The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

Lady Invisible Patricia Rice

Cotswolds — 1816

“‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife,’” quoted Mrs Higglebottom, the vicar’s wife, reading from the novel on her husband’s desk.

Ill at ease, Major Lucas Sumner stretched his shoulders against the confinement of his civilian attire. He had hoped Reverend Higglebottom might be available for consultation. He did not remember the vicar’s wife being quite so … enigmatic … in her younger days. They’d both grown up here among the rolling hills of Chipping Bedton, but Lucas obviously had been away too long. He must adjust his military sense of order to village idiosyncrasies.

“My fortune is a major’s pension and a small inheritance,” Lucas corrected. “I am in want of a wife because I have a daughter in need of a mother.”

Mrs H. — Lorena, as he’d known her — waved a careless, plump hand. “The extent of your fortune does not matter these days. The village has lost most of its available young men to war and to the city and to marriage. You can have a choice of ladies, from fifteen to fifty, I daresay. The task is to find the right one.”

“Well, yes, that is why I thought I would consult with Edgar—”

“Edgar did not grow up here as we did,” Lorena admonished. “My husband has a worthy, virtuous mind, but not necessarily one connected to the realities of life. Women are far better at matchmaking than men.”

Lucas granted that possibility. He’d married in haste as a young man, and the result was currently uprooting daffodils from graves in the churchyard, if he did not mistake.

With an apology, he rose, pushed up the vicar’s study window, and shouted, “Verity! Stop that at once. Where is your aunt?”

His seven-year-old hoyden waved a bunch of yellow flowers and dashed off. Lucas could only hope it was in the direction of his much-put-upon sister.

“I have a lot to account for in this life,” he said, striding back to the chair. “Verity’s mother died far too young, and I’ve neglected my daughter’s upbringing. Now that the war is done and I’ve come home, it’s time I find a mother for Verity who can teach her to be a lady and turn my bachelor household into a home.”

Lorena nodded and consulted the list she’d evidently drawn up in anticipation of his visit. “Jane Bottoms is still unmarried. She’s a bit long in the tooth, but a very respectable, proper sort.”

Lucas tugged at his neckcloth. He remembered Jane. Thick as a brick, they used to call her. “My daughter needs someone a little more—”

Lorena cut him off, as she seemed to do regularly. “Yes, yes, of course. Verity would tie her to a tree and forget about her. How about Mary Loveless? She’s a bit plump and her mother tends to dictate …” She caught Lucas’ eye and hurriedly looked at the list again.

Impatiently, Lucas snapped the paper from her hand and scanned the names. “Harriet Briggs is still unmarried?” he exclaimed in amazement. “How is that possible? She’s the Squire’s daughter and had a dozen beaux before I left, but she was much too young to be interested in any of them.”

Lorena crossed her plump hands on the battered desk. “She is still not interested in any of them. She has not changed since the child you remember. You need a mature, proper lady to teach your daughter manners. Harriet is totally unsuitable.”

This time Lucas was the one to interrupt. “I remember her as a spirited little thing. Perhaps she was a bit of a tomboy riding to the hounds because her father never told her no, but she could argue intelligently. Verity needs a smart woman to guide her.”

Lorena vehemently shook her head. “Now that her mother has passed on and all feminine influence is lost, Harriet has become quite impossible. Rumour has it that she called off two perfectly respectable arrangements while she was in London, even though her looks are nothing to brag about.” She shook her head and cut herself off. “Her father has refused to give her another season.”

Lucas conjured a mental image of Miss Harriet Briggs the last time he’d seen her, when she wasn’t quite sixteen. He had been twenty and sporting his newly purchased officer’s colours. He’d been home to say farewells to family and strutting about in hopes his new uniform would impress the ladies.

The Squire’s daughter had been sitting on the doorstep of one of the village houses, showing a youngster how to feed a baby pig. She had not been impressed by his uniform but had appreciated his aid when the pig had squirmed free. They’d had a rational discourse on the care and feeding of abandoned farm animals, a conversation that he could not imagine having with any other female of his acquaintance.

Hope surged, despite Lorena’s warning. His household was in dire need of the discipline a lady could bring to it.

“She must be twenty-three or twenty-four by now?” In the eight years of his absence Harriet should have grown into her lanky limbs at least. Lucas didn’t think he’d care for a skinny woman, although a mother for Verity should be more important than attractiveness.

