Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 7

The Harcourts’ drawing room had become familiar and comforting to Winnie, always so full of amicable conversation. She had brought a book with her to read since she usually had no trouble tuning out the outside world as needed. That had proven impossible today.

The sound of numerous voices filling up the space did not bother Winnie. It was her eyes that she could not control. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept lifting to the other side of the room where Mr. Harcourt sat beside Mr. Thirley, chatting away while his guest listened intently.

A week had passed since the already infamous sheep chase. Winnie had barely spoken to Mr. Harcourt since. In fact, she had barely seen him outside of mealtimes. Perhaps that was for the best, Winnie reminded herself as she forced her eyes back to her book.

Seeing him right now, even from this distance, put Winnie in a very bizarre state of mind. She felt just as she had on the day of the garden stroll, which had culminated in her flinging herself at a lamb. She felt exhilarated and warm.

Winnie wished that Miss Harcourt or Mrs. Waynford had been here to offer some distraction. Instead, Miss Harcourt had gone off to spend the day with a nearby friend and the Waynfords had taken a picnic by the lake.

Just as Winnie closed her book, planning to excuse herself as quietly as possible, the door to the drawing room opened, revealing the Waynford family. Mrs. Waynford immediately found Winnie, already half out of her chair. The older woman smiled understandingly, seeming to hear Winnie’s silent plea. Mrs. Waynford whispered something into her husband’s ear, prompting him to kiss her on the top of her head and then do the same to their baby before striding over to join Mr. Harcourt’s conversation.

“Good afternoon, Miss Thirley. I trust you are well?” Mrs. Waynford took the seat next to Winnie, Miss Waynford cooing all the while.

“Yes, indeed. And what of yourself and this precious little one?” Winnie asked, leaning forward to smile at the baby.

A strange desire to glance over at Mr. Harcourt struck Winnie with such force that she could only obey. Just as they made eye contact, Miss Waynford grasped Winnie’s finger. The baby’s uncle watched with interest, a smile tugging at his lips. Winnie forced her attention back to Mrs. Waynford as the lady answered her question.

“We are quite well, though our picnic was unfortunately cut short when poor Beth had an…accident.” She blushed as she looked down at her child, still getting used to motherhood and its many trials and tribulations. “Fear not, we have both changed into fresh dresses.”

Winnie chuckled at the tale, remembering Warren’s infancy. “Babies are rather unusual creatures, are they not? One minute they are making a mess and the next they are smiling and laughing as if nothing could ever be wrong in the world—sometimes while still wearing said mess.”

Mrs. Waynford giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand. “Too right you are, Miss Thirley!”

They settled into a friendly chat as Lady Welsted called for more tea. Winnie had relaxed somewhat now that she had a familiar presence by her side, though her nerves did not disappear completely.

Unfortunately, they only grew worse when the tea arrived. Just as the footman came in with a silver tray, Mr. Harcourt hurriedly excused himself from his conversation with Mr. Thirley and Mr. Waynford, rushing over to the couch occupied by Winnie and his sister, arms outstretched.

“Here, let me take Beth for now,” he offered, an eager gleam in his eyes. “I do not want tea at the moment, so I will gladly hold my dear niece for a while.”

“Thank you, Dalton. That is very kind of you. Now that I think about it, I barely had any tea during our picnic. Little Elizabeth had other plans.” With a bemused smile, Mrs. Waynford gently passed her daughter into the gentleman’s arms.

Mrs. Waynford prepared her tea, and Winnie did the same, desperately trying not to follow Mr. Harcourt with her eyes. Her efforts stood no chance against her ever-increasing interest in him. She watched him make his way back to the other side of the room, bouncing the baby until she giggled. He smiled so widely in response that Winnie could see it even from this angle.

She and Mrs. Waynford sipped their tea in companionable silence, Winnie’s eyes darting over to Mr. Harcourt all the while. He soon resumed his seat, happily conversing with his niece, handling her with such care and attention.

The sight made Winnie’s heart swell with light and warmth. He would no doubt be an excellent father one day. She knew that many men did not take any interest in their own children, let alone their nieces or nephews.

Mr. Harcourt’s eyes glowed with love every time he got to see or hold Miss Waynford. Deep down in the surest part of Winnie’s soul, she knew he would treat his own children just as lovingly—more lovingly than her own father had treated her.

