Page 12 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

“I understand the truth in that.” Mr. Devon sat taller again, his eyes meeting hers. “It is something I will think on. Thank you, Miss Ames, for sharing that perspective.” At least he did not say those words dismissively, but he gave real weight to each one, as though he meant it.

Daisy nodded and pointedly gave her attention to her plate, willing the men to change the subject so she needn’t smooth anymore ruffled feathers. As handsome as Harry Devon had grown since her childhood, he really didn’t seem all that different from other gentlemen she’d met. He flirted, he charmed, and he didn’t pay much attention to the more important matters of life.

He is kind, she amended her thoughts, feeling a prick of guilt for judging him with such haste. He rescued Bell from the tree, he accepted our very humble invitation. The only reasonable thing for her to do was withhold her opinion until she knew him better or he went away again. Considering what she’d learned thus far, she thought the latter the more likely outcome.

Chapter Five

After his morning ride, Harry went in search of Thomas. His brother-in-law would be going over the accounts and letters in regard to his horse farm, which was thriving from all that Harry could tell. Thomas Gilbert had grown his stables from a few mares into a veritable herd of fine-blooded animals. A horse from his stables had sold for five hundred pounds at Tattersall’s, or so Harry had heard from a friend. If anyone could give Harry the advice he sought, it was Thomas. Apart from being successful in his chosen path, Thomas was also a level-headed gentleman. Sometimes, Harry wondered how his somewhat exuberant sister had fallen in love with a man so much her opposite.

“Tom?” he said, poking his head around the doorframe.

His brother-in-law looked up from a desk covered in neat stacks of books and carefully arranged papers. “Harry, good morning. Did you enjoy your ride? Which beast did you take out today?”

Though he had a horse of his own, gifted to him upon completion of his studies by Thomas and Christine, Harry enjoyed trying as many of the mounts as possible when visiting. “I’m not sure I can say the name aloud and consider it respectable,” Harry said, not even trying to hide his grin. “Who in your family thought naming a hunter of that size Little Rosie?”

Thomas chuckled and stood, stretching. He’d obviously been at work for some time, given the way he relished getting out of his chair. “A daughter of one of the grooms. Her father brought her in for the birth four years ago and, in his elation, asked her what she would name the animal. I was there, and you’ve never

seen such big blue eyes. I couldn’t tell her the filly would be called anything else.”

“You have a great weakness for young ladies who enjoy horses,” Harry said, dropping into a chair near the fire. “Am I disturbing you, Tom?”

“Not at all. I welcome the distraction. What brings you to my study this morning?” Thomas came to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel.

After leaving the vicar’s home the evening before, Harry had turned over Miss Ames’s words to him several times. They had built upon what Christine had spoken to him of the day he arrived for his visit. People seemed to think he needed to give more attention to his holdings. He supposed he understood, but would it really change anything if he received his steward’s reports living at Whitewood instead of in a letter?

“I have been thinking about the estate,” he said at last. “But for all my thoughts, I am no closer to a decision.”

“You are still considering leasing it.” Thomas said, his eyebrows raised.

“Not just yet.” Harry sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think Christine is right, that I ought to look into matters further before allowing strangers to move into the home. It may not be the best course of action, or there may be things I must see to before taking such a step.”

“Then what sort of decision are you speaking of, if it is not the matter of the lease?” Thomas asked, his brow wrinkling with perplexity.

“I suppose I am talking of the largest decision. The one that encompasses everything else; the house, my position in society, the investments my father made.” Harry tilted his head back against the chair and raised his eyes to the ceiling, a cream-colored expanse that revealed no answer to him. “I must decide what to do with my life, and determine what sort of shepherd I am.”

There was a moment of silence, then Thomas asked, somewhat incredulously, “Are you taking up sheep farming?”

Harry’s smile appeared without effort, as it usually did. “No. I apologize. I had an interesting conversation with the vicar and his daughter last evening.”

“Ah. Yes. That explains…nothing.” Thomas crossed the room and sat in the chair nearest Harry’s. “But you are speaking of your path in life, I think.”

Harry gave only the slightest nod to confirm his brother-in-law’s words. “For the past several years, my way was clear. Finish schooling. Travel, spend time with my family. I’ve come home and there isn’t a route mapped for me. There is no list of things to accomplish. What am I to do now? I am twenty-four years old and I haven’t a plan of any sort.”

Thomas made a humming sound before speaking. “Haven’t you anything you want to do?”

“Not really.” Harry sat up straight again. “Father always said he would train me up, make me a suitable apprentice in managing his business investments. That hardly seems necessary, given that I have a steward and solicitor, and an accountant as well.”

“I can see why you might think that,” Thomas said slowly, regarding Harry with raised eyebrows. “But your accountant could sail to the West Indies tomorrow, or your solicitor found to be a swindler, or your steward could retire. What would you do if even one of those men disappeared before they trained a replacement?”

Harry blinked at the older man, his mind unable to produce an answer. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He was even more woefully lost than he’d thought.

“Having those men train you would mean that you would have an understanding of how things work and be capable of confronting any problems that arise yourself.” Thomas laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the arms of the chair. “There. You have something to add to your list, or the map for your path. Whichever method you prefer.”

“A list might be just the thing.” Harry considered the thought, liking it more as he did. “That is where I will start. I will make a list and learn as much as I can from the men who are running things in my stead.”

Thomas reached out and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “There you are. A decision made. You will find that the more you make, the more comfortable you will become.”

“Let us hope so.” Harry’s unease had already lessened with the pronouncement. He imagined Miss Augusta Ames sitting before him, her gray eyes serious even while a smile tugged at her lips. She’d surprised him by being something of a contradiction, all friendly smiles one moment and the quiet vicar’s daughter another. What would she think of his decision to inspect the work of the hirelings?