Well, perhaps not, or he’d have hired a nanny. So he needed a wife who appealed to him, as well as a mother for Verity. Doubt crept in at the seeming impossibility of that task. Perhaps he should have gone wife-hunting in London.

His sister should not have to deal with Verity while he danced through society. There had to be someone local, who would want to live here and raise his child among his family.

“Harriet should be a good age for looking after a child.” A man of action and decision, Lucas rose from the chair. “I don’t think anyone younger would be up to the challenge.”

Lorena looked harassed. “No, really, Lucas. Don’t be foolish. I do not wish to speak ill … Look, here is Elizabeth. She’s an extremely attractive young lady …”

Having made up his mind — and worried that Verity would be digging up the dead next — Lucas was already halfway out the door when Lorena leaped up, waving the list. “And Mary Dougal! Mature, quiet, and very lovely …”

“I will consider them all, of course,” Lucas said, making his bow, although he privately thought Elizabeth to be a simpering ninny and Mary Dougal to be a pinchpenny prude. Verity was a bright child. She needed a disciplined woman up to the challenge of taming her. And a patient one to ease them into their new domestic routines.

“I told you not to climb the trees!” he roared, after departing the vicarage. He crossed the cemetery in long strides to where his sister stared upwards in dismay. He could see the bright blue of his daughter’s gown several limbs from the ground. “Come down from there at once, you little monkey.”

He nearly had failure of the heart when Verity’s small foot slipped and missed the branch below her. Without a second’s thought, he swung up on the lowest limb, heedless of his best trousers, caught Verity by the waist, and lowered her to Maria.

“I have three of my own, Lucas,” his sister called back. “I cannot do this much longer. You should hire a circus trainer.”

“I am amazed you did not hire her out to a zoo before this,” he said in exasperation as the child took off running before he could climb down. “Does she never speak?”

Maria shrugged and followed Verity across the church lawn at a slower pace. “She can talk if she must. Mostly, she does what she wants rather than ask, because she knows she’ll be told no. I have three young boys. It’s all I can do to keep up with them. I hate to burden you, Lucas, but now that you’re home safe and sound, she’s your responsibility.”

“I agree. And someday I hope to repay you if possible. You have been a saint, and I don’t know what we would have done without you.” He caught up with Verity when she stopped to pet a shaggy mutt. She was no longer a toddler for Lucas to heave over his shoulder and carry off as he had the few times he’d been home when she’d been younger. He’d missed almost her entire childhood.

“Your safe return is payment enough,” Maria promised. “If you never go to war again and can provide a home for Verity, that will ensure our happiness.”

Lucas thought of his sister’s request as he knocked at Squire Briggs’ door the next afternoon. Now that Napoleon had been routed, he would not be going to war again, but that meant he had no other purpose.

Lucas’ father had died before he could attend Oxford or obtain any type of training. Other than the cottage and the lot it sat on, he had no lands of his own. The only trade he knew was soldiering. It was a problem he must solve after he found a mother for Verity.

Before setting off on this visit to the Squire, he’d left his daughter with Maria, had his hair properly barbered, and had his old cutaway coat with the broad lapels brushed and pressed. And still he squirmed like a raw lad on the brink of courtship.

He had been far too young to have encountered Squire Briggs regularly before he’d left for war, so he didn’t know the man well. The unfamiliarity of civilian life threw him off balance, forcing him to recall that he had earned his major’s stripes and fought battles far worse than the encounter ahead.

A maid led Lucas inside to a fusty parlour in dire need of a lady’s care. He frowned over that. Even if Lady Briggs had been deceased for some years, should not Miss Briggs have directed the servants in cleaning? Or at least replaced the cat-tattered pillows?

Cat hair was everywhere. He declined the maid’s offer of a seat.

Lucas liked to do his own reconnaissance and had made several enquiries before setting out on this call. From all reports, Squire Briggs was a hearty man who loved his horses and his hounds. His lands were fertile and well tended, and his tenants spoke well of him. Lack of funds or servants did not explain this lack of order.

The tenants had spoken well of the Squire’s daughter, as well, but with a certain degree of caution. Lucas trusted that was out of respect, but Lorena’s warning rang in his memory.

He heard the Squire roaring at a rambunctious hound somewhere deeper inside the house and smiled to himself, thinking taming a dog was very much like taming Verity. He’d nearly broken his neck falling over her this morning when she’d darted out from under a table on her hands and knees.

