The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (26 page)

Lucas Sumner had grown from lanky lad to a huge, square-shouldered man with shadowed eyes that had seen too much suffering. Harriet’s soft heart nearly plummeted to her toes. She could ignore laughing, handsome men. She could not ignore wounded ones.

“Thank you for rescuing my obstreperous daughter, Miss Briggs. I must take her home, where she belongs.”

A small hand clenched Harriet’s. The child very properly did not argue, but Harriet knew how it felt to be invisible. She tickled Verity’s palm while nodding pretend agreement. She would give Major Sumner one more chance at a little empathy.

“I have promised Verity tea and biscuits,” she said in her politest hostess tones. “Perhaps we could retire to the parlour and have a bite before you must leave?”

“No, she’s not capable of sitting still,” he responded dismissively. “I would not ruin your rugs with spilled tea and crumbs. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Miss Briggs. Perhaps another time?”

Ah well, such a pity that he was a blind fool like all the others, but then, attractive men often thought they owned the world. And society allowed them to continue thinking that.

Harriet supposed it was naughty of her, but she would like Verity to recognize that she was not lacking in any way. She was simply being a child, and her father was simply being … well, a stiff-necked man.

At her father’s curt dismissal, Verity tugged her hand free and fled the room. Major Sumner uttered an impolite word and stalked after her.

Harriet blocked his path. Giving the Major a warning look, she called after the fleeing child, “If Invisible Girl will wait outside the front door, I will follow shortly. I do not break promises!”

The front door slammed. She hoped Verity was bright enough to listen. And be curious.

“I promised Verity tea and biscuits. Now I shall have to walk with her and explain they’ll have to wait for another day or she will think I’ve lied to her.” Harriet pasted a sweet smile over her irritation.

The glowering gentleman appeared prepared to bodily remove her from his path, and her smile grew more challenging.

Lucas did not know what to make of the annoying Miss Briggs. She walked alongside him without a coat to cover her thin lawn blouse. Even her dishevelled lace jabot did not conceal her plump bosom. Her riding skirts and boots allowed her to take long strides that matched his, proving she was not so demure as her pursed lips and silence would lead him to believe.

She had a veritable cloud of frizzy mouse brown curls that she had made no attempt to tame or cover. She had not really grown out of her gangliness either. Her limbs were long and ungraceful, but her waist was small, and she curved in womanly places as she had not as a fifteen-year-old. He supposed, in an evening gown, she would reveal far more than this unconventional costume did. He could not quite put a reason to his shock … or attraction. She was as undisciplined a hoyden as Verity and not at all the polite sort of female he’d envisioned.

Perhaps he should have visited a dolly-mop or two in London before returning to the village if his idea of luscious womanhood was this defiant filly.

As they strode along the village lane, Verity scampered behind the stone fences and hedgerows, just out of sight, but following closely, as she must have earlier when she’d trailed him here. His daughter was far too clever and bold for her own good.

The silence grew awkward. Lucas sought for some means of breaking it, but he did not have much experience in conversing with unattached females. He had rather hoped for a businesslike transaction. Courting was another matter entirely — provided he wanted to court a woman who defied him before they even exchanged greetings.

“Do you prefer rural society to London?” he asked, wincing at his stilted tone.

“I believe I prefer animal society,” she responded without inflection.

Perhaps he should have listened to Lorena. Miss Briggs was not a comfortable companion, at the very least. Just a little annoyed that she ignored him to keep her eye on Verity, he released some of his frustration.

“Pets cannot talk back?” he suggested with a hint of sarcasm.

She shot him a sideways glance but whether of surprise, appreciation or distaste, he could not discern.

“Animals
do
talk back, if only one listens. Rather like children, actually.” Her small boots kicked up dust on the rutted dirt lane.

“Children aren’t supposed to talk back. They are too young to offer intelligent observation and must be educated.”

She made a rude noise that startled him. He was very much out of touch if ladies these days made uncouth sounds instead of pouting prettily.

