Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 5

With breakfast almost done, just a few bits of eggs and ham left on her plate, Winnie turned her thoughts to the rest of her day. A few hours reading in the library before pianoforte practice in the guest wing’s sitting room sounded like a perfect plan.

She glanced up to the other side of the table where Mr. Harcourt sat near Lord Welsted. The Harcourts and the Thirleys had fallen into a pleasant, predictable rhythm which Winnie gratefully accepted. Quite often, she only saw Mr. Harcourt during breakfast and dinner. Other than mealtimes, Winnie was left to her own devices unless someone suggested an activity for the whole group, or Mrs. Waynford or Miss Harcourt invited Winnie to spend time with them.

Mr. and Mrs. Thirley did not care what she did. They spent as much of their time as possible with Lord and Lady Welsted, sometimes leaving Warren in her care. At least she had some familiar company, though Winnie had to admit that she had grown quite fond of Mrs. Waynford and Miss Harcourt.

Just as Winnie picked up the last bit of ham onto her fork, Lady Welsted quietly cleared her throat. Conversation stilled around the room, all eyes turned to the baroness. Winnie had come to learn that Lady Welsted, like her eldest son, possessed a lighthearted spirit. Unlike her son, however, she also had a wonderful awareness and command of her surroundings which Winnie very much respected.

“My friends, I thought today might be a wonderful day for a ride around the grounds to visit the main garden,” she suggested, her voice so warm and friendly that Winnie felt a prick of jealousy. No one would ever describe her as warm and friendly.

“Of course we would love to join you,” Mrs. Thirley immediately agreed, much to Winnie’s dismay.

All the Harcourts offered to join as well. Only the Waynfords decided to stay at the house, looking forward to spending a quiet, relaxing day with their daughter.

Winnie silently groaned. She would not even have Mrs. Waynford to keep her company on this outing. She glanced up from her plate, catching Miss Harcourt’s eye across the table. The younger woman’s inviting smile managed to ease Winnie’s anxiety a bit. As long as Miss Harcourt stayed by her side, Winnie would not be completely friendless.

Without meaning to, Winnie’s eyes traveled down the table to Mr. Harcourt once more. He looked terribly pleased, his smile carefree and joyful. He noticed Winnie’s gaze, turning in her direction with a raised brow, silently asking her what she thought of all this.

Winnie tore her eyes away, diligently focusing on her nearly empty plate. She ate the last bit of ham, chewing furiously as Lady Welsted suggested that they all take a break after breakfast, change into comfortable walking clothes, and meet back in the foyer in an hour. As she marched upstairs to the guest wing with her family, Winnie quietly mourned the loss of the pleasant day she had planned for herself.

A small hand slipped into hers. Winnie looked down at her side to see Warren smiling brightly. “I cannot wait to spend some time outside,” he cheered quietly, a strange combination that somehow came naturally to her brother.

Of course, Winnie was thrilled that Warren had settled in, slowly opening himself up to new experiences and friendships. At least he had found some enjoyment here. That would always be the most important thing to Winnie. Staring down into Warren’s excited expression, Winnie vowed to put her frustrations aside. She would deal with Mr. Harcourt for the day. Still, she knew she would need that peace and quiet tomorrow to recover from today’s ordeal.

Once in her room, Winnie gazed out the window as her maid pulled out a few walking dresses for Winnie to choose from. Lady Welsted was right. The day was just right for a garden walk. The bright green grass shimmered in a light breeze, the gentle hills transformed into lush ocean waves rising and falling in the wind.

“Here you are, Miss Thirley,” the maid announced after a few minutes.

“Thank you, Theresa.” Winnie abandoned the window and its beautiful view, coming around to the other side of the bed to see the dresses laid out for her.

She hummed thoughtfully, fingers tapping against her cheek as her eyes scanned each dress. She paced back and forth along the bed, only somewhat aware that Theresa watched her curiously from the corner of the room. Winnie did not usually fret over what to wear. Today, the decision weighed on her.