“Sumner!” the Squire boomed as he entered the parlour. “Good to see you home, lad! Major now, ain’t ye? Made the town proud, you did. Shame your father is no longer about to brag on you.” He pounded Lucas on the back and gestured towards the door. “C’mon back to m’study. We’ll have a bit of brandy and celebrate your return.”

Brandy was an excellent idea. Lucas thought he needed fortifying before he explained his presence. He was starting to think he should have sought out Harriet first, but he’d forgotten the protocol, if he’d ever known it. How did one woo a lady without going through her parent? He was no dab hand at courtship.

Outside, several hounds gave voice at once, and a woman shouted sharp commands.

The Squire ignored the commotion, reaching for a decanter on a dusty tray. Cat hair seemed less prevalent here, Lucas noticed. An ancient basset lay sprawled and snoring in front of the empty grate.

“You’re a military man. What do you know of hounds and hunting?” the Squire enquired, handing Lucas a glass.

“A great deal, as it happens, sir. I’ve spent the better part of these last years on horseback, chasing enemies wilier than foxes.”

Outside, the dogs howled louder, and a screech resembling a brawl between penned pigs and enraged hawks ensued. The woman’s shouts escalated.

Lucas had begun to wonder if he shouldn’t investigate, when Briggs threw open a sash of his double study window and shouted, “Harriet, get them damned hounds back in the pen where they belong and shoot the peacocks!”

Lucas blinked. Things had changed mightily if one shouted at young ladies these days and ordered them to perform a stable hand’s duty.

In coming here, he’d had some vision of a benevolent, ladylike Harriet gliding into the room carrying a tea tray and somehow divining why he’d called. After all, Lorena had said he was an eligible catch, and the Squire’s daughter was the most eligible female around. The purpose of his call should be obvious.

Perhaps he should have listened a little more closely to Lorena.

A childish shriek raised the hair on the back of his neck. Lucas dashed to the other window and threw open the second sash.

“Dash it all, Harry, I told you to get them hounds back in the barn!” the Squire was shouting in frustration while Lucas scanned the grounds for some sight of the origin of the childish scream. “We’ve got a guest! You need to get back in here.”

A pair of peahens and a cock flapped around three baying beagles, who were racing around the base of an oak as if they’d treed a squirrel.

Surrounded by the circling hounds and birds, a slender female in honey-coloured riding habit, with the skirt scandalously rucked up to reveal her tall boots, and her jacket missing, smacked the snout of the nearest dog. Lucas couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the animals crouched down and wagged their tails in anticipation of some treat.

The wildly colourful birds scattered to alight on various bits of shrubbery.

The young lady turned her uncovered head upwards to study the tree’s branches, and Lucas’ gut lurched. His gaze followed hers.

The child he had thought he’d left securely at his sister’s house was instead perched on the lowest limb of the oak, swinging her toes and watching the dogs, probably with interest, if he knew his daughter. The earlier scream had been for effect. Verity was fearless.

“Verity Augusta, get down from there this instant!” Lucas roared, heedless of the Squire’s startled reaction.

“That your young one?” Briggs asked. “What the devil is she doing in my tree?”

“As if I know what goes through her mind,” Lucas muttered, pulling his head back in the window. “I’d best prise her down and take her home.”

“Harry can do it.” Briggs stuck his head back out the window again and roared, “Harriet, bring the girl inside to her papa.”

The half-dressed lady sent her father what appeared to Lucas to be a look of exasperation, before crouching down to scratch the hounds and sending them scampering towards the kennel.

Verity, on the other hand, climbed to her feet and appeared to be considering the next highest branch.

Lucas didn’t think shouting at the females had put a dent in their behaviour.

If he’d had an undisciplined soldier who disobeyed him like that … He’d already confined Verity to quarters without result, and he couldn’t court-martial her. And he’d never resort to whipping. How did one command loyalty and obedience from a female?

As if in answer to his guest’s unspoken question, the Squire poured their brandies, handed Lucas one and said, “Never understand women. Contrary lot, don’t know what’s good for them. Don’t suppose you’ve come to take Harry off my hands, have you? Good girl, but damned if I can make her see sense.”

Lucas took a healthy swallow of his drink. Did he need two contrary females on his hands? He thought not, but he was a man who required information before making a life-altering decision. Discipline could be instilled in anyone, eventually.

This wife-getting business was more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“After all these years, I can’t say that I know Miss Briggs well,” Lucas replied circumspectly. “It would be a pleasure to become reacquainted.”