Right now, it looked as though this baby held Mr. Harcourt’s entire heart in her tiny hand, and nothing would ever change that. In fact, Winnie suspected that if a stranger walked into the room, knowing nothing of the people inside, they would guess that Mr. Harcourt was the baby’s father rather than her uncle.

A throbbing ache pulsed through Winnie’s chest with a strange, intense desire. She had always longed for this feeling. She just had not thought in a million years that Mr. Harcourt would be the cause.

Winnie shook her head lightly, desperate to banish that thought before it went any further. Seeing any young man playing so sweetly with an adorable baby would make any woman swoon. Mr. Harcourt had nothing to do with it. That would be completely impossible and utterly ridiculous.

“Is something wrong, Miss Thirley?” Mrs. Waynford’s gentle voice pulled Winnie away from that dangerous territory.

“No, no. I am perfectly fine,” she insisted, a little too enthusiastically.

Winnie had learned during her stay at Attwood Manor that Mrs. Waynford was a very observant woman. She glanced from Winnie to her brother. Much to Winnie’s relief, Mrs. Waynford was also very tactful.

The older woman smiled softly as she watched Mr. Harcourt care for her beloved daughter. Winnie offered a silent prayer of thanks that her friend had enough sense to remain silent about whatever connection she had made.

“He really is such a caring man,” Mrs. Waynford said fondly. “He always has been. Dalton has doted on Beth since the first time he laid eyes on her. Can you believe he has even asked us when he will get another niece or nephew?”

Winnie could not help giggling at this unexpected information. At first, it seemed odd that Mr. Harcourt would be so eager to have more little ones in his life. After glancing over at him again to see the young man planting big kisses on the baby’s cheeks, Winnie realized that she should not be so surprised after all.

“Is it safe to assume that you and Mr. Waynford are still catching your breath from this one?”

The older woman’s head fell back as she laughed louder than Winnie had ever heard or even thought possible for such a sweet, reserved soul. “You are absolutely right about that,” she agreed through sputtering breaths.

The others in the room looked over at the commotion the two ladies had caused, including Mr. Harcourt, before quickly returning to their own conversations. Mr. Harcourt’s gaze lingered, however, glancing between Winnie and his sister, looking almost impressed.

“I have told Dalton that he could always have children of his own if he loves them so much,” Mrs. Waynford continued, slowly returning to her usual calm demeanor.

Those words shocked Winnie, causing her to take a much bigger sip of tea than she had intended, the hot liquid searing her throat. “Do you think Mr. Harcourt will be taking your advice anytime soon?” she asked as nonchalantly as possible, keeping her face angled down toward her cup lest her expression give away her sudden interest.

Mrs. Waynford sighed, the corner of her mouth turned down in the slightest frown. “I am not sure. I know he is nervous about the whole prospect, though I do not think he needs to be.”

Curiosity seized Winnie, her eyes drifting over to Mr. Harcourt once more. Her former enemy was nervous about getting married and having a family? She never would have guessed it by the way he acted, always so confident and charming and beloved by all.

Of course, Winnie had only recently learned that even Mr. Harcourt had some sort of depth. He was not always as carefree as he seemed. Something stirred in Winnie’s heart. She longed to know more. Mrs. Waynford did not elaborate, and Winnie knew it would be very rude to pry any further, no matter how badly she wanted to.

With admirable grace, Mrs. Waynford deftly changed the subject toward safer waters, to Winnie’s simultaneous regret and relief. She did want to learn more about this mysterious side to a man she had once thought hopelessly simple—but Winnie feared herself, and what she might come to feel for him.

Those thoughts had almost settled into the back of Winnie’s mind as she and Mrs. Waynford discussed the baby, the Waynfords’ home in Essex, and their eventual plans to return to their own estate, Shambrook Lodge. She would have been happy to continue the conversation for hours. Mrs. Thirley had other plans.

For the first time since they had come to the drawing room, Mrs. Thirley left Lady Welsted’s side, quietly making her way across the room to her daughter. That familiar prick of discomfort stung Winnie’s chest as her mother came closer. Mrs. Thirley did not usually interact with her unless absolutely necessary.

“Dear, I was just telling her ladyship about your skill with the pianoforte. She would love to hear you play,” the woman explained quietly, her voice cordial yet without warmth or interest.

