Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 3

Winnie’s heart leapt into her throat at the exact same moment the horses in the pit reared up in the majestic finale. The sensation surprised her. She was rarely aware of her heart anymore, except with Warren.

Mr. Harcourt’s quiet chuckle beside her did nothing to help. She turned sharply to see him clapping, a sweet, almost childlike joy glowing on his face. The expression gave her pause for a moment. What must it feel like to be so free?

The thought made Winnie’s heart shrivel with bitter jealousy. This sensation came much more easily to her. Her free days were long gone, never to return.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked the gentleman, barely trying to keep the bite out of her voice.

Mr. Harcourt looked down at her with a surprising earnestness in his smile. “I am, and I hope you are, too.” He pointedly glanced at his arm, drawing Winnie’s curiosity. She looked, too, and saw that her hand clutched his coat sleeve. She must have grasped onto him during the excitement of the final act.

Winnie swallowed as her pulse quickened under his gaze, flames of embarrassment erupting through her entire body. She pulled her hand back to her lap, faster than lightning. She looked out at the ring again, her cheeks searing. “Yes, I had a fine time,” she snapped. “I am sure you thought it impossible for me to experience the emotion you call fun.”

She prayed with everything in her heart that Mr. Harcourt would not bring up how she had made a fool of herself by grabbing his arm like some simple, cowardly girl. Winnie stiffened her shoulders, bracing herself for the insufferable comment he would surely make.

Yet none came. When Mr. Harcourt did not respond, Winnie dared to glance at him from her peripheral vision. He watched her, his hazel eyes thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, you are quite right,” he admitted quietly.

For some unfathomable reason, his words did not just annoy Winnie—they hurt. This was the kind of person she had become in her effort to give her parents something to be proud of. Instead of being the picture perfect daughter, she had only turned herself into stone.

Mr. Harcourt stood, offering his hand to Winnie. “I truly am glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said, his voice more kind and gentle than she had ever heard. “Everyone needs a bit of fun now and again.”

Winnie gave a dry chuckle as she gingerly wrapped her gloved fingers around his. “You do not have fun every now and again. It seems as though your only goal in life is to have fun without any care for the consequences.”

Mr. Harcourt pulled her arm through his, keeping his hand over hers for a moment. Winnie found herself pressed into his side as they made their way through the throng of excited spectators, all chattering too loudly about the show.

He remained silent as they made their way to the foyer. Winnie’s stomach twisted nervously. Perhaps she really had crossed the line this time. How could this man make her lose all her excruciatingly perfected manners and ladylike poise? She would never speak to someone else like this. Surely Mr. Harcourt deserved it—didn’t he?

“Do you mind waiting outside?” he asked, peering out the window to the street.

“I suppose not,” Winnie agreed reluctantly, fiddling with the ribbon of her bonnet.

As soon as they stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around Winnie, the rising moon casting a magical silver light over everything, including Mr. Harcourt.

Winnie pulled away from the gentleman as soon as they reached the street, dozens of carriages lining up to collect their owners. She turned to face him, working up the will to apologize. Winnie did not necessarily fear that she had hurt his feelings. She feared that he would gossip to his friends about how horrible she was, just as he had done at that dance two years ago, further damaging her reputation. If Mr. Harcourt told this story, she would go from a boring, icy lady to a cruel, hateful woman. That would not win her any love from her parents.

A twinge of guilt pierced Winnie’s chest. Was she not being cruel and hateful?

Mr. Harcourt simply watched patiently as Winnie gathered herself. She stared right back at him, refusing to lower her gaze for a man like him, despite the shame and regret burning inside her. “I apolo—”

“Please, Miss Thirley, there is no need.” Mr. Harcourt held up a hand, his voice just as earnest as it had been earlier. “It is I who must apologize. I am so very sorry about what happened between us before. It was unfair of me to make such assumptions about you after only one carriage ride…” He trailed off, swallowing his pride. “And for later blabbing about you to my friends.” The gentleman visibly cringed at the memory.

Winnie almost felt bad for him. When she remained silent, processing his words, trying to decide if she believed him, Mr. Harcourt quickly continued. “You see, I have been trying to apologize ever since, whenever we happen upon each other in town. Though I will freely admit that I have not done a very good job of it. I cannot say what it is precisely, but something about you makes me forget all my manners,” he finished with a breathless chuckle.