Winnie adored her lilac dress, but she worried that it might make her look even paler in the bright sunlight. She had not worn this pastel pink in a while though she had never really been sure that pink suited her. The dress would do her no favors if she happened to blush for some reason, only serving to draw more attention to her coloration. Winnie paused at this thought. Why would she have any reason to blush today?

Finally, she chose the light blue, almost silver dress that offered a lovely contrast to her eyes. As Theresa dressed her, Winnie wondered why she even wanted to bring attention to her eyes, why she wanted to choose the perfect outfit. She had never put much emphasis on her appearance aside from dressing appropriately for the occasion. Besides, Winnie firmly believed that if she wanted to catch someone’s attention, it should be through her character and morals rather than her fashion sense or physical attractiveness.

For some reason, the memory of Mr. Harcourt raising his brow at her across the breakfast table flashed through Winnie’s mind. She shook her head so forcefully that Theresa let out a surprised gasp.

Winnie soon made her way back downstairs to the foyer, a knot of nerves building up in her stomach. Had the silver dress really been the right choice? And why did it matter which dress she chose since all of her options were lovely and perfectly appropriate?

As usual, Winnie was the first to arrive. She always arrived early because it showed that she was responsible and that she valued others’ time as well as her own. Unfortunately, not everyone shared that same sentiment.

“Hello, Miss Thirley.” The warm, teasing voice nearly caused Winnie to jump through the roof. She whirled around to see Mr. Harcourt looking very dashing in his dark coat, a blush immediately prickling under her skin. She silently offered a prayer of thanks that she had not worn the pink dress after all.

In an attempt to regain her composure, Winnie tossed her head up proudly. “I am surprised to see that you are on time.”

Mr. Harcourt simply shrugged his shoulders at Winnie’s harsh comment. He smiled, his eyes shining with amusement. “I am, as a matter of fact, early. I heard from someone that being early is very important.”

Winnie’s blush deepened, the man’s words racing through her mind. What kind of game was he playing? He acted like they were friends—like he cared about what she had to say. She barely remembered saying that at Astley’s all those months ago. Why would he remember some offhand remark she had made purely to spite him?

“So you are capable of learning. How lovely,” she grumbled with an unladylike frown.

Mr. Harcourt laughed, the sound deep and spirited, still unperturbed by Winnie’s attitude. “It does help to have such a good teacher.”

To Winnie’s immense relief, the rest of their party trickled into the foyer, filling the large space with their relaxed conversation. For now, Winnie had been saved from having to think of some witty retort. Her mind seemed slower today even though her heart beat uncomfortably fast.

“There you are, Miss Thirley. I am so terribly sorry I could not rescue you from my annoying brother sooner,” Miss Harcourt chirped, threading her arm through Winnie’s while shooting a playful glare at her older brother.

“How did you know I was annoying dear Miss Thirley?” Mr. Harcourt asked with an exaggerated frown.

The word “dear” before her name and the sweet tone of his voice made Winnie’s stomach flip back and forth at a dizzying rate. At least the siblings seemed lost in their banter, paying her no mind. Winnie prayed fervently that her mind and body would return to normal as quickly as possible. She already had enough to deal with, being out and about with this man. She did not need these strange sensations confusing her any further.

Miss Harcourt smiled so sweetly that Winnie had no doubt this young lady could wrap the world around her finger if she wanted to. “Because, brother, you are almost always annoying someone.”

The bluntness of her words in contrast with her innocent expression sent Winnie into an unexpected fit of giggles. She greatly admired Miss Harcourt’s wit, even if it did stray a little over the line of politeness. Besides, Winnie had learned right away that the Harcourts often teased and pranked each other in good fun. This was perfectly normal and comfortable for them.