Winnie enjoyed playing pianoforte and she certainly did not mind providing some entertainment for company. She had put in many, many hours of practice from a young age. She took pride in her skills. Unfortunately, Winnie knew from the slightly perturbed expression on Mrs. Thirley’s face that more likely than not, Lady Welsted had asked about Winnie. Mrs. Thirley did not voluntarily provide information about her daughter, as if hoping Winnie would disappear into thin air if she ignored her enough.

“It would be my honor,” Winnie agreed stiffly, resuming her familiar coldness. She was surprised at how difficult she found it to rebuild her safe wall of numb indifference. It had been so easy to let it slip while surrounded by the Harcourts’ cheer.

As she stood, Winnie noticed Mr. Harcourt’s intrigued expression. A surge of anticipation flooded her entire body. She trusted her musical talents. With Mr. Harcourt watching, Winnie wanted to put on an excellent performance. She wanted to impress him, to show him what she was capable of.

Winnie took her seat at the instrument situated at the back of the room. Luckily, her back faced the small crowd, providing her some privacy from their eager stares. She shuffled through the available sheet music, selecting a piece she knew very well to give her a better chance of performing to her best ability.

Her nerves had begun to multiply and spread from her stomach all throughout her body. With a deep breath, Winnie’s eyes latched onto the page, her fingers pressing down into the keys immediately. The longer she waited to start, the more nervous she would become. Nervous fingers caused mistakes. Winnie avoided mistakes at all costs. With so many eyes on her now—including her parents and Mr. Harcourt—she needed to be perfect now more than ever.

She had made the right choice with this piece. She knew it so well that she hardly needed the sheet music. Lady Welsted burst into applause as soon as Winnie hit the last note.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mrs. Thirley said quietly, a hesitant hope fluttering in Winnie’s heart. That was as close to giving a compliment as Mrs. Thirley had come in quite some time.

“Yes, lovely. You know, our Warren is quite talented with music as well,” Mr. Thirley added, popping Winnie’s tiny bubble of happiness just like that.

Winnie did her best to hide her annoyance, feeling the tendons in her neck straining against her skin while she fought to keep her expression neutral. Her eyes roamed around the room, noticing that everyone else seemed more interested in her performance than her own parents—including Mr. Harcourt. He had moved to the window with Miss Waynford in his arms to get a better view of Winnie’s performance.

As soon as their eyes met, Winnie knew that he had seen her moment of weakness, her hot indignation, before she could smooth it away beneath her frigid mask. She knew she should be embarrassed at being caught with such a foolish look on her face. Yet she felt nothing of the sort. She was so tired of this happening, day in and day out for the last ten years. For once, Winnie did not care that someone had seen the truth in her eyes. Or perhaps she did not care because it had been Mr. Harcourt who had seen it.

The rest of the group offered their compliments to Winnie as she made her way back to her seat. She passed by the window as she went, slowing slightly so she could watch Mr. Harcourt with his niece.

“Do you see that hill over there, little Beth?” he whispered into her dark hair. Miss Waynford did not look in the direction he pointed, too fixated on her uncle’s cravat to notice anything else. “When I was a boy, I tried to sled down that very hill and nearly broke my arm.”

Winnie grimaced at the story, hurrying past them toward the couch she had shared with Mrs. Waynford. That seemed very much like the Mr. Harcourt she knew. She caught a few more words as Mr. Harcourt explained the history behind the hills to his niece before she was out of earshot.

Once again, Winnie found herself impressed by his knowledge of his home and the lands he would one day inherit. He did have a good head on his shoulders, though only about some things, it seemed. Seeing his soft, sweet side only made Winnie more curious about the surprising complexities of this man.

“Mr. Harcourt!”Warren cried, his voice shrill with surprise and excitement.

Winnie whipped around to see Mr. Harcourt striding out onto the veranda. She and Warren had chosen to enjoy tea and pastries in the fresh air, just the two of them. Warren had been so busy lately with all these new experiences that Winnie had not had much time with him.

She had not had much time with Mr. Harcourt recently, either. Relief swept over Winnie as her eyes examined his face, drinking in his features as if it had been two years instead of two weeks since she had last seen him.

He smiled at Winnie. She found herself hoping that she read the shimmer in his eyes correctly. He looked just as relieved to see her.