“I have not been back in the country long,” he admitted cautiously. “Perhaps I am missing the nuances of your reply.”

She bestowed a laughing look on him. “What would you think if your batman snorted at your priggish assertion?”

He’d definitely been around men too long. Her laughter stirred his interest more than a little, despite her insult. “I would think he needed his pay docked,” he responded tartly. “Would you take that attitude from a kitchen wench?”

“I would if she was speaking about something of which she knew more than I did,” she said.

There was the spirited girl he remembered, although he’d rather forgotten that she had a tart tongue to match her intelligence. But she was wrong if she thought a child ought to be allowed to talk disrespectfully to her elders.

“Invisible Girl shouldn’t climb trees,” Harriet abruptly called as Verity headed for a low-hanging apple branch. “Trees make her visible.”

Verity darted back into the cover of the hedge.

Now he was more than intrigued. “Invisible Girl?” he enquired.

She shrugged. “Women and children are expected to be invisible. That works for some of us. Not all.”

“Expecting Verity to behave is not asking her to be invisible. There is a reason discipline and authority are required,” he objected. “If my men didn’t follow my command, they could put themselves or others in harm’s way.”

“Provided your command was correct,” she argued. “You do not allow for independent thinking.”

“Not while I’m the one responsible for what happens! That’s the entire point of being in charge — to know what is best for those relying on my expertise and knowledge. Verity cannot simply run unchecked about town, not acknowledging anyone’s authority but her own.”

“She is a child! She cannot be expected to respect the authority of someone she barely knows. And who barely knows her! Have you even tried to understand your daughter, Major Sumner?”

“I shouldn’t have to
understand
her, Miss Briggs,” he declared. “She should simply obey the adults in her life until she’s reached an age of reason.”

Miss Briggs gave him a look of incredulity, emitted another rude snort, and climbed the turnstile to join Verity in the field. Together, they ran laughing in the direction of the village.

Lucas didn’t think his suit was going very well. Perhaps he should consider plump, henpecked Mary after all. He marched down the lane, realizing this was the first time he’d seen Verity laugh since he’d returned home. He tugged uncomfortably at his neckcloth.

Striding down the lane after Sunday dinner, Harriet knew she’d behaved badly earlier in the week. And she’d done so deliberately, rejecting Major Sumner before he could reject her. She’d seen the disapproval in his eyes, let it raise her temper and then she’d goaded him into behaving like a military high stickler. Which he was, or at least, he had been. That did not mean he was a bad man, just one accustomed to certain behaviour.

The kind of behaviour a child could not follow. Nor Harriet, for all that mattered, but that did not mean Major Sumner was
wrong.
It just meant that he and his daughter would have a very hard time of it, if someone did not intervene.

She was probably not the right person to do so, but who else would? The other unattached ladies in town simply whispered to each other behind their hands, wearing their best bonnets in hopes that Major Sumner would notice them. As if he was likely to notice a bonnet full of roses and birds! They’d do better to wear stiff military caps to make him feel more at home.

Mary had taken him a basket of muffins. Jane had taken him a pie. The child and Major Sumner would not go hungry, at least. But Verity would be ignored and feel even more like an Invisible Girl.

Verity was the only reason Harriet was marching down the lane this fine April Sunday afternoon, carrying a basket containing an adorable black-and-white kitten that would create havoc in Major Sumner’s orderly household. Perhaps he needed to be reminded — as the other ladies would not — that he was not the only person in his home.

She supposed she ought to apologise for her earlier behaviour while she was at it, but she was not so certain on that matter. She had, though, dressed carefully for church that morning. If Major Sumner had noticed, he had not given a sign. He’d been too busy trying to keep Verity behaving like a proper major general.

So Harriet was taking the liberty of calling on the child this afternoon, while still wearing her Sunday sprigged muslin. She’d even tamed her hair to stay inside her bonnet, except for a loose curl or two. She wore her gloves and kid slippers and looked as much like a lady as she possibly could, so Major Sumner would have no reason to disapprove of her disreputable untidiness and set off her temper again.

