Harcourt Easton giving up balls and parties...now that is stranger than me wishing to gain some peace and quiet to study.”

“Is it really that hard to believe that I have tired of it all?”

A pot in hand, she paused and met his gaze head on. “Truthfully. Yes. Do not forget that by the time I was fifteen, you were already well-established in Society. Stories of you and your...time in Town were infamous. I cannot see you giving up such an...adventurous life.” She lifted her chin a little. “And nor do I care if you do.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she protested. “You are my friend, Harry, and I would no more wish a stale, staid life on you than I would wish a life of balls and celebrations on me.”

“Perhaps, though, your friend wants other things in life. We are all capable of change. Surely even your books tell you that?”

Merry lifted a shoulder. “I—”

A sudden bang from upstairs sent Harcourt’s pulse racing. He grabbed Merry and shoved her up against an alcove, flattening her to the wall with his body. She made a strangled sound.

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and listened.

“It was probably something falling. Or the wind,” she hissed.

He turned, aware of her heart beating a tattoo against his chest.

Her breasts were crushed to his chest, her hips aligned almost with his. Underneath his fingertips, her arms trembled. He very much doubted it was with fear.

She drew in a ragged breath. “Harry?” she whispered.

He let his gaze linger on her lips, then along the pale freckles dancing across her nose. Inwardly, he chided himself. If there was an intruder upstairs, lusting over Merry was not his best move.

“Harry, you are crushing me.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him which only made things worse. Heat stirred in his body.

There was another thud, and Merry froze. He held his breath and listened again. Nothing more. Only the thump of his heart and the drip of a tap. Perhaps it was the wind again. But all his instincts said otherwise. And they were rarely wrong.

Spending time in London, even the more refined parts of Town, had left him with a keen instinct for danger. There were always plenty of thieves and criminals hoping to take advantage of the busy streets and lack of enforcement. Perhaps the strange man, and the footsteps and the broken door were nothing, but his instincts screamed otherwise.

Merry flattened her hands against his chest and pushed.

“Damn it, keep still, Merry.”

“Harry, I do not know what you think you are doing but it was just the wind. Or something. Certainly no reason for you to...to...” She drew in an audible breath. “To be so close to me,” she finished with a hiss.

He drew back, albeit reluctantly. If anyone caught them like this, Merry would be utterly ruined and as much as that might work in his favor, he had little intention of forcing her hand.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I am going to find out what that was.” She opened her mouth and he pointed a finger at her. “Stay here. I mean it.”