A slightly rosy hue spread across his high cheekbones, causing Winnie’s brows to shoot up in surprise. After all the times he had frustrated her nearly to madness, he truly did seem genuine now. Even his charming, carefree smile could not completely distract from the concern she saw in his eyes.

She had certainly never expected to see this side of him. Something inside her softened toward him—only a little. Winnie drew herself up to her full height, which barely put her at Mr. Harcourt’s shoulder, sticking her chin into the air.

“I am not sure I can forgive you,” she announced firmly.

Mr. Harcourt lowered his head with a rueful smile. “You do not need to. I just wanted you to know what is in my heart.”

A ridiculous thought flashed through Winnie’s mind at his words. She wanted to know what else might be in this strange man’s heart.

“Though I will beg you to stop glaring at me whenever we see each other in public,” he continued with an almost sad chuckle.

Winnie willed her heart to return to its cold, barren home in her chest. She was not used to it jumping around so erratically, so lively. “I promise not to glare at you anymore,” she said with a small smile.

Mr. Harcourt nodded, relief flooding his unfairly handsome face. “Excellent. I am glad that we have finally got that settled.”

Winnie wanted to laugh at his good-natured humor. She forced the sound back down her throat. He had made a nice apology. Unfortunately, that did not change who Mr. Harcourt was at his core—a reckless, thoughtless, irresponsible gentleman. The thought stung slightly. Winnie hated to admit that he did not seem so bad when she stared him in the eyes like this, cheer and happiness dancing over his face.

To Winnie’s great relief, her carriage arrived before she could think of some retort, before her baffling thoughts could run away with her. Mr. Harcourt helped her up into the carriage, his grip on her hand somehow both gentle and firm all at once.

“Until next time, Miss Thirley,” he said with a bright smile as he closed the carriage door.

Winnie sank back into the soft cushions of the seat, the last few minutes racing through her mind in an endless loop. Without knowing why, Winnie sensed that she would never truly be rid of Mr. Harcourt. That was just her luck. As he himself had said, there would surely be a next time. Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress, something like anxiety or anticipation humming all around her.

The ride back to the Thirleys’ home passed by in a blur. She shoved Mr. Harcourt out of her mind, instead conjuring the fantastical feats she had seen during the show. Normally, she did not care for such entertainment. She found it frivolous and gaudy. Yet she had to admit to herself, in the privacy of the carriage, that she had enjoyed it quite a lot.

Perhaps, just as Mr. Harcourt had said, having fun on occasion would suit her just fine. Now that her thoughts had come full circle back to him once more, the gentleman’s face swam through her mind, distracting her from the daring rope-walkers and the incredible gymnasts.

“Ah, welcome home, Miss Thirley,” the kindly butler announced as soon as Winnie walked into the Thirleys’ townhouse. “The mistress requests your presence in the sitting room.”

Mr. Harcourt quickly vanished from Winnie’s mind at the butler’s words. She took in a deep breath, nerves making her stomach flip. “Is everything alright?” Mrs. Thirley rarely summoned her. Could something have happened to Warren?

“Everything is perfectly fine, I assure you.” The butler gave Winnie an understanding smile, which did little to ease her anxiety.

She raced upstairs, holding the hem of her dress up so she would not trip in her haste. When she opened the door to the sitting room, Winnie’s eyes immediately landed on her mother, seated on the couch in the middle of the room as always, reading a book. Her eyes drifted up, briefly falling on Winnie before returning to the page. Tentatively, Winnie slipped into the room toward the couch to sit beside Mrs. Thirley.

“There is no need,” the woman said quietly. “I only have a bit of news to share with you.”

No matter how many times Winnie heard that, or some variation of it, it still ripped at her heart. As stone-like as she tried to make herself, there still existed in her a little piece of softness that wept with the knowledge that her parents no longer loved her.

Winnie nodded stiffly, standing before her mother. “What news might that be?”

Mrs. Thirley’s eyes remained on her book. “Lady Welsted has invited us to spend the summer at their home in Somerset after we have all had our fill of London.”

Winnie froze. She swore even the blood in her veins had gone cold. “Do you mean…the Harcourts?” she sputtered, her mother’s strange words still ringing in her head.