“Good morning, my friends,” he called out in his bright, happy way. “Have either of you seen my father by any chance?”

“I am afraid not. It has just been us out here so far,” Winnie answered. The man’s brows furrowed, his mouth twitching in frustration.

This only made Winnie more curious. Why did he need to find the baron? Where had he been during this past fortnight? It had not escaped Winnie’s notice that Mr. Harcourt rarely spoke about his father or spent much quality time with him, so she was surprised that he would go out of his way to seek him out. It also had not escaped Winnie’s notice that the young man had excused himself the moment he set his fork down after each breakfast, rushing from the room as if on a secret mission.

The deep, fierce longing gripping Winnie’s chest nearly took her breath away. At the beginning of the summer, she would have been overjoyed to be rid of Mr. Harcourt. Now that she had finally seen him again after two weeks of little interaction, she realized just how much she missed him.

“Please join us, Mr. Harcourt! I promise to share my pastries,” Warren begged. Winnie silently thanked her brother for having the sense to invite Mr. Harcourt to spend some time with them. Her brain was too muddled to think clearly.

The gentleman hesitated, his eyes scanning the fields in the distance. When his gaze returned to Winnie, he grinned. “I would enjoy that very much. That is, if your sister agrees.”

“I do not mind,” she mumbled as her heart skipped a beat.

Mr. Harcourt took a seat at the small table between Winnie and Warren. “What have you been doing these days, Master Thirley? Harriet is keeping you busy, no doubt,” he started, preparing himself a cup of tea and a plate of sweets.

“Yes,” Warren giggled. “Miss Harriet knows all the best places to see and things to do.”

Winnie smiled down into her teacup. She appreciated Mr. Harcourt’s willingness to engage with her brother. Then again, Winnie had seen plenty of evidence over the summer that if anything, Mr. Harcourt was a wonderful brother himself.

The boy eagerly bit down on another pastry, a few crumbs tumbling from his lips. Winnie stole the opportunity to ask Mr. Harcourt the same question, eager to discover what had been keeping him away.

For the first time ever, he looked quite frazzled. Winnie almost apologized for prying since she knew nothing of his situation. She stopped herself at the last moment. She did want to know. She wanted him to share his burdens with her. Again, Winnie marveled at the transformation she had undergone. What had become of the Winnie who had prayed for Mr. Harcourt to never look in her direction or open his mouth in her presence again?

Mr. Harcourt sighed heavily, rubbing his tensed jaw. Winnie noticed dark gray circles under his eyes.

“I suppose the secret must come out eventually,” he mumbled with a weary chuckle.

Winnie’s pulse froze, fear racing through her. He could not be courting someone, could he? From the hints Winnie had heard, his family certainly wanted him to. She knew he must settle down soon as the heir to a barony. Did he spend sleepless nights dreaming about his sweetheart? Did he slip away every day to visit her?

“I have been rather busy working on a large project. Mama, Papa, and I have been planning a festival for the town and the neighboring estates. I must confess, it has been more work than I anticipated.”

Feeling returned to Winnie’s limbs as Mr. Harcourt’s explanation sank in, only to be replaced by a startling confusion. Why on Earth should Winnie care whether Mr. Harcourt had a sweetheart? Why had her chest ached at the thought of him being whisked away by some pretty, vibrant, kind woman?

“Goodness, that does sound stressful.” Winnie finally found her voice again, banishing those disturbing thoughts to the furthest corner of her mind. “Was this her ladyship’s idea? It seems like just the type of event she would love.”

The young man gave Winnie a knowing smile, just the same type of smile that used to infuriate her. This time, it sent her stomach into sweet flutters.

“As a matter of fact, the festival was my idea,” he said proudly. “It has been several years since we gathered everyone in the area for a bit of fun. This summer simply seemed like a good time to do it. Besides, it will give you and your family a chance to mingle with the rest of our community.”

“What a charming idea,” Winnie agreed quietly, with genuine interest rather than her usual spite.

“And…” Winnie almost did not hear Mr. Harcourt when he spoke again. He trailed off, brows furrowed in contemplation.

“And?” Winnie prompted, tilting her head to the side to get a better view of this handsome expression.