Briggs snorted again and leaned back in his chair. “I offered a handsome dowry, told everyone that she will inherit all I own someday, and she still garnered only two offers in London. And she turned those down. Take her off my hands, and you’ll be the son I never had.”

Studying the lady’s attire, Lucas suffered an uneasy notion that Harriet wanted to be the son her father never had.

Harriet Briggs tilted her head back to admire the small girl straddling the oak branch above her head. “The dogs didn’t frighten you, did they?” she enquired with interest.

The child shook her mop of orange curls vigorously. “I like trees.”

“And is there some reason you like this particular tree?”

The child didn’t answer, but Harriet had a strong suspicion the reason stood in her father’s study window. Tall, broad-shouldered and wearing his bottle-green swallowtail coat as if it were a military uniform, the gentleman had arrived only shortly before the child. Both had walked, so they could not live too far away.

Harriet had seen the child in church on Sundays with Maria Smith and her brood of boys. She’d been told the girl was the boys’ cousin, but Harriet and Maria were a decade apart in age and never close, so she didn’t know more than gossip.

As far as Harriet knew, though, Maria’s only sibling was Lucas Sumner. She tried to find a resemblance to Lucas in the child’s oval face, but it had been too many years since she’d seen her childhood idol. She was long past the age of believing in human deities anyway. Children developed foolish fantasies, and she was firmly grounded in reality these days.

Blifil, the lame kitten, suddenly tumbled from the boxwoods, chasing after Partridge, her tame squirrel. The squirrel dashed up her skirt and into the tree, much to the child’s startlement. Harriet prayed the girl didn’t fall before she got her down.

“Do you have a name?” Harriet asked, ignoring her father’s bellows from the window. Really, he ought to know by now that she wouldn’t shout back like a field hand.

“My name is Verity. You’re Miss Harriet, aren’t you?” the child asked, proving she was observant for her age.

“I am. If you climb down from there, we can have tea and biscuits. Do you like kittens?” She swept Blifil from the ground before he could follow the squirrel.

“My papa will make me go home if I climb down. He told my Aunt Maria he needs a wife to take care of me, and I want to see who he picks.”

She stopped there, as if that said everything. Which it did, Harriet supposed, fighting a shiver of expectation and annoyance. Lucas had always been smart. He would seek out the wealthiest available woman in the neighbourhood before looking at the less eligible or the more beautiful. She was simply surprised he wasn’t looking in London instead of Chipping Bedton.

She supposed she would have to watch the last of her childhood illusions crumble. Major Sumner had to be able to see her from the window, so she was probably missing the show already. Would he bluntly express dismay at her unseemly attire and ragged manners? Or bite back his thoughts and just tighten his lips in disapproval over a mature young lady who displayed such inappropriate behaviour? She had little entertainment any more, so perhaps she could drum some up at the Major’s expense.

“I’ll tell your papa you’re my guest so he can’t send you home,” she told the child. “I’m a bit peckish and would like a sandwich with my tea, I believe. Do you think I might help you down?”

The child considered the suggestion, then finally nodded. “I climb like a monkey, my papa says.” Before Harriet was prepared, Verity caught the branch she sat on and swung her feet loose.

Dropping the kitten, Harriet tried not to gasp in terror as the girl trustingly fell into her arms. Harriet had watched her creatures perform dangerous acrobatics, but she’d never endured the terror of a human child risking death in such a manner. Major Sumner had his hands full with this one.

Staggering slightly as she lowered the child’s chunky body to firm land, Harriet suffered a brief glimpse of what it must be like to love and care for a precious, fragile life. It was difficult enough tending to a wounded pet. She didn’t think she could tolerate seeing a child hurt.

Really, she had nothing to worry about. She need only meet Lucas, let him see how utterly unsuitable she was, and go about her merry way. Her father and the tenants and the animals needed her. She had a very full life without an annoying man providing obstacles, objecting to everything she did or wanted. It was not as if she needed a man for anything. And she already had one yelling impossible orders all day long. She certainly didn’t require another. Taking a deep breath to settle her racing pulse, she swung Verity’s hand and was smiling when she entered the study where the men waited. Her confidence faltered a little at sight of the tall, immaculately dressed gentleman nearly filling the furniture-stuffed room.

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.”

Lucas snorted rudely, as she had once done, and Harriet shot him a retaliatory look. He rubbed his hands through his already dishevelled hair, like a man who had reached his last tether.