Perhaps she might show him she could be proper, if she must, but neatness had never been overly important to her. She’d kept the family housekeeper on even though Agnes was half-blind and unaware of the damages Harriet’s pets caused. Harriet preferred her pets and Agnes to orderliness. If the Major wanted tidy, he should court Mary Loveless and her overbearing mother.

Nor could she compete with pretty Elizabeth or sweet-tempered Jane. Harriet was plain. Sometimes, when she did needlework, she even wore spectacles. And no man had ever called her sweet. So all Harriet could hope was that if she looked respectable enough, Major Sumner would allow her to be a friend and help with his daughter.

She had ascertained that Lucas had returned to his father’s old cottage on a small lot between her father’s farm and the village. His father had been the town physician until his death last spring. Harriet had often visited his home with her father’s tenants. She was familiar with the two-storey cottage.

The lilac by the front door needed trimming, but it would bloom wonderfully in another month. Harriet rapped the knocker. Before anyone could answer, a childish shriek of fear and a masculine shout of panic erupted from the yard behind the house.

Setting the kitten basket on the doorstep, she lifted her Sunday skirt and raced past a few bedraggled jonquils and a struggling peony, around the corner, to the old stable.

Seeing no one in the yard, she followed the sound of angry shouts into the stable — where Verity hung upside down from the rafters with a large harness around her waist, in peril of slipping out on her head at any moment.

If it were not so terrifying a situation, it would have been funny. How had the child ended up swinging like a trapeze artist?

The rafter was tall and Verity was short. Major Sumner stretched between the ground and his daughter’s hair, barely keeping her from falling but unable to grasp her sufficiently to lower her to the ground. Hence the furious shouting. Men despised helplessness.

There was no point in explaining that a little girl did not know how to grasp leathers and climb back up from whence she’d fallen, as her father was encouraging her to do. Tucking the back of her skirt into the front of her petticoat ribbons, Harriet hastened up the ladder into the loft as she often did at home.

“If you tug the strap, she will fall!” Lucas warned from below. “And you are likely to fall with her.”

“I know my limitations,” Harriet retorted, stripping off her gloves. “Verity’s coming down. Stand under her and grab for her shoulders.” She found the buckle the little imp had wrapped around the beam and carefully undid it, hanging on to the leather with all her strength. “Verity, reach for your father because I cannot hold this for long.”

Verity shrieked. Lucas yelled. And the harness whipped from Harriet’s hands, leaving a burned streak across her palms. Shaking, Harriet closed her eyes, too terrified to see if she’d killed them both.

Verity began weeping loudly. Probably frightened out of her mind. Lucas scolded. Not the best of reactions for either, but at least she knew they were alive. Opening her eyes again, Harriet attempted the ladder, only now realizing how very unladylike she would appear with her stockings and garters exposed.

A strong arm caught her waist and lifted her free of the ladder. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

She did, and Lucas swung her to the ground, while keeping a tearful Verity tucked under his other arm. The man’s brains were in his brawn.

She liked the feel of his brawn a little too well. Shaking now that the incident was done, she wanted to bury her face in his big shoulder and weep out her fear as Verity was doing.

Lucas had apparently removed his frock coat after church and was in only waistcoat and shirt. She could smell his shaving soap and the manly aroma of his skin. While she fought back tears, he held her a little longer than was necessary, steadying himself as well as her.

Apparently realizing that fact at the same moment as she, he released her waist, but then remained uncertain what to do with the hysterical child he’d so rudely tucked under his other arm.

“Verity, sweetheart,” Harriet murmured, still shaken but unable to resist a sobbing child. “Give over.” She slid her arms around the girl and lifted her away from Lucas. “Verity, you terrified us. You have no idea how much it hurts your father when he thinks you’re in pain or danger. He can’t cry as you do, so he has to yell and shout.”