It had become immediately evident to Winnie that the Harcourt family loved each other to the ends of the Earth. They all had lovely relationships with each other, even the members who had rather different personalities. Winnie had not seen Mr. Harcourt interact as much with his father, and he did often pick on his younger brother. That expression she had witnessed on her first day at Attwood Manor, that pain on Mr. Harcourt’s face as he looked at Mr. Patrick, had never resurfaced. Even despite all that, Winnie knew they all cared for each other deeply.

Mr. Harcourt fired right back at his younger sister, the pair slipping into an easy routine of badgering one another. A sharp pain in Winnie’s chest made her look away. Her eyes drifted over to Mr. Thirley of their own accord, his hand resting gently on Warren’s shoulder. The sharp pain transformed into a dull, familiar ache. It hurt to see what she could have had, though Winnie knew she could do nothing about it now.

Warren noticed her gaze, giving her an excited wave. Winnie smiled softly. She should consider herself blessed to at least have Warren. She loved him, and he loved her, for now—until he grew older and life’s responsibilities and excitements would take him out of their home, leaving Winnie behind once more.

A shiver ran down Winnie’s spine as she sensed eyes upon her. She turned to see Mr. Harcourt watching her intently. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, wondering what he had seen and what he had thought of it—and why she should care in the first place.

“Everyone seems to be here now,” Lord Welsted announced in his soft voice. “If you would all follow me this way, our carriages await us.”

Miss Harriet immediately rushed forward through the double doors, her honey blonde hair trailing behind her. While Winnie would have never done such a thing even at that age, she somehow found herself jealous of the girl’s freedom of spirit and her complete lack of care for the opinions of others.

“She absolutely adores horses,” Miss Harcourt sighed with a bemused smile as Mr. Patrick hurried after his younger sister to keep an eye on her.

Winnie nodded thoughtfully. “That makes perfect sense to me,” she chuckled. “In fact, she seems rather horse-like herself.”

The younger woman’s brows went up in a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “You have no idea how right you are.”

The rest of the group filed out onto the front drive as Mr. Patrick managed to catch Miss Harriet around the waist, lifting her up into a barouche. Winnie noticed Warren watching them longingly. She gave a light cough, drawing the boy’s attention. Tilting her head in their direction, Warren’s face lit up with a sweet grin. He slipped his hand out of Mrs. Thirley’s and ran after the younger Harcourts. Mr. Patrick did not skip a beat, lifting Warren up into the carriage beside his own sister. Warren’s bottom had been on the seat for no more than a second before Miss Harriet immediately began chatting away at him.

A warm chuckle rippled through Winnie when she saw Warren’s overwhelmed expression. After a moment of surprise, he joined the conversation with his new friend, his own enthusiasm shining through. The rest of the party divided up between the remaining carriages, with Mr. Patrick joining his sister and Warren while the parents stepped into another barouche.

All of Winnie’s good humor came to a screeching halt when she realized just what that meant. Only she, Miss Harcourt, and Mr. Harcourt remained to take the third carriage. These seating arrangements did not surprise Winnie after she gave it some thought. She still did not like the idea of sharing a barouche with Mr. Harcourt. Their only other carriage ride had been quite a disaster, after all.

Her heart rate told a different story as she took Mr. Harcourt’s offered hand, allowing him to help her up into the carriage after Miss Harcourt. His fingers squeezed around hers just a bit before letting go. Winnie’s traitorous heart raced while time seemed to slow down, an exhilarating shiver rippling through her as their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

She had no memory of sitting down beside Miss Harcourt, or of Mr. Harcourt climbing in after her and taking the seat across from them, or of their barouche slowly rumbling forward over the gravel driveway toward the spacious lawn. Her mind swam with those golden eyes, blocking out everything else for several moments.

Luckily, the Harcourt siblings had no issue keeping up their own steady stream of conversation, leaving Winnie to slowly return to herself. She found that it helped when Mr. Harcourt drew her attention to something on the grounds as they drove by.