Verity flung her skinny arms around Harriet’s neck and buried her runny nose in the pretty sprigged muslin. Too rattled to care, Harriet rocked her and patted her on the back as if Verity were a babe. Her arms ached with the weight, but Lucas had not yet learned to comfort his daughter. Someone must teach him.

Calming down enough to learn his lesson, he lifted Verity from Harriet’s arms. “You scared me out of ten years’ growth, child. Whatever were you doing up there?”

Verity sniffed and rubbed her nose on his waistcoat and finally wrapped her arms around her father’s neck long enough to stop sobbing. Harriet thought perhaps she ought to sneak out now that the two were learning to get on, but she was interested in hearing Verity’s reply.

“I wanted to be big!” she wailed. “Davy said he stretched his arms big by swinging on ropes, so I wanted to swing!”

“Oh, dear.” Miss Briggs snickered and turned away, as if to depart.

Holding Verity in one arm, Lucas caught his saviour’s elbow with his free hand. His heart still hadn’t stopped attempting to escape his chest at the sight of his daughter hanging upside down in danger of breaking her neck.

If Miss Briggs had not come along, he would have had to learn to fly. He’d never seen a more level-headed, courageous lady, and even if she was a tart-tongued hoyden, he needed her. Verity needed her.

“Don’t go.” He tried not to plead, but he could see disaster written on his future unless he kept this woman with him. “We haven’t thanked you. I don’t suppose it’s proper to invite you in for tea.” He hated being uncertain but he was too overwrought at the moment to care. He just didn’t want her to go until his heart stopped pounding in his ears.

“I think it might be a good idea for Verity to go inside and wash up and lie down for a little while. Keeping up with her cousins is very tiring.”

Davy was one of Verity’s older cousins. Lucas caught the lady’s implication. He’d left his baby girl to compete with three older male cousins. His fault. Everything was his fault. It was up to him to undo what he had wrought.

“We will be just a minute,” he told her, looking for some way to persuade her to stay. “There is some pie left. We can eat it under the tree, where everyone can see we are very respectable.” He started for the house, trying not to notice as Miss Briggs brushed her skirt and petticoat back where they belonged.

She had long, lovely legs.

And shapely arms that cuddled a child the way he wouldn’t mind being held.

He wondered if Miss Briggs might ever rest her head against his shoulder as Verity did. That wasn’t a proper or respectable thought.

“I don’ wanna take a nap.” Verity hiccupped on her protest.

“Just lie down and rest your eyes a little,” Miss Briggs said soothingly, matching Lucas’ stride with ease. “And if you’re good and rest long enough, I’ll have a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“A surprise?” Verity lifted her damp cheeks. “For me?”

“Yes, just for you. Are you big enough to run upstairs and wash and take off your dress or do you need help?”

“I’m big enough!” Verity pushed off Lucas’ shoulders and wriggled to get down. When he let her go, she raced ahead of them.

“I’ve never seen her hurry so to take a nap,” he said wryly. “I hope you really do have a surprise for her.”

“You’ll hate it, but I do. She needs to feel she’s important, so I brought her a kitten. Learning to take care of a pet will teach her that others rely on her, and that she’s very important, indeed. But you’ll have to put up with the mess.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said accusingly, steering her towards the tea table his mother had set up beneath the beech tree.

“Perhaps, only a little, because I’m still quaking in my shoes. She could have been killed!” Miss Briggs wailed, almost collapsing into the chair he held for her.

“Exactly my thought twenty times a day. Wait here, and I’ll bring out the cups and things, after I see Verity into bed. Did you leave the kitten in front?” At her nod, he made a mental note to fetch it. He doubted Verity’s ability to take care of a kitten, but his heart warmed that Miss Briggs had thought of her.

He could foresee cat hairs in his future, but Verity was more important than tidiness. Somehow, he must learn to rearrange his priorities.

His daughter had already stripped off her grubby and ruined Sunday dress and was splashing cold water as if she were a duck at play. Lucas scrubbed off some of the grime on her face and hands and watched her climb between the covers, before returning downstairs to the kitchen and setting on a kettle of tea. He supposed he should have done that first. He needed to hire a maid to think of these things, but it seemed awkward unless he had a wife first. He missed his batman.

He had imagined a sweet little woman ordering his household about, one who smiled cheerfully and arranged for delightful meals to appear on the table and pottered about keeping order, until it was time for her to come up to his bed. He could see now that his imagination was considerably rosier than actuality, rather like his youthful idea of war.

