Page 57 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

Her lips found his, and the pieces of Daisy’s heart came back together as he returned the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Daisy savored the feel of being safely cradled in his arms. Her hands rested upon his chest, still clasping his handkerchief tightly.

When their lips parted, Harry rested his forehead against hers. “I am never taking that handkerchief back, you must realize that by now.”

Daisy’s cheeks warmed. “I never really intended to give it to you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I did not know that a vicar’s daughter would turn to thievery. What would the neighborhood gossips say about you now, Miss Ames?”

She lifted her chin, unsmiling, and stated most firmly. “I do not care at all, Harry Devon, and you had better stop teasing me or I will call you Horace from now on.”

He laughed and scooped her up in an embrace, twirling her in the snow while she squealed. When he sat her upon her feet again, Harry dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Come, let me take you home in a gig. And while I’m there, I had better speak to your father. I have every intention of marrying you, Augusta Ames, and I will need his permission to do so.”

She tucked his handkerchief into her muff, then threaded her gloved fingers through his. “Harry—what about my school?” Although she thought—she hoped—she knew his answer.

“I am afraid you will have to change its name.” He spoke with all seriousness. “Mrs. Devon’s School for Girls sounds much better than Miss Ames’s School for Girls, does it not?”

She squeezed his hand tightly, joy filling her heart. “It does sound rather perfect.” And she trusted it would be exactly that.

Chapter Twenty-four

Dressed in a cream-colored gown, Daisy stared out the window, waiting for the carriage to arrive. Her father sat behind her, a book open before him. “It does not matter if we are late to the earl’s ball, Augusta.”

She bit back a smile, remembering the last time he had said similar words to her. “I know that, Father.” Tonight, instead of the Gooches, Harry would come for them. And tonight, at the Earl of Annesbury’s Christmas Eve ball, she would dance with Harry, and be introduced to all three of his brothers-in-law. Harry had told her, just after he asked for permission to court her, that his whole family would come to spend Christmas and New Year’s at Whitewood. It was the first time they would all be together under that roof since Christine’s marriage.

The whole idea of seeing Harry’s sisters made her stomach twist in a strange manner, but Harry reassured her all would be well. And how could it not? She would be with him. He’d even invited her and her father to Christmas dinner.

The carriage arrived, its lamps glowing against the snow-covered ground, and Daisy nearly ran for the door. “He is here, Father!”

She threw open the door before a servant could appear, and hurried down the steps. Harry jumped down from the carriage, holding his hand out to her. His eyes took her in, from the ribbons in her hair to her slippers. He raised one of her gloved hands to his lips.

“Daisy, you are most beautiful tonight.” Something about his voice made her breath catch in her throat.

“Thank you, Harry.”

Her father appeared, leaning on his cane to avoid slipping. Harry released her in order to help the vicar, who grumbled about people giving balls in the dead of winter. Harry made certain her father was seated comfortable, then handed Daisy into the carriage, before climbing in to sit across from her. His grin flashed in the darkness.

“Are you ready, Miss Ames?” he asked.

“I should hope so, Mr. Devon.”

“Have you a handkerchief?” he asked.

Daisy laughed, feeling her blush appear. “Always, sir.”

Her father sighed, deeply. “I do not understand young people anymore.”

She covered her lips to keep from giggling. It seemed whenever she was around Harry, she could not help but laugh. He had a gift for bringing forth joy in even the little things. He had helped her, just the day before, arrange for a table and chairs to be brought into the upstairs rooms at Mrs. Chandler’s. He had helped hang up a map of Great Britain, and a blackboard. He’d stacked books for her in shelves. And all the while, working near her, he’d made her laugh.

Their courtship had been the talk of the village, perhaps the county, for three weeks. Everyone knew about it, and as often as Daisy could be seen on Harry’s arm, she was. They shared a hymnal in church while he sat beside her. He escorted her father and Daisy home after services. He drove her through town in his open carriage, despite the snow, always at a moderate pace, and they stopped to speak to everyone they passed.

People had even begun to make sly remarks to Daisy about her prospects of becoming his bride. But apart from mentioning the name change for her school, Harry had not said another word of marriage.

Sitting across from him in the dark, Daisy tried to curb her impatience. Their courtship was, after all, quite wonderful. And she was assured, in every possible way, that he loved her. When it was the right time, he would ask her if they might have the banns read. She knew exactly what her answer would be, too.

The carriage stopped before Annesbury Park, which was lit with thousands of glittering lamps and candles in windows. Daisy waited for Harry to hand her down from the carriage, then slipped her hand onto his arm as anticipation built within her.

They were swept into the grand house with other guests before and behind them, the orchestra already playing. She looked up into Harry’s eyes.

“This is going to be a wonderful evening,” she said.