“Do you see that grove of trees just over there? Noah proposed to Anna there after we pulled off an excellent scheme to bring him to Attwood Manor and reunite them. And that hill in the distance, my great-grandmother made a beautiful painting capturing its exact likeness. It still hangs in our gallery,” he rambled cheerfully, his long arm outstretched to show the estate’s landmarks.

For a short time, she could look out at whatever he wanted her to see. She needed to look away from him, away from his proud, loving eyes as he spoke of his family’s history, away from his tousled light brown locks tossed about by the breeze, away from his contented smile.

Winnie had to forcefully remind herself several times during the ride just why she had banished Mr. Harcourt from her good graces. His hurtful words at that dance had only been part of it. She needed to remember their last carriage ride, and how he only seemed capable of discussing his recent fun activities and pastimes. There had been nothing of substance, nothing to indicate a good, respectable character.

Yet Winnie found herself finally seeing something in him she could respect. He clearly loved his home. He knew its history and the complexities of its maintenance. That still did not prove that he would one day be a responsible guardian for the house, the land, and all the people who relied on it in various ways.

An unfamiliar stirring deep in Winnie’s chest told her that Mr. Harcourt would indeed do very well when his time as Lord Welsted came, though she struggled to admit that to herself. How could someone so carefree also be capable of shouldering the burdens that came with a title? It was a mystery to Winnie, a mystery she found herself hoping she could solve.

Aside from Mr. Harcourt completely perplexing her, Winnie slowly relaxed into the joy of the trip through the estate. It was an enchanting, welcoming place. She could always appreciate that, no matter her state of mind.

Even from the perimeter of the incredible garden, Winnie could see that the groundskeepers cared for it with love and attention. It was such a huge space that Winnie could not see through to the other side. The carriages came to a stop and again, Mr. Harcourt took Winnie’s hand to help her down, sending her heart thundering once more. This time, she refused to look into his eyes.

Everyone naturally formed their own little groups, the older adults going off together while Miss Harriet pulled Warren behind her, Mr. Patrick following to watch over them. Winnie, Miss Harcourt, and Mr. Harcourt walked through the elegant wrought iron gate together. Luckily for Winnie, Miss Harcourt had taken the center position, keeping Mr. Harcourt at least some distance away. She did not want to spend her day worrying about why Mr. Harcourt had been making her feel so strange when all this beauty surrounded her.

Indeed, Winnie soon felt her thoughts drifting off comfortably. The wonderful fragrance wafting through the garden soothed her flustered mind. As she looked around, her eyes greeted by what looked to be dozens of different types of flowers, Winnie felt certain that she could easily spend the whole day here.

A gravel path stretched before them, going all the way to the other side, with smaller paths shooting off to the left and right at regular intervals. They slowly made their way toward the gazebo at the center of the garden, silent except for the occasional exclamation over a particularly lovely flower. Even the vibrant Mr. Harcourt seemed awed by this place.

Another ember of interest blossomed in Winnie as she stole glances at his serene expression. Surely he had been here more times than he could count, yet its beauty had not become commonplace to him. She had always admired those who did not take life for granted, who respected the incredible miracles surrounding them every day. Could Mr. Harcourt truly be such a man?

“Winnie, look at this!” Warren’s breathless voice pulled Winnie out of her peaceful reverie. He had managed to escape Miss Harriet long enough to run back to his sister, his cheeks rosy with excitement.

The boy held out his hand to reveal a small, crawling creature slinking down his finger. Miss Harcourt yelped, clutching her brother’s arm. Winnie also jumped at the sight of the caterpillar, her eyes growing wide in shock for a moment before doing her best to regain some measure of composure.

With as much grace as she could muster, she leaned forward, peering down at Warren’s little friend. “That certainly is very interesting, my dear,” she started, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice, “but I think he would feel more comfortable on one of these flowers so he can become a beautiful butterfly someday.”

