Page 52 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

Christian, Earl of Ivyford, was seated on the couch with Rebecca leaning against him, his arm curled around her waist and a hand spread over her expanding middle. The earl was reading a book, but Harry had caught his sister staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face.

The nursemaid appeared at the door, calling for the children to come wash before their dinner. There was a chorus of groans from the twins and the eldest daughter.

“Go on now,” Rebecca told them, amusement in her eyes. “I will be up to read you stories before bed.” After the children were herded out, Harry sat up and surveyed the impressive towers constructed from the blocks. “I think you may have some architects on your hands, Christian.”

Christian closed his book and dropped it in his lap. “Last week when you visited, you claimed the twins would take up espionage.”

“Given that they kept switching places, confusing me and everyone else about the place, I did think it would be a wise career for them. For king and country.” Harry forced a grin,

though he’d found ample humor in the twins’ antics on his last visit.

Rebecca started to sit up, groaning a little as she did, and her husband adjusted to support her as she stood. “I do not know why it is so difficult for all of you to see the differences in those two boys.” She put a hand to her back. “Though I do thank you for keeping them entertained the last three days. It has given me a respite.”

“But,” Christian added, “as grateful as we are for that, I must admit to some curiosity as to why you returned so swiftly.”

“Christian.” Rebecca turned around to swat her husband’s shoulder. “We agreed we wouldn’t ask.”

“I did not ask anything, carina. I merely expressed curiosity.”

Their easy exchanges had been difficult to watch the last several days, reminding Harry of all he wished for in his own life. Yet it was good for him, he knew, to see a match where there was so much faith and happiness. It gave him hope he still might find such a thing for himself. And they had been patient with Harry, allowing him into their home without asking questions, though he had barely been away for two days since his previous visit.

Rebecca had taken one look at her brother’s eyes the night he arrived and welcomed him back, saying only, “We will talk about it when you wish.”

Nothing even tempted him to talk about Daisy, about the whole horrid village thinking him a callous beast. He could go indefinitely without ever speaking of it again. But the concerned frown of his sister ought to be dealt with. She would worry about him, and in her condition, she ought not feel even the slightest of worries.

“Sit down, Rebecca,” he said, pushing himself off the floor. “And I will abate your husband’s curiosity.” He shot Christian a grin, but it faded quickly. It was easier to keep up pretenses with the children nearby.

“Harry, you really do not have to—”

“Rebecca, let him get it off his chest,” Christian interrupted her, his deep voice gentle. He took her hand and tugged her back onto the couch. “He will feel better, and you will stop fretting.” It was easy to read the concern in Christian’s expression, as he obviously thought the same as Harry regarding Rebecca’s health.

“You will remember I spoke of Miss Ames when I was last here,” Harry said, looking away from the couple now holding hands upon the sofa.

When Harry did not immediately continue, Rebecca spoke with a cautious tone. “Yes. I have always liked the younger Ames girl.”

“You expressed your great regard for her desire to create a school for underprivileged girls.” Christian, as direct as ever, did not leave off there. “Though I suspected you admired her for more personal reasons.”

Of course Christian would suspect that. Harry had not said anything directly about his affection for the vicar’s daughter, but he had not bothered to hide his regard for Daisy either. His whole soul ached when he thought of their parting, of the hurt and betrayal in her eyes. How could she think so little of him?

“Harry.”

He pulled himself through the haze of regret to stare at his sister, realizing he ought to have started talking, explaining things, instead of losing himself to memory. He cleared his throat, which had closed up on him. His eyes burned. It was the first time he had allowed himself to think on Daisy without immediately changing the course of his thoughts.

“I am sorry.” He cleared his throat again and tried to get hold of himself, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “I wanted what you two have. I thought maybe I had found—maybe Daisy was the other half of my life. It felt so perfect, to just be near her.”

He did not want to face his sister and see her pity. He turned his back to them and walked away several steps, until he could put his arm across the fireplace mantel and lean against it. “Everything fell apart. It was as if I stood on solid rock, only to find myself on a dune with sand slipping from beneath my feet. And just like that, it was over.”

It was Christian’s voice that rumbled, “You need to explain a little better than that, Harry.”

So he did. He explained. He told them everything, from his first seeing her beneath a tree, calling for a stubborn cat, all the way to their confrontation about the cottages. He left nothing out, save the kiss. Why did it hurt so much to speak of what could never be?

Almost since the moment he saw Daisy, he had been working to prove himself to her, building a dream where he was good enough for a woman such as her. Though he tried his hardest, he did not measure up. He never would. All that he had done up to that moment now seemed pointless.

When he finished his tale of woe, silence hung in the air, and his whole body drooped in exhaustion. How did something emotional effect his physical being that powerfully?

Rebecca spoke first. “When do you expect to go back to Whitewood?”

Harry stared at her, somewhat incredulously. Had she not been listening?