Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(56)

“He shall return I am sure. He has a new love for the country, I believe.” In fact, Harcourt fully suspected he would be back sooner rather than later. Griff still could not get over the fact that Miss Bella Lockhart has refused him and had spent the entire journey to Town, plotting as to how he would get his revenge.

“Oh, there is that Sir Seton fellow.” His mother lifted a glass in the direction of the wiry man who was doing an even better job of avoiding conversation than Harcourt was. “He’s a little odd. Stammers a lot.”

Harcourt nodded. “He is not at ease with people it seems.”

“Merry says he is quite nice once you get to know him, but his ways take some getting used to.”

Gritting his teeth, Harcourt nodded. Since the arrival of Merry’s relation, all had gone back to normal. Merry had not been besieged by carts or men with knives or anyone threatening her life. Harcourt had been able to dismiss the private investigator after he had dug into Seton’s past. The man was who he said he was, and while he was a little strange, he was utterly harmless. Harcourt’s desire to protect Merry had all been for naught. If he were a different sort of man, he’d be utterly humiliated, but he did not think he need to apologize for wanting her safe. Merry likely still thought differently though.

Drawing in a breath, Harcourt snatched up a glass of punch from the table behind him. “I shall go and try to make him welcome. After all, he is a relation of Merry’s and we should be welcoming.”

“A fine idea.” His mother beamed with approval. “Rather you than me. I seem to utterly terrify him,” she added.

“You terrify everyone,” Harcourt teased, darting away before his mother could scold him.

He approached Seton who was also nursing a glass of punch and gripping an uneaten slice of cake. The line of sweat that seemed to perpetually sit on his upper lip glistened in the sunlight. Seton jumped when he noticed Harcourt.

“Ah, Lord Langley. H-how pleasant to see you. Quite a party.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I am glad to see you again, Sir Seton. The last time I saw you, I am afraid you caught me in rather a bad mood.”

Seton gave a shaky smile. “Merry did explain that you were t-trying to help. I cannot be unhappy that a man like you was looking out for her while she was all a-a-alone.”

“You will forgive my rather brutish behavior?”

“Of course.”

Harcourt scanned the gardens. Merry’s friends were in attendance, along with many others but he had yet to see Merry. “Is Merry here, do you know?”

“Well, her brother is, but I have yet to see her. Perhaps she is at the-the house,” Seton suggested. “With her brother’s help, it looks to be ready very soon.” He smiled. “I can see the appeal in wanting to be alone.”

Damn it. Somehow, he felt that once Merry was in that house, it would be even harder to persuade her to leave her impending spinsterhood.

“Do you plan to stay in Dorset long?” Harcourt asked, continuing his study of the crowds.

“D-dorset is certainly different to Scotland b-but I would like to continue getting to know my relations. They have been quite welcoming, and Daniel and his wife are quite wonderful.” He nodded toward Harcourt’s mother. “Your mother is an excellent hostess. How lucky you are to have such a woman in your life to aide you, my lord.”

“She is something, that is to be certain.” Harcourt smiled to himself. “Why do you not come and tell her so yourself? I am sure she shall be pleased to hear as much.”

“Oh I do not—”

Harcourt ignored his protests and motioned for his mother to come over. She scowled but he knew she would not wish to appear rude. Seton’s cheeks blazed almost bright red.

“Sir Seton has been saying what a fine hostess you are.” Harcourt grinned at his mother’s discomfort. There, let him make up for all the times she had thrust him at strange women.

“I should go and speak with Daniel.” Harcourt motioned to the gardens. “Why do you not give Sir Seton a tour of the gardens, Mother?”

“Oh well, I—” She bit down on her lip and clasped her hands together, but not before shooting him a glare. “Of course. Sir Seton, will you follow me?”

Harcourt watched them stroll into the gardens and tried to suppress the smile twitching his lips. He meant his mother no ill will but perhaps she would now understand how it felt to be thrust at people he had no inclination to spend time with.

He eyed the crowds, his gaze falling on Merry’s friends. Still no sign of Merry. He frowned while he tracked Arabella’s movements. She put a hand to her head and moved away from everyone, toward the shaded area of the veranda. Her movements were shaky, and it did not take a fool to realize she was feeling unwell.

Striding over, he took her arm as she moved unsteadily toward one of the benches.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened.

“Let me help you.”

She inhaled audibly, the sound shaky. “Thank you.” The words were hardly a whisper.

“You’re feeling faint?” He eased her down onto the bench.

She nodded.

“Should I get you a cold drink?” Harcourt suggested. “Or one of the ladies to tend to you?”

Arabella shook her head. Though normally pale, against the yellow of her silk gown and her fair hair, she looked especially ashen. “I do not wish to make a fuss. Please, do not ignore your guests on my account.” She waved a hand toward the people scattered about the gardens.