Mrs. Thirley frowned as she flipped to the next page. “Yes, the Harcourts.”

Winnie knew it had been a foolish question. There was only one Lady Welsted, and she was a member of the Harcourt family. She had only asked because she could not quite believe her ears. With Mrs. Thirley’s confirmation, Winnie’s blood roared back to life.

A whole summer under the same roof as Mr. Dalton Harcourt? How would she survive such torture?

A sighof wonder escaped Winnie as soon as her feet hit the gravel driveway. She peered up and around, drinking in the beauty of Attwood Manor. Perhaps this summer would not be so terrible, as long as Mr. Harcourt kept out of her way.

Shy hands clutched at her waist, fingers twisting into the pastel purple fabric of her bodice. Winnie looked over her shoulder to see Warren peering out from behind her. She untangled herself from her brother’s grasp, turning around to face him and gently cupping his cheeks in her hands.

“Everything will be fine, darling. You will have a wonderful summer, I promise,” she whispered with a comforting smile. “Look at everything you can explore here!” She swept an arm out over the breathtaking landscape, from the gorgeous house to the gentle hills to the wide expanse of fields with forest in the distance.

While the Thirley family certainly lived a comfortable lifestyle at their estate, Risin Hall, in Wiltshire, it did not quite have the same luxurious atmosphere as the Harcourts’ Somerset home.

Warren gazed around tentatively, a smile slowly spreading across his face as his eyes traveled over this new landscape. He had never been to Somerset before, and Winnie had only been a young girl the last time she had visited the county. She always enjoyed seeing new places. If only she did not have to deal with Mr. Harcourt tainting her experience.

“I can really explore all this?” the boy asked quietly, the pitch of his voice shooting up in his excitement.

Winnie’s heart melted as it always did around her younger brother. She could see all the adventures he longed to have sparkling in his eyes. Winnie prayed that Warren would indeed have a wonderful summer, just as she had promised—even if it was excruciating for her. As always, she would do her best to make that a reality for him.

“Warren, dear,” Mrs. Thirley called from near the front steps, holding her hand out for her son. Warren skipped forward and took the outstretched hand. Mr. and Mrs. Thirley led the way up the steps of Attwood Manor, Warren between them, while Winnie followed.

As soon as they stepped inside, Winnie once again found herself at a loss for words. The grand foyer stretched up high above them, beautiful artwork adorning the walls, a magnificent staircase leading up to the next floor. She certainly would not mind exploring this place more.

Unfortunately, Winnie did not have much time to dwell in her wonder. The butler quickly led them upstairs to the drawing room, the Thirley family filing in one by one. Winnie’s eyes fell on Mr. Harcourt first. He stared out the far window, facing away from the new arrivals, hands clasped behind his back. He looked surprisingly stately. When he turned around as the butler announced the Thirleys, that familiar nonchalant smile on his face, Winnie changed her mind. The same old annoyance came rushing back in full force. This summer would prove extremely challenging indeed.

Winnie’s family made their rounds, greeting each Harcourt in turn, all the way from Lord Welsted down to the youngest Harcourt, a girl named Harriet who was just a few years older than Warren, though already a head taller. Miss Harriet seemed even more wild than her eldest brother, something Winnie had not thought possible.

The oldest of the Harcourt children, now Mrs. Waynford, lingered near Winnie as everyone else drifted off to rest and chat. “Miss Thirley, would you join me on the couch?” she asked gently, her words a beautifully warm contrast to Mr. Harcourt’s brash tone.

The woman’s genuinely sweet smile put Winnie at ease. She nodded and followed Mrs. Waynford, admiring the grace with which she held herself. At least one of Mr. Harcourt’s relatives seemed suited to Winnie. Much to her relief, Mr. Harcourt kept to the other side of the room, conversing with Lady Welsted and the beautiful young lady Winnie had seen at the dinner party nearly two months ago, Miss Caroline Harcourt.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Mrs. Waynford’s quiet voice reminded Winnie that she must ignore Mr. Harcourt’s grating presence as best she could if she wanted to make the most of her time at Attwood Manor.