Life had a habit of not living up to his expectations. He could not even live up to his own. In the military, it had been relatively simple to follow orders, understand his men and take action. Women, on the other hand, were a mysterious universe he might never comprehend. How did he persuade one that he needed her without sounding desperate?

Remembering the kitten, he stopped at the front to pick up the basket. It smelled of lavender and sported pink ribbons and a little black nose was pushing aside a gingham cloth. He hoped it was a male cat or he’d be outnumbered.

Carrying basket and tea tray, Lucas geared up his considerable courage to approach the intrepid Miss Harriet Briggs. He needed a wife who could rescue children from barns more than he needed a lady to look pretty and make tea. He simply had to find some way of asking her

Harriet thought about running and hiding before Lucas returned. Just the fact that she was thinking of him as Lucas instead of Major Sumner spoke much of the familiarity of her thoughts.

She had no mirror and couldn’t straighten out the frizzy mess her hair had become when the pins loosened in her climb. She shoved as much as she could inside her bonnet, then discovered she’d left her gloves in the barn. Her hands were bare, revealing her broken nails and dirt from the leather. She was an unmitigated hoyden, just as her father claimed.

Fine, then, she had nothing about which to worry. Major Sumner would not be interested in anyone as indecorous as she, so she could simply sip tea and discuss Verity’s welfare.

She hurried to rescue him from tea tray and kitten as soon as he appeared. She couldn’t help her heart from making an odd leap at the sight of the big strong man biting his lip while attempting to balance tray and swinging kitten basket at the same time. Even though he’d properly donned his Sunday cutaway coat and looked beyond dashing, the self-confident Major wasn’t quite as intimidating or perfect in domesticity.

She had already dusted off the old table and now used the gingham from the kitten basket to cover it before she set the tray down. “Is Verity all settled in?” she asked nervously when he hovered too close, forcing awareness of how large he was. He’d lifted her from the ladder, while holding Verity! Her heart did another little jig.

“I think she was frightened enough to be glad of a moment alone.”

“She’s a bright child, with a strong imagination. Once you learn of what she’s capable, you’ll enjoy her company, Major Sumner,” Harriet said stiltedly. She’d been to London and had learned to make polite small talk with gentlemen about the weather and the music and the company. She’d never had to pretend restraint in the village. Until now.

“Please, call me Lucas. I am no longer in the Army and, after this episode, I would like to call you friend, if I might.”

She nodded and poured the tea, aware of how ugly her hands looked. “I am Harriet, although everyone calls me Harry. I fear my name is as unladylike as I am.”

“Ladylike is not a quality useful in dealing with Verity, I fear.” He sat uncomfortably in the small wrought-iron chair. Even the teacup looked frail and useless in his hand.

Harriet winced at his unintended insult and sipped her tea. She was good at caring for animals but not so quick at witticism. Still, she tried. “Real ladies would not be so inclined to ruck up their dresses and climb ladders,” she agreed with innocence.

He nodded. “That is precisely what I mean. Action and quick thinking is what is required around Verity. Polite manners and pretty dresses are irrelevant.”

Thinking polite manners might prevent her from dumping the tea over his head for implying she wasn’t a lady because she could think, Harriet bit back an impolite retort. “I daresay ladies are irrelevant on all counts,” she agreed maliciously. “They are merely decorative, are they not? Rather like stained-glass windows. Perhaps they should be left in church.”

He looked startled. Instead of replying, he apparently made a hasty reassessment of their exchange. “I did not mean to imply—”

“Oh, no need to apologise.” She waved away whatever he meant to say. “I’m aware of my shortcomings. Instead of sitting prettily in my parlour, I climb in haylofts and trees. I shout at dogs. I crawl about in henhouses. I will never be considered decorative, by any means!”

“As you say, decorative is for churches. I’d much rather see a woman who isn’t afraid to help a child or an animal.” He said it uneasily, as if afraid he was walking into a trap.

“One who argues,” she suggested, listing her many flaws. “And speaks up for herself. You do not prefer polite, pretty ladies who demurely nod their heads and make men swoon with a smile.”

“Exactly,” he said, apparently pleased that she understood his requirements. “I hope I am not being too forward. When I went to your father, it was because I remembered you with fondness and hoped to press my suit. But Verity … Verity does not make it easy for me to court in a traditional manner. You are a woman of exceptional understanding. I would like to call on you, if I might be so bold.”

