The Secret of Pembrooke Park(24)

After the filling meal, flavored with plenty of conversation around the table, William suggested a walk to stretch their legs. Miss Foster offered to help with the dishes but his mother refused, insisting both Leah and Abigail accompany him for a walk and leave the dishes to the rest of them, to the groans of Jacob and cheerful compliance of Kitty.

While the women collected their bonnets and wraps, William stepped outside to wait for them, drawing in a breath of cool evening air, refreshing after the warmth of the small house.

A man on horseback approached, causing Brutus to launch into ferocious barking.

“Brutus!” William hollered, but the dog paid little heed.

As the rider neared, William recognized Andrew Morgan. Seeing his old friend gladdened his heart. Andrew’s father had recently inherited nearby Hunts Hall from a cousin, after the man’s death. Before that, the two young men had become acquainted when Andrew’s family visited Hunts Hall over the years. Later, they were at school together.

Andrew dismounted and tied the rein to the gate, the horse jigging a bit, clearly unsettled by the barking dog. His father came out and, to the horse’s relief, quieted Brutus far more successfully than William had done.

Andrew came up the path, hand outstretched. “William, you old devil. Though I suppose I ought not call you a devil, your being a clergyman now. Good to see you, old man.”

“You as well, Andrew. How are you?”

“Excellent. Enjoyed traveling about, but I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sure your parents are glad as well.”

“Yes, Mother wants more grandchildren. Talks of little else.”

“And do you mean to oblige her?”

Andrew cocked his head to one side. “Oh, I see how it is. Hoping for rich fees for performing the marriage and all those christenings, ey?” Andrew grinned. “What about you? Any progress in that area?”

William felt his smile falter. “No. I’m . . . afraid not.”

Andrew sobered. “Sorry, Will. Have I brought up a sore subject? If it helps, last I saw Rebekah she was as big as a mother bear and half as cheerful. Though she has since been delivered of a strapping son.”

“Yes, I heard.” William shifted, and said awkwardly, “And I am not suffering in that regard, Andrew, I assure you. Though I was sorry to hear about her husband.”

“Were you?”

“Of course.”

The door opened behind him, and Leah and Miss Foster stepped out, wearing bonnets and pelisses and pulling on gloves as they came. William was struck again at Miss Foster’s beauty. The bonnet framed her face and softened her angular features. Her dark eyes contrasted strikingly with her creamy skin. Beside him, Andrew Morgan stared as well. Had he imagined his friend’s sharp intake of breath? He glanced over and found the man’s gaze riveted on the ladies—or had one lady in particular caught his eye?

His sister stilled upon seeing his companion, her smile falling away, her features stiffening to the wary lines she always wore when confronted by a person not of close acquaintance.

“Leah, you remember Andrew Morgan, I trust?” William hastened to reassure her. She had met Andrew a few times in the past when he’d visited his father’s cousin, though it had been more than a year since the two had seen one another.

Leah curtsied. “Yes. How do you do, Mr. Morgan.”

Andrew bowed. “I am well, thank you, Miss Chapman. And you . . . you are in good health, I trust?”

“I am. Thank you.”

William was surprised by the stilted greeting, especially on his gregarious friend’s part.

Recalling his manners, William turned to Abigail. “Miss Foster, may I present my friend Andrew Morgan. Mr. Morgan, our new neighbor, Miss Foster.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Foster. It is a rare thing to have a new neighbor in this sleepy parish.”

William explained, “Miss Foster and her family have let Pembrooke Park.”

Andrew’s eyebrows rose. “I had heard the old place was occupied at last, but I must admit I assumed by some undertaker or ghoul—not a lovely young lady like yourself. You are quite alive, I take it?”

Miss Foster shot him a bemused grin. “Quite alive, I assure you.”

“Excellent. Well, welcome to the neighborhood.”

William explained to her, “Andrew’s parents live in Hunts Hall, on the other side of Easton. Papa is their agent. But Andrew here has been traveling abroad most of the twelvemonth since they moved in.”

Abigail nodded her understanding. “Then you are a newcomer as well, Mr. Morgan.”

“I suppose I am.” Andrew smiled. “I say, what propitious timing. Mother is having a little dinner party in a fortnight to welcome me to Hunts Hall. She’s inviting several relatives and friends of hers, and gave me leave to invite a few friends of my own. Why don’t the three of you join us? Say you will, or I shall be bored to tears.”

William hesitated, glancing at Leah to see how she would react.

She looked away from Andrew’s eager face, clearly disconcerted, and demurred, “Surely your mother did not mean for you to invite just anyone you happened to meet.”

“You are hardly just anyone. William and I were at Oxford together. And you are his sister. And—”

Miss Foster interjected, “Thank you, Mr. Morgan, but you needn’t feel obligated to include me just because I happened to be here. But include Miss Chapman, by all means.”