Mr. Harcourt lifted his head, looking straight into Winnie’s eyes with breathtaking intensity. “I thought it might also provide an opportunity to see how the townspeople and our neighbors are doing—to see if there is anything the Harcourts can help them with.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, well aware of the fact that her lips had parted of their own accord, impressed by his initiative. Clearly, she had underestimated Mr. Harcourt’s interest in his responsibilities.

“There is no need to look so awestruck, Miss Thirley,” he laughed, the sound spilling out and enveloping Winnie in its warmth. “You may not believe it, but I do have good ideas quite often.”

Winnie gave an awkward cough, tearing her eyes away from Mr. Harcourt. He had read her so easily. She picked up her teacup with as much grace as she could muster despite the hammering of her heart. “I will have to see that before I believe it.”

Mr. Harcourt laughed again, drawing Winnie out of her embarrassment. She joined in, Warren looking back and forth between the two adults with a quizzically raised eyebrow. That only caused them to laugh even harder. Winnie lost herself in the simple joy of the moment, forgetting to cover her mouth with her hand as a proper lady should. At least Mr. Harcourt did not seem to mind.

Winnie did not see much of him for the next week as the festival entered its final phase of planning and preparation. When the day finally arrived, Winnie buzzed with an unfamiliar excitement, distracting her from the usual tense atmosphere in her family’s coach. Mr. Harcourt and his parents had long since arrived at Caston, the town nearest Attwood Manor, leaving the Thirleys and the remaining Harcourts to follow in separate carriages at the appointed time.

Just like Warren, Winnie peered out the window on her side of the coach, eager to catch a glimpse of Mr. Harcourt’s hard work. As the crowd came into view, spilling onto the fields surrounding the town proper, flags and streamers waving in the gentle wind, Winnie prayed with everything in her heart that the event would work out just as Mr. Harcourt wished.

The two carriages stopped side by side and Miss Harcourt appeared almost instantly at Winnie’s door. The two young women smiled at each other, the excitement of such a grand, amusing event radiating off their glowing faces. Winnie had never expected to feel so relaxed and liberated, especially not at Attwood Manor. Yet she was immensely thankful that she would be able to enjoy this day as intended, without the rigid nature she had cultivated over the last decade.

Miss Harcourt looped her arm through Winnie’s. They began their leisurely walk through the festival, their eyes wide with amazement while still managing to watch after their younger siblings. Satisfied that Winnie would look after Warren, Mr. and Mrs. Thirley soon wandered off into two different directions. Winnie only wished that the Waynfords had come with them, though they promised to stop by later in the day. They would be returning to Essex soon and had many preparations to attend to.

Winnie had never seen anything quite like Mr. Harcourt’s festival. Everywhere she turned, there was something exciting or interesting to see or do. Local craftsmen had set up booths to show off their wares and the park in the middle of Caston had been overtaken by lawn games. The fragrance of food drifted to Winnie from all directions. Though she was still full from breakfast, she longed to try a bite or sip of every delicious item on display. Musicians had been stationed at various points through the town and the surrounding fields. A few clowns wandered up and down the streets, bringing laughter wherever they went.

Best of all, the visitors seemed to be having a wonderful time. Every face carried a smile, eyes gleaming and staring in wonder. Children ran about and spectators cheered for the lawn game players. Warren had won a toy from one of the craftsmen for speaking a few phrases in French, a little wooden pony. He had offered it to Miss Harriet, who had cheerfully refused, stating that she would rather win a toy for herself.

Unfortunately, Winnie only saw Mr. Harcourt from afar as he greeted guests, offered directions or suggestions, and mingled with the crowd. He looked so at ease with everyone. The people seemed to adore him.

Mr. Harcourt shared a hearty laugh with a local farmer, clapping him on the shoulder as if they were dear old friends and not two men from completely different worlds. Winnie looked away from the heartwarming scene. She could not say the same for herself thanks to the cold image she projected. No one ever wanted to approach her.

For some reason, today seemed different. She wondered if perhaps Miss Harcourt had something to do with it. Winnie had heard numerous times that Miss Harcourt was the county beauty. She always received smiles wherever she went. Maybe everyone liked Winnie simply because she was Miss Harcourt’s friend.

The townspeople smiled at her, and a few even stopped them to ask where Winnie was from since they did not recognize her. Winnie tried not to be too flattered. Anyone would feel generous and friendly on a wonderful day like this, especially when the chance to talk with the stunning Miss Harcourt presented itself.