Warren pouted thoughtfully, watching the caterpillar attempt to change direction on his finger, nearly falling off in the process. “I think you must be right,” he agreed gravely, turning on his heel and trotting back to Miss Harriet.

The children took one last look at the caterpillar before Warren gently nudged it onto the leaf of a nearby bush. Winnie watched Miss Harriet in shock. The girl did not flinch or squeal at the sight of the insect, unlike Winnie and Miss Harcourt.

A jovial chuckle brought Winnie’s attention away from the caterpillar. She turned to see Mr. Harcourt smiling broadly, creases at the corners of his eyes. He patted his sister’s hand, which still desperately clung to his coat sleeve.

“The wild danger has gone now, Caroline. I think you can let go—unless you want me to lose my arm?” he joked.

Miss Harcourt huffed in her usual fashion, striding forward to join Lady Welsted’s conversation with Mrs. Thirley. She threw a strange glance over her shoulder at Winnie. It looked almost mischievous.

Now Winnie desperately wished that Mrs. Waynford had come along after being abandoned by her only other friend in the house. She knew Mrs. Waynford would not have left her behind, though Winnie could tell from the sparkle in Miss Harcourt’s eye that the younger woman seemed to think she had done Winnie a favor.

She did not know if the rest of their family knew of her history with Mr. Harcourt, and she certainly would not bring it up herself while she was still a guest in their home. Perhaps Miss Harcourt had hatched a brilliant plan to throw two unmarried people together in such a romantic setting.

Like a true gentleman, Mr. Harcourt offered his arm to Winnie. She glared at it for a moment before accepting it, being sure to make her disdain clear. He merely smiled down at her as they began a leisurely pace, following the rest of the group. Winnie stared straight ahead, silently scolding the butterflies rampaging through her chest.

They walked in silence for some time, Mr. Harcourt gazing about the garden, his eyes full of appreciation. Winnie had never seen him this quiet before. She thanked God for it. Perhaps she would not have to speak with him after all.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Mr. Harcourt looked down at her. Heat rose under Winnie’s skin as she realized that she had just been caught staring.

“So, Winnie does not like caterpillars, does she?”

Winnie’s mouth dropped open in a very unladylike expression. Had he really just used her given name so casually, as if they had been friends for years? She snapped her mouth shut again. They certainly were not friends. Something else shocked her as well, even more disturbing than that. She could not believe how suddenly lightheaded she felt at hearing her name on his voice.

She whipped her head forward again, seething with annoyance not just at Mr. Harcourt, but at herself. “The nickname is silly and childish. It should not have followed me into adulthood,” she snapped, jutting her chin into the air.

When Mr. Harcourt did not respond right away with some irritating comment or rude question, Winnie dared to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He smiled at her with that charming sparkle. Winnie’s heart fluttered against her wishes.

“I think it is a very sweet nickname that carries love and joy in it,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, though Winnie had no trouble hearing it. She suddenly realized how very close they stood, side by side, his head tilted down toward her.

A light breeze ruffled the gentleman’s hair as a ray of bright sunlight fell perfectly across his face. For the first time, Winnie noticed flecks of green as well as shadows of darker brown in his eyes.

Mr. Harcourt possessed wonderfully beautiful eyes—warm and gentle with a hint of laughter.

Winnie swallowed as her heart leapt into her throat, the intoxicating fragrance of the garden nearly sending her into a dizzy spell.

“You only feel that way because you do not have some sort of silly nickname like…Dolly,” she mumbled, brows furrowed in confused anger.

Winnie had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes when Mr. Harcourt responded with another dashing smile. “You could call me that if you like.”

Somehow, a smile tugged at Winnie’s lips. The thought of calling a grown man Dolly was utterly absurd, yet she could not help thinking in some far corner of her mind that it would be rather endearing on Mr. Harcourt.

