Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(4)

She lifted a finger for silence, read for a few more moments, then snapped shut the book. “What do you want, Harry?”

“I was thinking the fine company of a friend, but from that tone, it seems there is no fine company to be had.”

Merry stood and brushed down her skirt. “Forgive me, I was determined to finish that chapter. The housekeeper has insisted that every ounce of silverware must be polished today and there wasn’t a single room that was not occupied.”

Harcourt looked over at the house, nestled in a dip between the gentle rolling hills. Though smaller than his own house, Whitely was probably the second finest home in Dorset with elegant cream columns and squared off corners that left one in no doubt money had been spent on the design and creation. It was hard to imagine there was not a single room left unoccupied, but he knew Merry could not bear the slightest disturbance when studying.

“It’s too nice a day to be inside anyway.” He looked pointedly at her book. “Or to be reading.”

“What do you have against reading?” She clutched the book to her chest as though he might have hurt the damned book’s feelings.

“I have nothing against reading. You know I enjoy a good book or two. But not all the time. You should put your books down occasionally, Merry, and experience the world a little more.”

She sniffed dismissively. “I don’t see what the world has to offer me that cannot be found in a book.”

“You would rather be spending time with Greek gods, is that not it? Us mere mortals aren’t good enough for you.”

“I like some mere mortals, but you must admit, there are many who leave something to be desired.”

He chuckled. “I will concur. But not everyone is so awful. If you would but spend a little more time socializing, you would see that.”

She gave a mock shudder. “I’d rather spend time with Mrs. Kemp while she polishes every piece of silverware in existence than...socialize.” She said the word as though it created a bitter taste in her mouth.

He shook his head. “Merry, you are not an old spinster aunt. Do not speak as though you are. You should be dancing at balls and visiting the opera.”

She peered at him over her glasses. “Opera is overrated. And you know I loathe dancing.”

“Only because you have not found the right partner yet.” He met her gaze directly and let his lips curve.

Scowling a little, she eyed him back then blinked. “You do know Daniel is not returning for at least another month?”

He smiled. “I do indeed. Am I not allowed to call upon you?”

“You are, but I know very well why you are calling upon me. You have been doing this almost every week since you returned from London. Do you not have some important estate work to see to or a widow in London to seduce?”

Inwardly, he grimaced. It had been a long time since he had seduced a widow and while he did not particularly regret his younger years, he regretted Merry knew about it all. After all, how was he ever to change her mind about him, if she thought him a complete rake?

He opted for ignoring the comment. “I am completely at your service.”

“Well, I do not need you at my service, Harry. I can look after myself whether Daniel thinks so or not.”

“Daniel knows you can look after yourself. I, however, am not so certain.”

She glared at him, her lips turning into a mutinous pout. Her mouth, narrow but full, was always this stunning, almost berry red color. It made it damnably hard to concentrate on other things when he spoke to her.

“I am a grown woman in case you have forgotten, I am completely capable of being without my father or brother for a while.”

Oh, he hadn’t forgotten. Not one bit. How could he when she was standing in front of him, arms crossed under her breasts, reminding him of that enticingly curved figure that seemed to have come from nowhere a few years ago. She glared at him, her lips still pursed, her freckled nose thrusting upward. How little Merry had always hated being treated like a child.

“Completely capable, yes, but you do have a propensity for mischief.”

“What some call mischief, I call simply living life. But, of course, when a lady does anything even slightly different, it is called mischief.” She pointed her delicate nose in the air. “Anyway, it has been a long time since I have become embroiled in mischief.”

He grinned. “So you agree you are a mischief.”

“No...it’s just that...” She huffed. “Must you always tease me?”

“Always.” He let his smile broaden. “Do not forget I knew little Merry, who would hide from her governess and let the poor woman search for hours until she was in tears.”

She opened her mouth to protest then snapped it shut and folded her arms. “The woman could not teach me anything I could not learn from books. She did not even like Homer!”

Harcourt chuckled. The thought that someone might not enjoy Merry’s reading tastes was beyond her. “What about the various balls, where you and your friends would dash off to hide and drink sherry instead?”

“Sherry is far more interesting than stuffy old men who want to step on my toes.”

“Am I a stuffy old man?”

“Did you ever wish to dance with me?” she countered.

He had no retort for that. For his sins, he had not been interested. Merry was his friend’s little sister and a good acquaintance at best. At least until recently. Now...now she was so much more.