Chapter Three #2
Evidently affronted, he raised his eyebrows. “Are you casting doubt on my ability to charm a lady?”
“I can’t imagine where you’re going wrong.” She walked across the richly patterned carpet to him. “You are a perfectly presentable gentleman of means.”
Mr. Feather puffed out a breath and tucked his thumbs in his waistcoat. “Well, thank you for that, at least!”
“Are you aware that my father and yours put their heads together in this room last night, after everyone had gone to bed?”
“No.” His brown eyes widened, and he rubbed a thoughtful hand over his smoothly shaved jaw. “I wonder what they came up with.”
“Take it from me, it was nothing good,” Erina said with a frown. “I am to invite you on a walk after breakfast, up to Hangman’s Hill.”
“A hike? How delightful. I hate to think where the hill got its name,” he mused. “But it seems apt.”
Despite her apprehension, Erina had to smile at his disconsolate expression. “You’ll feel more like exercise after a hearty breakfast. And you can tell me all about Miss Beckworth whilst we walk. Perhaps I can help. A bit of jealousy might move things along.”
“Good Lord, no.” Mr. Feather shuddered. “I’d rather hunt lions than come between two women.”
Erina headed for the door. “There would only be one who was serious, sir.”
“Right now, I fear there are none.” Mr. Feather walked beside her to the breakfast room. “Does terrible things to a man’s ego.”
After breakfast, Mr. Feather and Erina entered the path that led to the gate opening onto the meadow. He strode beside her making little comment.
She breathed in the scent of sun-warmed earth and raised the hem of her gown, the tall grasses tickling her legs above her half boots. “We don’t have to go all the way up if you’d rather not, Mr. Feather.”
“Call me ‘Harry,’ as it appears we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
“I shall call you ‘Harry.’ But we are not betrothed. I have not agreed to the marriage.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Quite so. As I haven’t yet asked you to marry me.”
She glared then, ignoring his smirk. “Then let it be so between us.”
“We’d best go right to the summit. I suspect your father or mine, or both of ’em are up in that tower with a telescope trained on us.”
Erina laughed. “You may well be right.”
“I don’t mind a good trek.” Harry strode along beside her toward the hill in the distance. “But you walk very fast.”
“It’s the way I’m made, I’m afraid.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Harry said. “A good friend of mine, Jack Ryder, is exceptionally tall and far more athletic than I am. Rides like the very demon. We still rub along well enough together.”
“Captain Ryder? I have met him.” Erina pictured the large man who’d given her a crick in her neck on the dance floor. He had a wonderful low chuckle and the bluest eyes. “I remember that he had all the ladies in a flutter.”
“Handsome chap. He’s a good fellow. A brave soldier. But restless.”
“I heard his father, the duke, died.”
“Yes. Hit Jack hard. He’s gone off into the country on his horse. I’ll miss him.”
“What is his direction?”
“Northern England, but he’s heading for Ireland first.”
She frowned. Men had such freedom. If only she were able to go to Ireland, she could help Cathleen.
Erina led the way up the narrow winding track through the magnificent aged oaks of Epping Forest. Above them, Hangman’s Hill waited.
A steep, hour-long march. She glanced at Harry, but he seemed to be keeping up well.
He might have been slim and declared himself lazy, but he was quite fit, not puffing a bit.
“Now, about Miss Florence Beckworth,” she began.
“No point.” Harry stopped and turned to view the landscape they’d left behind. The complex roofline of the family mansion rose above the trees with its turrets and chimneys reaching for the sky.
She frowned at him. “Surely, you haven’t given up?”
“I’m afraid I have,” Harry said with a shrug. He didn’t appear too heartbroken. “Miss Beckworth drew me aside after breakfast and confided in me.”
“Confided what?”
“She is in love with the village vicar. Her father opposes the match, but she’s determined to change his mind.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. But why?” Erina’s heart sank. Nothing now stood in the way of their engagement. She felt sorry for Harry, and she liked him, but not enough to marry. And it was clear he felt the same.
“Miss Beckworth wishes to be a pastor’s wife. There’s something about sermons and bible studies that appeals far more to her than I ever could.” Harry shrugged. “Come on, Erina. Step up, or we won’t be back for luncheon. Is that a kestrel I see soaring above us?”
Erina cast a glance at his set profile, wondering if Miss Beckworth’s rejection had hurt him badly, before raising her head to watch the magnificent bird swoop down to its prey.
And she tried to think of a way to change her father’s mind, or at least distract him from his plan.
Although Harry was more amiable than she had expected and he was certainly not unattractive, they would not suit.