Winnie returned her attention to her new acquaintance, feeling herself go white for a fraction of a second. Mrs. Waynford’s eyes darted from her younger brother to Winnie, sparkling with interest. The younger woman fervently prayed that Mrs. Waynford would keep her thoughts to herself in regards to whatever she thought she had just seen.

“Very pleasant indeed,” Winnie finally answered, smoothing out her features back to their calm, emotionless facade.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Waynford’s smile shone with a soft brightness, quite the opposite of Mr. Harcourt’s brazen grin. “I do hope you will have a lovely time here. My husband and I will be staying for part of the summer before we return to our home in Essex, so I am sure you and I will have many opportunities to get to know one another.”

Winnie finally let a small smile crack through her neutral expression. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

After a few more minutes of pleasant chatting with Mrs. Waynford, Winnie felt more and more certain that she would have at least one like-minded person in this house she could be comfortable with. Soon, Miss Harcourt joined them on the couch. Winnie felt herself tense slightly when the younger woman sat beside her. After observing her from afar at the dinner party, Winnie thought she noticed quite a few similarities between Miss Harcourt and her older brother.

“Miss Thirley, it is so lovely to see you again,” Miss Harcourt started, her voice rising and falling at just the right times, the epitome of ladylike elegance. “Please do let me know if there is anything I can help with to make your stay more enjoyable—such as shielding you from my overly charming brother,” she added in a playful whisper.

Without realizing it, Winnie found herself slowly slipping into a comfortable discussion with the two women. She found Miss Harcourt to be much more bearable than her older brother, though they shared similarly affable personalities, glittering smiles, and confident wit.

After a few relaxing hours, the group broke apart as Lord Welsted asked Mr. Thirley to join him in his study while Lady Welsted called for more tea for the women.

“Mama, can I go outside?” Miss Harriet asked, tapping her fingers on the arm of her mother’s chair.

“You may, as long as Dalton accompanies you.” The baroness smoothed down some of the girl’s dark blonde hair, her eyes shining with love for her daughter.

A dull pain seized Winnie’s chest as she watched the sweet display. At one point in time, her own mother had looked at her like that. It had been so long ago that Winnie could barely remember what that had felt like. Or perhaps she had only imagined her parents’ love. Perhaps they had never cared for her at all.

The sound of shifting fabric pulled Winnie’s attention away from those useless thoughts. She knew better than to dwell on such matters. There was no point in agonizing over what could not be changed. She looked toward the sound and noticed that Mr. Patrick, the second youngest Harcourt child, had moved positions in his chair. He read quietly, his eyes flying over the page of the book in his hands. He certainly seemed more refined than his brother.

Winnie noticed Warren lingering by Mrs. Thirley’s chair, nervously eyeing the energetic Miss Harriet. She quietly assured Mrs. Waynford and Miss Harcourt that she would return shortly before crossing the room to her brother. Mrs. Thirley paid her daughter no mind, engrossed in her conversation with Lady Welsted.

“Warren, would you like to join Miss Harriet outside?” Winnie asked gently, patting the boy’s shoulder.

His brows furrowed in a surprisingly mature expression as he watched Miss Harriet tug at Mr. Harcourt’s arm, begging him to follow her so she could enjoy some freedom out of doors. Warren looked up at Winnie with great concern in his round eyes, shaking his head. Winnie smiled understandingly, brushing back a few strands of hair that had flown out of place with his vigorous rejection of his sister’s idea. She knew he would warm up eventually.

“Do you like stories, Master Thirley?” the younger Harcourt son asked from his seat. Warren’s face lit up as he eagerly crossed the room to Mr. Patrick’s chair in the far corner.

Winnie gave the young man an appreciative smile, noticing Mr. Harcourt from the corner of her eye. To her great surprise, he watched Mr. Patrick and Warren with something that looked quite like shame. The possibility shocked Winnie. She turned away, suddenly feeling as though she had seen something deeply private. As she resumed her seat between Mrs. Waynford and Miss Harcourt, Winnie could not help wondering what lay behind that unexpected expression.

“Well, everyone seems to be sorted out now,” Mr. Harcourt announced, his cheerful voice carrying no trace of the pain Winnie had just seen. “Shall I find us an adventure, dear sister?”

“Not if I find one first,” the girl sang, grinning up at her oldest brother.

