Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(52)

Harcourt curled a fist. She smiled up at one of the men he did not recognize as she motioned to the house. The man smiled back, and Harcourt tightened his fist until his knuckles hurt.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, striding over and eyeing the man.

“Oh, Harry. I have enlisted some help,” she said breezily.

How she tried to avoid his gaze did not pass by his notice. The bloody woman was determined to cut him out, he could see that, but it would take more than a few men to get rid of him.

“Have you no regard for your safety?” he hissed, taking her arm and pulling her aside.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Do you know any of these men?”

She peered at him. “They come highly recommended from Mr. Nicholson. I hardly think any of them would have a reason to harm me.” She drew up her shoulders. “Besides, I am not convinced I’m in any danger.”

“Damn it, Merry—” He paused when a figure caught his eye. His heart slammed into his chest.

“Harry?”

Racing over to the new stranger, he snatched the gangly looking fellow by his shirt and shoved him up against the stone wall of the house. “What do you want with her?” he demanded.

The older man, his gray hair wild about his face, struggled to release himself from Harry’s grip. “I say...”

Harcourt wasn’t fooled by the act. He’d recognize the man anywhere. “This is the man who was snooping around the house. He broke into the house,” he told Merry who had raced to his side.

“I certainly did not!” the stranger managed to squeak out.

“Why are you here? What do you want with Merry?” Harcourt pushed the man’s frail frame harder to the wall.

“Harry!” Merry protested. “You are hurting him.”

Harcourt looked at the man’s reddened face and eased his grip a little. The man was no good to him if he passed out. Harcourt wanted answers.

“I promise you...I did not break anything...” The man pulled feebly against Harry’s hand.

“Release him.” Merry tugged at Harcourt’s arm. “He cannot do any harm, look at him. Harry, please, let him go.”

Harcourt glanced at Merry and eased his grip. “Fine.” He thrust a finger at the man. “But one wrong move and I will kill you.”

The man’s pale blue eyes widened. “I-I-I do not know what you mean by wrong move. I only wanted to see my r-r-relation but I...” His face flushed red. “I well...” He thrust out a shaking hand to Harcourt. “Sir Seton at your service.”

Merry frowned. “Seton? Relation?”

Sir Seton adjusted his cravat and nodded, sucking in a breath. He glanced around at the audience of workers that had gathered. “Do you...do you mind if we take this somewhere private?” He dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “I am not...n-n-not very good with p-p-people around.”

Harcourt gave Merry a look. “Surely you are not convinced by this?” He motioned to the man. Whatever this awkward, uncomfortable act was, he was not falling for it. Ever since Harcourt had spotted him outside Merry’s house, all sorts of things had befallen her.

Merry eyed the man, then Harcourt. “Let us take this inside.” Harcourt hesitated, and she gave him a stern look. “Harry?”

He backed away just enough to let the man slip past him and follow Merry into the house. Harcourt shadowed the man. He wasn’t taking his eyes of this Sir Seton for one second.

Merry led the way into the drawing room that was almost fully refurbished now. All the paintings were hung, and the furnishings cleaned. It looked like the perfect space for Merry, and Harcourt did not like it one bit. It gave her yet another reason to refuse him.

“T-this is an interesting house.” Sir Seton peered around, his hands shaking as he pulled off his gloves and clutched them tightly. Sweat clung to his upper lip. Harcourt narrowed his gaze at him. Something was not right about this man, that much was certain.

“You say you are a relation?” Merry indicated to one of the chairs. “Please sit.”

Sir Seton shook his head. “I will stand if you do not mind. I do n-n-not do very well sitting still.” He cleared his throat. “I am your late father’s cousin.”

Merry nodded. “I recognized the name. But why have we never met?”

“We did when you were a little girl, but you would not remember me, and it is unlikely your father would mention me. My wife had family in Scotland, so I-I have had little occasion to be in England.”

“Why were you snooping around?” demanded Harcourt. “I did see you, nearly a month ago, did I not?”

Sir Seton swallowed and tugged out a handkerchief to dab at his upper lip. “I was. You must forgive me. I k-know my behavior...well...” He gave a shaky smile. “I am not very at ease with people. I wanted to talk with you, but I am afraid my courage failed me.”

“Why did my father never mention you?” asked Merry. “Or any of my other family?”

“We had a falling out many years ago, when you were barely two. But I do not wish to speak ill of the dead. Y-y-you have my sympathies, Lady Merry. I am s-sorry for your loss.”

“What did my father do?” she pressed.

Sir Seton smiled gently. “Not much. H-he just made it clear that I was not welcome. Someone of my, um, inability to...be...well...normal...” He sucked in a breath. “Your father thought me an embarrassment to the family. When I met my wife, it was made clear that I should not maintain contact. I am sorry, however, that it meant missing out on you and your brother growing up. My wife and I were never able to have children.”