“You wish to call on a woman who is not a lady, one who argues and rudely rucks up her skirts and isn’t remotely attractive enough to be decorative?” she asked in feigned astonishment, raising her eyebrows. “I think not, sir. You may call on me when Verity needs rescuing again, perhaps. Until then, I give you good day.”

Ribbons bedraggled from being crushed by an unthinking military man, Harriet rose from her chair and, head held high, sailed from the yard with bits of straw stuck to her crumpled muslin.

Dropping his best visiting coat over a chair, Lucas rubbed his aching head. After an hour of listening to Miss Elizabeth Baker and a few of her dearest friends prattle in high-pitched voices about London fashion and the best teacakes, he was ready to stick his head in a bucket to clean out his ears. He was evidently not meant for feminine company.

He stared morosely out the kitchen door at the fields separating his cottage from the Briggs’ estate. He wished he understood the feminine mind. He’d thought he and Miss Briggs had reached a level where they could talk honestly. He’d hoped …

But she’d thought he was insulting her, when he thought he’d been showering her with fevered compliments and his genuine delight at finding a sympathetic ear. He had porridge for brains.

He’d sent round a note of apology. He’d asked the vicar to put in a word for him. He’d spoken to the Squire himself. But nothing had worked. They muttered platitudes about Miss Harriet coming around in her own time. But she was never at home when he called.

He sighed as he watched his daughter climb the back fence to gather wildflowers from the field. Verity apparently had a passion for flowers. He didn’t know one from another. A woman could help Verity grow a garden. He didn’t even know where to acquire seeds.

Perhaps he could ask Miss Briggs how one went about finding flower seeds. He could help Verity collect a bouquet, tie a ribbon about it and deliver it as a peace offering. Or gratitude for the kitten wrecking the furniture. Verity adored the creature.

He could practise a few compliments, although he felt a fool telling her she had eyes the colour of the sky and skin as soft as silk. She did, but he didn’t know how to say that.

After spending an hour in the company of the village ladies, Lucas knew of a certainty that Miss Briggs was the only local woman who met his needs, all his needs. He could hire a maid to clean cat hair. He could not hire an intelligent, desirable wife, one who could keep up with Verity and not drive him mad with inanities.

He saw no reason to give up on the woman he wanted, if all that parted them was his thickheaded pride and her damnably sensitive feelings. He would not have made major had he given up and simply obeyed orders instead of thinking for himself. Which was what Miss Briggs had been telling him — although he had difficulty applying such leadership to women. He’d learn.

The day was warm and there was no sense in making his laundry more difficult by dirtying a coat while hunting flowers. With no one about to see him, he abandoned his coat and followed Verity into the field.

Verity looked up in surprise when Lucas leaned over to pick a daffodil. She laughed in delight when he handed it to her. Together, they wandered deep into the field and a wooded area, collecting a ragged assortment of blooms that might make a lady smile. Maybe.

“Do you think we should put a ribbon around these and take them to Miss Harriet?” he asked when Verity seemed to be tiring of the game.

She nodded eagerly. Lucas was about to lift her on his shoulders and carry her back to the house, when he heard an impatient shout. He might be a thickheaded oaf, but he recognized Miss Harriet’s voice.

It was coming from the pasture where the Briggs’ tenant farmer had just loosed his bull.

He shoved the bouquet into Verity’s hands. “Take these back to the house and put them in water. I’ll bring Miss Briggs to visit shortly.”

He didn’t have time to wait and see that she obeyed. He took off at a lope around the fence, racing in the direction of the Briggs’ estate. He had a feeling Miss Harriet was much like Verity, often climbing into situations from which she could not easily be extracted.

The one he found her in caused him to stumble in horror.

The redoubtable Miss Briggs had climbed over a stile on the far side of the field, in apparent pursuit of a puppy. While she was scolding the terrified hound, a ton of beef on the hoof pawed the ground and swung its massive head back and forth behind a bush, where she could not see it. Even the puppy could sense the danger and cowered on its belly amid the grass.

Lucas would strangle the woman if he did not have failure of the heart first.

He had no weapon other than himself. Trotting alongside the fence, he sought to distract the bull from this woman in her unfashionably shortened riding skirts. He waved his arms to catch the animal’s attention and, when that was not sufficient, he climbed the fence and sat atop the rail, roaring curses.

Astonished, Miss Harriet looked up at his odd behaviour, then turned to follow his gaze. Her eyes widened as she glanced behind her to the bull pawing the ground.

Lucas nearly fell off the rail when she grabbed the pup, and the bull snorted and lowered his head at her motion.