Another twinge of interest gave Winnie pause again. The gentleman looked at Miss Harriet so differently than he had at Mr. Patrick. His warm eyes stared down at his youngest sibling with complete adoration. With Miss Harriet’s hand in his, Mr. Harcourt strode from the room, all confidence and glee.

Winnie only made it through another cup of tea before excusing herself for some fresh air. Despite finding both Mrs. Waynford and Miss Harcourt to be lovely companions thus far, Winnie secretly hoped they would not ask to join her.

“Anna, will Beth be awake now? Do you think she would be interested in a visit from her favorite aunt?” Miss Harcourt asked her older sister before turning her attention back to Winnie. “I am so sorry, Miss Thirley. Normally I would offer to accompany you, but the bonnet that goes with this dress has a dreadfully torn ribbon, and I just have not had time yet to replace it.”

Winnie could not help smiling at the young woman’s reasoning. Though Winnie did not usually fret too much over her clothing and accessories, she could already tell that Miss Harcourt was the type of woman to never be seen without the right bonnet or pair of gloves or parasol. “I quite understand, Miss Harcourt,” Winnie offered with a chuckle.

“Of course she would love to see you,” Mrs. Waynford agreed, her eyes aglow at the mention of her precious baby. “Though do not let Harriet hear you claiming the title of favorite aunt. She will not let that one go so easily.”

The sisters giggled to each other, leaving Winnie to slip away unnoticed. She paused just as she turned to the drawing room door. As much as she longed for some time to herself to reflect on this long day, Winnie knew she could not leave her brother out of her plans. She turned around again and made her way toward Mr. Patrick and Warren.

“Dear, would you like to join me on a walk outside?” Winnie asked quietly, trying her best not to startle the two boys, oblivious to the outside world.

Warren only glanced up for a moment, an excited smile on his face. “No thank you, sister. I quite like reading with Mr. Patrick. He reads all the lines in different voices for the different characters like a real actor!”

A wave of guilt washed over Winnie, subduing the bubbling happiness in her chest. If Warren had wanted to come with her, she of course would have been glad to have his company. Still, Winnie could not help feeling thankful that he decided to stay behind. She truly did need a moment to herself after several days of travel and hours of conversation.

With her bonnet tied tightly under her chin, Winnie nearly marched through the house, every step placed with purpose. She had lied to Mr. Harcourt at Astley’s about not liking to wait outdoors. In fact, Winnie quite liked the outdoors. She simply found herself wanting to prove him wrong at every turn.

Truly, how would she survive this visit? Winnie let out a heavy sigh as she stepped outside, the early evening sun spilling around her, bathing the grounds of the Harcourts’ estate in a beautiful golden glow. It had only been half a day and Mr. Harcourt had already vexed her to no end with his mere presence.

Still, as she gazed out at the bright green grass sprawling before her, a garden to her left and a thicket of trees to her right, Winnie prayed that she would be able to enjoy some of her time here. It would be a terrible shame to miss out on this stunning landscape all because some frustrating man sent her into a dizzying haze of annoyance and aggravation.

She stepped down from the veranda and onto the neatly trimmed grass, allowing her body to carry her forward. At this moment, with this relaxing backdrop, Winnie did not feel such a need to infuse every action with the utmost grace. She could be herself, at least for a while. Perhaps the Somerset sun would thaw her a little.

As she leisurely wandered across the lawn, her eyes traveling over the countryside, Winnie’s thoughts still occasionally landed back on Mr. Harcourt. She winced every time she saw his bright smile in her mind’s eye or heard his sparkling laugh in her memories. Why must he occupy so much of her thoughts even when he was nowhere near her?

Winnie came to a stop in the middle of the lawn, looking around to see that she was quite alone. With a determined huff, she rapidly tapped her cheeks with her gloved fingers. “Get yourself together, Winnie,” she mumbled out loud.

She knew she would only make this summer seem even longer if she constantly thought about Mr. Harcourt, when she would see him again, and how he would irritate her next. Perhaps she could subtly find out his schedule from Mrs. Waynford so she would know when to avoid him.

Satisfied with her idea, Winnie continued, encouraged by the light breeze tugging at her dress and the warm sunlight bathing her skin. She walked in contented contemplation for a few minutes before the distant sound of laughter and squeals distracted her.

