Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(5)

“I know you detest being interrupted when you’re reading, Merry, but I had hoped for a warmer welcome than this.”

She rolled her eyes, but her defensive position eased. “I cannot invite you in with Father and Daniel away.”

“I know.” He motioned toward a pillared folly. “If we cannot enjoy tea together, shall we walk instead? You can update me on your Greek translations.”

Her book clutched at her side, she led the way across the wild grassland that was separated from the more formal gardens by way of a long line of hedges and tall trees.

“We shall be out of site of the house here. Mrs. Kemp does not approve of your visits without Daniel being here.”

“Mrs. Kemp does not approve of much.”

Merry giggled. “Why do you think I come out here to work? Mrs. Kemp is a fine housekeeper but why she thinks she can mother me I do not know. She is forever insisting I should be doing more ladylike things than reading or studying.”

“Like embroidery or playing the piano I suppose?”

She gave a faux yawn. “You have heard my piano playing. It leaves a lot to be desired.”

He nodded. “Indeed it does. Perhaps that is why Mrs. Kemp wishes you to practice.”

“I could practice for one hundred years and get no better. Some people are not meant to play piano, and I am definitely one of them. I am afraid I will forever disappoint poor Mrs. Kemp.”

“Well, you never disappoint me, Merry. Even if you are terrible at the piano.”

“Well, I—” She stopped and peered into the distance.

Looking in the same direction, he spotted a rider making haste down the main road to the house. From his livery and pace, it was an urgent message.

“Perhaps it is from Daniel,” said Merry, slightly breathless.

A knot fisted in his gut. There could be few reasons for an urgent message—and none of them good.

“Come, let us see what he wants.” Harcourt led the way across the grass to the house. They caught up with the rider by the time he reached the front of the house.

The man dismounted and held a letter aloft. “Urgent message for Lord Daniel Bradford.”

Merry sucked in a breath. “That’s my brother. He is away from home. I’ll take it.”

Harcourt paid the man a tip while Merry tore open the letter and scanned the paper.

“Oh.” Her knees buckled, and Harcourt had to act quickly to wrap an arm about her and support her.

“What is it?”

She peered up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “It’s Father. He—he’s dead.”





Chapter Two





Merry sagged onto a chair and peered around the drawing room. It was growing late but the summer sun had yet to give itself up. However, the room seemed gray and dull. She stared at the empty fireplace. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked—louder than normal it seemed. A creak of floorboards indicated servants still lingered outside the room, even though she had dismissed them.

She was in no mood to be around people, not now everyone had dispersed after the funeral. Fingering the fabric of her black gown, she considered the strange, empty feeling inside her. Nothing was different—not really. Her father was rarely at home anyway. Him being dead made little difference to her life.

And yet...

She tried to swallow the knot in her throat.

Her family had done their best to comfort her. Which had been strange. She didn’t need comfort. She had never really felt anything for her father. He was a stranger to her. She’d been raised by nannies and a governess who never quite knew what to do with her.

Then Daniel had taken over the role of her protector. Father had just been someone who shut himself away in his office for a while before brusquely saying farewell and going away again. Merry touched her cheek with gloved hands. She could not even recall if he had ever embraced her or brushed a fatherly kiss across her forehead.

She tugged off the gloves and flung them over the side of the chair. Her stays were pulling too tight and a headache had begun to form where the pins pulled her hair too tight. As she plucked them out one by one, the drawing room door eased open.

“I said—” She paused when she realized it was not a servant. “Harry! I thought you had left.”

The Earl of Langley stepped fully into the room. “I should have done perhaps.” He eased the door shut. “But I could not bring myself to.”

Merry stood. “You need not worry. I am perfectly well.” She forced a smile.

He stepped toward her. She had always been aware Harcourt was terribly handsome. The extensive line of lovers he left in his wake was a testament to that. But there was something about him in his funeral wear that had her breath catching slightly. It was an odd sensation—one she had never experienced around Harry before. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Are you well? Do you feel faint?”

She suspected she must look horribly pale. With Daniel away, arranging the funeral had been left up to her. Thankfully she had excellent servants who had helped her with most of it. The butler had been particularly useful. But she had never had to consider such things before. What hymns they would they sing? What the coffin would look like? What would be engraved on her father’s headstone? It has left her feeling strung out and older than her years.