what he will. Why should I care?”
Indeed, why should she care?
* * *
The Reverend Eustace Bailey’s height was enough to catch a lady’s eye. His light brown hair, though not combed in the latest London fashion, was thick and wavy and fell in attractive lines across his forehead and around his face. His countenance was chiseled in classic good looks. His eyes were light brown, cool and gave little away.
What was more to the point was that he was certain the object of his affection, Serena, was sure to find him attractive. He was sure of this from the way she always smiled when they chanced to meet.
He had a problem, however, and one that was forever hanging about. Not Frederick of Radburn, for the reverend considered the lad nothing but an errant boy. It was Warren Beverly that worried him.
Eustace stood in the central hall of the Moorely home eyeing Warren with great distaste, for they had arrived within moments of one another.
Warren snorted and offered, “Come on, ol’ boy, make the best of it. You couldn’t expect that a woman like Serena would have just one man hanging on to her petticoats, now could you?”
“You are beneath her, and I do expect she knows that,” the young reverend returned with something of a sneer.
“Well, as to that, the squire himself asked me to join the two of you tonight.”
The reverend turned openly astonished eyes to him and seemed unable to comment to this.
Warren grinned wickedly and wagged a finger. “There, there, you didn’t really think that the squire completely approves of your suit, did you? No, I am not sure he even likes you. Likes me, though.”
“Oh, and you know this how?”
“I have known the family for years,” Warren answered vaguely as he removed an invisible speck from his dress cloak. “I am privy to many things.”
“Dandy!” the reverend said with contempt.
Warren laughed.
* * *
Serena unbent from kissing her uncle’s forehead to find their elderly butler hovering at the door. “Miss Serena, both Mr. Waverly and the Reverend Bailey are here to escort you to the Merriweather ball.”
She turned a surprised face to her uncle. “Warren is here? I thought that the reverend was chaperone enough.” She eyed him, quizzically. “Whatever are you up to?”
“Didn’t want that prosy fellow Bailey taking you into the ball. It would make it look as though you and he had sealed the deal, and you haven’t. He isn’t for you, Serena. Something about the fellow makes me want to spit.”
Serena swallowed her laughter and turned to the retainer. “Thank you, Davis.” Seeing the slight smile curve his lips, she shook her head. “Oh, I suppose you agree with my uncle. You awful men. Right then, please advise the gentlemen that I will be down momentarily.”
She turned back to her uncle and, once the door was shut, wiggled a finger at him. “High-handed, my dear, very high-handed. I forgive you, for in this I will be, actually, more comfortable. Ah, escorted by not one man, but two. It is quite exciting and wonderful—this life, this spinster’s life,” she teased affectionately.
“Spinster? You, my dear-heart, are the Diamond of Hampshire, and though you are still unwed, you have them all beat. Disgraceful is what people will say about me. They will say ’ tis me keeping you from marrying.” He eyed her. “You like Warren, and the two of you would go on comfortably … his estate is near, and I would have you close by.”
“Uncle, please, we have been through this. I love you dearly, but I don’t love Warren in that particular way. Besides that, I have come to see that he would make a dreadful husband.” She sighed. “What I do want is for you to get out of this bed and come down and have breakfast with me tomorrow morning. The doctor says you are well enough to do so. So we, you and I, shall breakfast tomorrow in the breakfast room.”
She was almost out the door when he grumbled after her, “That minister means to
Indeed, why should she care?
* * *
The Reverend Eustace Bailey’s height was enough to catch a lady’s eye. His light brown hair, though not combed in the latest London fashion, was thick and wavy and fell in attractive lines across his forehead and around his face. His countenance was chiseled in classic good looks. His eyes were light brown, cool and gave little away.
What was more to the point was that he was certain the object of his affection, Serena, was sure to find him attractive. He was sure of this from the way she always smiled when they chanced to meet.
He had a problem, however, and one that was forever hanging about. Not Frederick of Radburn, for the reverend considered the lad nothing but an errant boy. It was Warren Beverly that worried him.
Eustace stood in the central hall of the Moorely home eyeing Warren with great distaste, for they had arrived within moments of one another.
Warren snorted and offered, “Come on, ol’ boy, make the best of it. You couldn’t expect that a woman like Serena would have just one man hanging on to her petticoats, now could you?”
“You are beneath her, and I do expect she knows that,” the young reverend returned with something of a sneer.
“Well, as to that, the squire himself asked me to join the two of you tonight.”
The reverend turned openly astonished eyes to him and seemed unable to comment to this.
Warren grinned wickedly and wagged a finger. “There, there, you didn’t really think that the squire completely approves of your suit, did you? No, I am not sure he even likes you. Likes me, though.”
“Oh, and you know this how?”
“I have known the family for years,” Warren answered vaguely as he removed an invisible speck from his dress cloak. “I am privy to many things.”
“Dandy!” the reverend said with contempt.
Warren laughed.
* * *
Serena unbent from kissing her uncle’s forehead to find their elderly butler hovering at the door. “Miss Serena, both Mr. Waverly and the Reverend Bailey are here to escort you to the Merriweather ball.”
She turned a surprised face to her uncle. “Warren is here? I thought that the reverend was chaperone enough.” She eyed him, quizzically. “Whatever are you up to?”
“Didn’t want that prosy fellow Bailey taking you into the ball. It would make it look as though you and he had sealed the deal, and you haven’t. He isn’t for you, Serena. Something about the fellow makes me want to spit.”
Serena swallowed her laughter and turned to the retainer. “Thank you, Davis.” Seeing the slight smile curve his lips, she shook her head. “Oh, I suppose you agree with my uncle. You awful men. Right then, please advise the gentlemen that I will be down momentarily.”
She turned back to her uncle and, once the door was shut, wiggled a finger at him. “High-handed, my dear, very high-handed. I forgive you, for in this I will be, actually, more comfortable. Ah, escorted by not one man, but two. It is quite exciting and wonderful—this life, this spinster’s life,” she teased affectionately.
“Spinster? You, my dear-heart, are the Diamond of Hampshire, and though you are still unwed, you have them all beat. Disgraceful is what people will say about me. They will say ’ tis me keeping you from marrying.” He eyed her. “You like Warren, and the two of you would go on comfortably … his estate is near, and I would have you close by.”
“Uncle, please, we have been through this. I love you dearly, but I don’t love Warren in that particular way. Besides that, I have come to see that he would make a dreadful husband.” She sighed. “What I do want is for you to get out of this bed and come down and have breakfast with me tomorrow morning. The doctor says you are well enough to do so. So we, you and I, shall breakfast tomorrow in the breakfast room.”
She was almost out the door when he grumbled after her, “That minister means to
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