Looking around, Winnie’s gaze landed upon a rock garden nearby, stones of various sizes arranged in a pleasing display. She nearly jumped when Mr. Harcourt appeared from behind one of the larger rocks, shouting as he lunged forward, a smaller shape darting out from between another pair of stones.

Winnie scrunched her nose at this childish behavior. Mr. Harcourt was far too old to be chasing his youngest sister around, especially as a future baron. For that matter, Miss Harriet was also too old for these games. Did Mr. Harcourt not care about his appearance or reputation at all? If Winnie happened to be a gossip like him, she could easily spread news about this gentleman’s silliness. He would become a laughing stock—if anyone actually believed Winnie over the popular and admired Mr. Harcourt.

But Winnie was not quite that vindictive. She was better than Mr. Harcourt. Thus, this incident would remain private.

She watched from a distance, unable to move on from the scene. She remained perfectly unnoticed even though she stood out in the open. Winnie’s heart nearly stopped when Miss Harriet scrambled up a rock, her foot slipping as she searched for purchase.

Luckily, Mr. Harcourt seemed to recognize at least some dangers. He leapt out from his hiding place and grabbed the girl around the waist, twirling her around before setting her back down on the flat ground. If only he knew anything about decorum and manners, especially for a young lady of Miss Harriet’s age. By the time Winnie was thirteen, she had already grown accustomed to spending her days practicing embroidery or quietly sipping at her tea without a flicker of emotion.

Despite her best efforts, a smile tugged at Winnie’s lips. Miss Harriet laughed loudly, freely, and her brother joined in. Winnie could see how much they enjoyed themselves on this beautiful day, and how much energy Mr. Harcourt put into this jovial playtime with his youngest sibling.

Her smile slipped away just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a melancholy cloud that chilled her to the bone despite the warm summer sunshine. Watching those two made her miss her carefree days all the more, the days when she could smile and laugh and drag her parents around the house or the grounds of Risin Hall and they would happily play along.

Winnie would never experience such lightheartedness again. She could not afford to make any mistakes. If she could just be a little more perfect, perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Thirley would look at her with that old love again. Still, even if she could not achieve that, Winnie refused to give them any reason to look at her with shame or disgust.

Just as she resolved to turn around and continue her walk in another direction, Winnie’s eyes locked onto that willful girl. Miss Harriet struggled to climb up the rock again as Mr. Harcourt disappeared between two stones, searching for her. He obviously had not seen Miss Harriet from his spot. Instinct propelled Winnie forward, her stomach churning with dread.

She was nearly there when Miss Harriet finally lost her grip with a squeal, sliding down to the ground, landing on her hands and knees with a dusty thud. The girl let out a pained cry. Winnie could already see tears streaming down Miss Harriet’s face as she finally closed the distance.

“Harriet?” Mr. Harcourt called from somewhere deeper in the rock garden, his voice ringing with concern.

Winnie dropped to her knees before the girl just as Mr. Harcourt emerged from behind a rock. He knelt down beside the two ladies, all his attention on his sister. He gently brushed her hair out of her face, his laughing hazel eyes now serious as he examined her up and down.

“Goodness, we have gotten ourselves into quite a conundrum, haven’t we?” he mumbled softly, reassuringly, as he wiped a few tears away with his thumb, his large hand nearly engulfing the girl’s face. “There, let’s have a seat now.”

Winnie gripped the girl’s arms as she and Mr. Harcourt carefully guided her back into a more comfortable seated position on her bottom. Even when he saw the dirt on her dress and the pebbles clinging to the soft skin of her palms, Mr. Harcourt maintained his composure, all the while offering words of comfort to Miss Harriet.

Relief and surprise washed over Winnie. At least the girl’s injuries did not seem too serious, nothing that a few days of rest could not heal. The more she watched Mr. Harcourt, the more impressed Winnie became. He handled the situation calmly—more calmly than Winnie likely would have if it had been Warren who had taken such a tumble. His quiet reassurances kept Miss Harriet from panicking, which certainly would not have helped the situation.

“Do you feel any pain when I do this?” he asked, maneuvering Miss Harriet’s hand in different directions to get a better look at her raw palms and check for sprains.

“No, I do not think so,” Miss Harriet mumbled, looking thoroughly chastised though Mr. Harcourt had not scolded her.