She left him without an answer, afraid of what her voice would reveal if she spoke. Instead, Winnie looked around the garden for the rest of their group. Her parents, Lord and Lady Welsted, and Miss Harcourt had gone down a path to the right to more closely examine a neatly trimmed bush with delicate white blooms. Mr. Patrick, Miss Harriet, and Warren had chosen a path to the left where some other crawling critter had caught their attention.

Adopting her spiteful attitude once more, Winnie felt confident enough to look Mr. Harcourt in the face again. “Goodness, you make it sound as though we are the best of friends.”

Mr. Harcourt came to a sudden stop, causing Winnie to stumble slightly and grip his arm for balance. He pulled himself away from Winnie, turning to stand before her. Instinctively, Winnie turned as well, bringing them almost toe-to-toe.

He gazed down at her for a moment, causing Winnie’s stomach to churn in panic. She did not usually waver under someone else’s gaze, yet she felt so terribly flustered when Mr. Harcourt looked at her like this.

When she could bear it no longer, she broke eye contact, looking to her left to find that they stood at the gazebo. Just two steps up and they would be inside, surrounded by its white pillars and lattices, shaded from the powerful sun above while still able to see the immaculate gardens surrounding them.

For the briefest moment, Winnie thought that it would be so lovely to stand inside the gazebo with him, or sit and drink tea with him, or read a book while he read the newspaper.

Winnie did not have time to wonder why such a ridiculous image would pop into her mind, or wonder why her chest had erupted in warm, golden light. Mr. Harcourt took a step closer, still staring down at Winnie with that surprising intensity that she found herself longing to see again and again.

“I see I still have not won you over yet,” he whispered with a tinge of sadness. “But I will.”

Winnie’s heart flipped before thundering against her ribs in a painful yet intoxicating rhythm, his words ringing in her ears. The rest of the garden melted away, leaving just Mr. Harcourt.

The moment disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. Mr. Harcourt took a step back, putting a much more appropriate amount of distance between them again. He wore that familiar half-smile that Winnie had once found annoying and immature. Today, it made her feel something else—and she did not know if she should be enjoying it this much.

“At least, I shall try my best,” Mr. Harcourt added with a chuckle, bowing his head to Winnie as if acknowledging her as a worthy opponent.

Winnie took a step back as well, forcing herself to inhale, forcing those strange thoughts and feelings back down into the dark where they belonged.

“You make me sound as though I am an adversary you must defeat,” she responded through gritted teeth.

Mr. Harcourt’s brows furrowed. He seemed troubled by her words for a moment before returning to his natural nonchalant expression. “I do not want to defeat you, Miss Thirley. I simply want to befriend you.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Mr. Harcourt shocked her again. Both his words and the flicker of concern she had seen on his face almost made her feel as though he worried about offending her. She bristled a little, remembering that he did not seem all that worried about offending her two years ago.

Still, as he stared at her, patiently awaiting her answer, Winnie felt something inside her melting ever so slightly. Perhaps people could change—even someone as impetuous as Mr. Harcourt.

Winnie bit her lip, clasping her hands before her. “I suppose we can try it out,” she agreed quietly. “Though I reserve the right to change my mind at any time,” she added when she saw the pleasantly surprised and hopeful twinkle in Mr. Harcourt’s eyes.

He smiled with an understanding nod, like a boy who had just been promised his favorite bonbon in exchange for good behavior. Winnie bit the inside of her cheek. She still could not figure out why he was so accepting of her rudeness. She had given him no reason to hope for a friendship with her. Yet here he stood, grinning at the prospect of finally bridging the gap between them.

The man stepped into the gazebo, holding his hand down to Winnie. She looked from his hand to his face and back again, not sure what to make of this gesture.

He must have understood the hesitation in her expression, for he patiently explained, “Friends enjoy pleasant mornings lounging around in gazebos while taking in the beautiful sights of the garden.”

After a brief, thrilling moment of consideration, Winnie finally accepted his hand with a small smile, allowing him to guide her up into the gazebo. Of course, she did not need any help. She could manage a couple steps on her own perfectly well. Something about the gesture still warmed her from the inside out.