“Don’t move!” he shouted at her. “He’s just looking for an excuse to attack.”

“I can’t very well stand here for the rest of my life,” she retorted, holding the wriggling pup.

“It will be a very short life if you move.” Too furious and terrified to be polite, Lucas leaped off the fence and began running around the bull’s rump, away from Miss Briggs.

The bull swung its head in his direction, bellowed and charged.

Running for his life, and Harriet’s, Lucas raced across the corner of the enclosed field, reaching the hedge on the other side with the bull’s hot breath on his neck. Grabbing a hawthorn branch that gave beneath his weight, he vaulted across the wizened limbs — into a mud puddle on the other side of the hedgerow.

“Major Sumner, Lucas!”

He heard Harriet’s panicked shouts as he tried to catch his breath after having lost it. Mud puddles were softer than the ground, but not by much.

Dainty ankles exposed, she climbed the stile, her expression gratifyingly concerned. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled for being so careless, but the frightened tears streaking her cheeks dampened his temper. And in the end, she had listened to his orders and stayed still.

Thankfully, she’d used her excellent head to go against his less than clear orders and escape the field the minute it was safe to do so. Dazed, he wondered if he could appoint her to be general of his household. But that wasn’t what he wanted either.

Setting the pup on the ground, she raced to help Lucas up. “I am so sorry, Lucas. You are so brave! I had no idea …”

She was a mess in grubby wool and tousled curls. She was an angel of concern with tears flowing down her cheeks as she offered her bare, broken-nailed fingers to help him up.

He grabbed her hand. Admired her slender form in tawny yellow. Wanted to drive his fingers through her wild curls.

And tugged the hand she offered, yanking her into the mud wallow with him.

“You could have been killed!” he shouted. “Do you never look where you are going? Does it never occur to you that you might be more important than a damned animal?”

She spluttered, shoved her hands against his chest, and glared down at him. “What do you care? I’m just another nuisance who won’t fall in line and behave as I ought!”

He rolled her into the grass beside the mud wallow and swung over her, propping himself on his hands so he could trap her until she heard him out. “I don’t need a field sergeant! Or a decorative piece of church plaster. I need a woman, one who understands Invisible Girls and is willing to put up with Impossible Men. I need a soft woman who cuddles children and lets me pretend I’m useful. I need a woman who looks beautiful with mud in her hair and straw on her hem. And you’re the only damned one I know who fits the bill!”

She blinked, and her heavenly sky-blue eyes stared up at him in wonder. “Me? I am not beautiful. Or decorative,” she reminded him.

“Decorative is useless. Decorative sits about collecting dust. Beautiful is alive and glittering with sunshine and smelling of roses. Don’t make me speak poetry because I don’t know any.”

“I think you just did,” Harriet murmured in awe, watching the passionate play of expressions across Lucas’ strongly masculine face. She had not thought him capable of feeling anything. She had been wrong. He looked like a man in torment. In wonder, she daringly touched his jaw.

His head instantly descended to cover her lips with a kiss that heated her blood in ways she’d never known possible.

When he finally came up for air, his eyes glittered with triumph. “Marry me, Miss Briggs. Show me what I’ve missed all these years.”

Left breathless, she could scarcely gather her thoughts. “I am outside more than I am in. I am not much at supervising the laundry and housekeeping,” she warned, even though she wished to bite her tongue. “And if you are in the habit of dripping mud, I suspect you have a great need for both.”

“I suspect between the three of us, we can use an entire village of servants,” he countered. “I can command the housemaids to clean and you can command the stable boys to muck, if that is your preference.”

“I like animals and children,” she added, heart in her throat, fearful she would drive off the one man she’d ever wanted. “I will look after them before I look after the house.”

Undeterred, he planted kisses across her face. “If you will think of me and Verity as your pets, I will come courting properly. I can buy you candy. I have a bouquet for you back at the house.”

She shook her head, put a finger to her lips, and glanced sideways.

Lucas followed her gaze.

Clutching the ragged bouquet, Verity waited in the shrubbery until they noticed her. Then, holding out the flowers, she said, “Will you marry us, Miss Harriet? We love you.”

Weeping, Harriet flung herself into Lucas’ arms and let him reassure her that finally, finally she had found someone who loved and understood her, and not her dowry.

“We love you, Miss Harriet,” Lucas repeated softly, hugging her as she had longed to be hugged. “Will you love us back?”

And she nodded fiercely, speechless for possibly the first time in her life.