A strange warmth tingled inside Winnie. Her first thought would have been to admonish the girl for behaving so foolishly. Yet Mr. Harcourt’s first concern was his sister’s wellbeing. For some reason, Winnie admired this. He had shown himself to be more thoughtful and caring than she had ever expected—at least, in regards to his family.

As if sensing her thoughts, the gentleman’s eyes darted up to Winnie’s face. She nearly jumped, not expecting him to pay her any mind in a situation like this. She desperately wished that she had done more than simply stare at him, though she knew there was not much else for her to do now.

If he noticed Winnie’s gaze, he did not mention it. “Would you help me get Harriet home?” he asked, his voice so low that it sent chills down Winnie’s spine.

Afraid her voice would betray her, Winnie only nodded. Together, she and Mr. Harcourt helped Miss Harriet to her feet. The gentleman assessed the girl once more, cupping her face in his hands. “Do you feel pain in your knees? Will you be able to walk back to the house?”

Miss Harriet shook her head, peering down at her stained dress. “They feel better now. I think my skirt cushioned my fall.”

“You must tell me if it becomes too much for you,” Mr. Harcourt demanded, pinching Miss Harriet’s cheek when she frowned with shame.

Standing back to his full height, Mr. Harcourt turned to Winnie, his gaze stern. “Please, Miss Thirley, do not tell her ladyship about this.”

So he did know that Miss Harriet should not have been running about, jumping all over the place, and climbing on rocks. “You have my word that this will stay between us,” she promised quietly before narrowing her eyes at Mr. Harcourt. “But know that I am doing this for Miss Harriet—not you.”

The gentleman leaned in closer, sending Winnie’s heart into a frantic race. “I know she should not be doing these things anymore,” he whispered, his warm breath gliding against Winnie’s cheek. “She just has such little time left before she really starts making preparations to become a proper Society lady. I just…want her to enjoy her freedom while she still can.”

Winnie’s breath hitched in her throat at the surprisingly deep sadness in his words. Mr. Harcourt pulled back, taking one of Miss Harriet’s arms and gesturing for Winnie to take the other. They only made it a few steps before the girl let out a pained whimper.

“Harriet, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Mr. Harcourt dropped to his knees before his sister, gently gripping her arms in his strong hands, his eyes searching her face.

Miss Harriet sniffled, doing her best to put on a brave expression. “My knees do hurt a bit when I walk.”

Mr. Harcourt resumed his usual playful smile. Somehow, Winnie realized that she had missed seeing it. She bit her lip, forcing the thought away. It was just so unusual to see Mr. Harcourt behaving so seriously. It seemed unnatural to her.

“That will not be a problem at all, my dear.” With a grin, he effortlessly scooped Miss Harriet into his arms. She giggled, a little bit of her lively color returning to her face.

Winnie fiercely fought back a blush as her eyes roamed over Mr. Harcourt’s torso, his muscles pressing against the confines of his coat as he carried his sister with ease. Winnie tore her gaze away, instead looking down at herself. Unsurprisingly, she had collected some light grass stains on her dress. She made a mental note to herself to thank her maid profusely for having to clean up this mess—and swear her to secrecy lest Mrs. Thirley find out, giving her a reason to push Winnie further out of her good graces.

She followed behind Mr. Harcourt and Miss Harriet, listening to their cheerful banter. All memories of Miss Harriet’s fall and her injuries seemed to have disappeared from their minds. Winnie could not help noticing how lovingly Mr. Harcourt looked at his youngest sister, how attentively he listened to her and how easily they conversed.

The gentleman somehow managed to honor the child in Miss Harriet without treating her like a child. Winnie scoffed to herself as she begrudgingly admitted that at least Mr. Harcourt had some pleasant social skills—not that he had ever cared to show her any.

Mr. Harcourt looked over his shoulder with a teasing smile. “Do you have something you wish to contribute, Miss Thirley?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Winnie shook her head. “Nothing that would interest you, I am sure.”

Mr. Harcourt faced forward again, giving a light shrug. “You would be surprised.”

Somehow, the flutters in Winnie’s chest told her that he had spoken the truth. But Winnie had vowed to deny him the satisfaction of being right. She could never, ever admit any of this to Mr. Harcourt.