The view to the right side immediately drew Winnie’s eye. She took a few steps toward a metal chair that would offer her a lovely vantage point over the rows upon rows of lovingly maintained flowers.

Mr. Harcourt’s gentle hand on her elbow nearly made Winnie jump. She whipped around to stare at him, eyes wide and breath frozen in her lungs. She knew she had agreed to attempt a friendship with him, but she had not expected such an intimate gesture so soon.

His gaze dropped to his gloved fingers, gripping Winnie’s arm with an urgent tenderness. He snatched his hand back, clearing his throat. Winnie had never expected to see Mr. Harcourt in such a nervous state. Surely, as the beloved, charming, friendly Society bachelor, he was above feelings of anxiety and embarrassment. The pink hue of his cheeks almost made Winnie blush as well, everything in her desperate to know what he would do next.

“If we go to the back left area, we will have an even better view,” he mumbled. “At least, I happen to like this view best.”

Curiosity overcame Winnie’s shock. She followed him silently. She put her hands on the railing, peering around at the back corner of the garden, more green fields and a thicket of trees stretching out behind it. A prick of disappointment stung her. Perhaps he was just playing another game, trying to make her look a fool. She saw nothing remarkable out here.

Winnie suddenly found herself breathless as Mr. Harcourt stepped up behind her, his hands on her arms so lightly that she wondered if he actually touched her. His fingers whispered against the bare skin of her upper arms as he guided her to the right.

Now in the proper position, Winnie again examined the landscape for something special. She saw more bushes with pretty flowers and not much else. She truly had no idea why Mr. Harcourt insisted on showing her this side of the gazebo when the view did not seem any better than the other side.

Mr. Harcourt leaned down beside her, his mouth at Winnie’s ear, sending a wonderfully warm shiver through her entire body. “Look just there, in the break between those two spiral topiaries.”

Winnie’s remaining sense told her to lean forward, pressing herself against the rail, partially to get a better look, but mostly to put some distance between herself and Mr. Harcourt. She could hardly think with his scent flooding her mind, with his breath tickling her cheek.

She trained her eyes to see past the topiaries, squinting in search of something, anything to make this agonizing moment worthwhile. Finally, a flicker of movement by the thicket of trees caught her attention. A little family of rabbits scurried about between the tree trunks, joyfully hopping to and fro.

The sight made Winnie feel almost giddy. Without any hint of her usual sarcasm, she asked, “Is this really what you would rather look at than all these beautiful flowers and sculptures?”

He came around to Winnie’s side, putting his hand on the railing as well, his pinky brushing against hers. He gazed out at the rabbits, a small contented smile on his lips.

“Yes, I certainly would. They are so sweet and free, and they seem to enjoy their little lives,” he chuckled before his eyes grew darker. “At least, until the foxes come.”

Winnie watched him from her peripheral vision, her mind racing with this new information. Somehow, it did not surprise her that Mr. Harcourt enjoyed these simple nature scenes that others would likely find inconsequential and boring. His suddenly grim expression did cause her to reconsider some of her opinions of the gentleman. She had assumed this whole time that he did not have any cares in the world.

She did not have a chance to inquire further about his meaning, even if she had wanted to. Mr. Harcourt turned away, heading toward the back side of the gazebo to continue their walk through the garden. He looked over his shoulder at Winnie as he waited for her to join.

“The rabbit family reminds me of my own—always scurrying about and jumping all over each other.” His expression had become warm again, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Winnie could not help laughing at the mental image Mr. Harcourt’s words conjured, and he joined. Smiling and laughing like this did not feel unnatural to Winnie. It did not feel inappropriate or foolish or unrefined as she had trained herself to believe.

With a sudden lightness in her step, Winnie found herself wanting to smile around Mr. Harcourt now. It felt so freeing. Perhaps, if she allowed herself, Winnie could grow used to this sensation.