Winnie’s theory was soon put to the test as Miss Harriet bounced off toward a lady who had brought her piglets to entertain the children.

“Harriet, wait!” Miss Harcourt called after her youngest sibling. “Goodness, please excuse me, Miss Thirley. I shall be right back with my troublesome sister.” With an almost inaudible groan, Miss Harcourt detached herself from Winnie’s side and hurried after Miss Harriet, her eyes glued to the girl’s head as she weaved between the festival guests.

“Can I see the piglets, too, Winnie?” Warren asked as he ran back to his sister. Winnie thanked God that Warren knew better than to leave her sight on a whim.

“Soon, I promise. Why don’t we wait until our friends return so we can all go together?”

With a slight pout, Warren accepted Winnie’s gentle instructions. “Is that a bilboquet?” he gasped as his eyes landed on the booth next to them.

“Yes it is, my dear lad,” the man behind the booth announced, eyes shining with pride beneath bushy gray brows. “Hand-crafted by yours truly.”

“May I try it?” Warren asked, the epitome of perfect politeness within childlike excitement.

“Most certainly! But only if your lovely sister finds it agreeable.”

Winnie’s eyes widened in surprise. She had not expected the craftsman to notice her, let alone draw attention to her.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed quickly. The words had barely made it out of Winnie’s mouth before Warren snatched the toy, immediately trying and failing to catch the ball in the cup.

Winnie chuckled as she watched her younger brother play with the toy. He had had one, of course, but had not had much opportunity to use it lately. He spent more and more time learning from his tutor instead of playing games.

She sighed wistfully as Warren cheered when the pesky ball finally landed in the cup. He beamed at Winnie and she clapped for his success. She so missed his younger days, when he looked this lighthearted all the time. But that was the nature of growing up, she knew.

“How much for the toy?” Winnie asked the craftsman before she even realized what she was saying.

He scratched at his beard, looking from Winnie to Warren, who had adopted a pleading expression. “I will give it to you half-price, ma’am, since it has been so long since I have seen such a lovely lady.”

Winnie was so shocked that she took half a step back, her mouth in danger of dangling open. Despite her surprise, she managed to cling to her manners, only allowing her mouth to open when she finally had something to say.

“I cannot allow that, sir. That would be very unfair,” Winnie tried to insist. The man just bellowed with laughter.

“You have been the fairest part of my day, to be sure.” He gave Winnie a playful smile, barely visible beneath his thick beard.

“Please, Winnie?” Warren wrapped his arms around his older sister’s waist, staring up at her with those lovely eyes that she could never resist.

“Very well then, but only if you are absolutely certain.” Winnie did her best to utilize her firm, proper voice. Still, she could not hide her smile.

“Without a doubt, ma’am.” The craftsman grinned at Winnie before leaning over the booth to come nearly face-to-face with Warren, winking at the boy. Warren already had the bilboquet in his hands by the time Winnie handed the money over to the craftsman.

An airy giggle from just behind her made Winnie spin around. Miss Harcourt’s eyes glowed with amusement while one hand gripped Miss Harriet’s shoulder to keep her from wandering away again. “Goodness, Miss Thirley, you are quite popular today.”

“Good day, ma’am. Be sure to come back soon!” the craftsman called out after Winnie as her group moved on, Miss Harcourt’s arm through hers once more.

“Popular may be too strong a word,” Winnie mumbled, surprisingly shy.

“Do not underestimate yourself,” Miss Harcourt insisted, patting Winnie’s hand as if she completely and utterly believed every word she said. “Everyone in town loves you. In fact, just now I had several people stop me to ask about the lovely young lady at Mr. Shelton’s booth.”

Heat crept up Winnie’s neck at the thought of people being curious about her in a positive way. Perhaps, over time, she had become more relaxed, her icy outer layer melting away ever so slightly. She certainly felt happy and warm today.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in an exhilarating blur, the activity and joy invigorating Winnie. Mr. and Mrs. Waynford had finally joined, leaving Miss Waynford with her nurse. They had also convinced Mr. Patrick to abandon the library for a few hours. Though he was a very studious young man, even Mr. Patrick appreciated the blissful spirit of the festivities. The Waynfords immediately went in search of Lord and Lady Welsted while Mr. Patrick slipped away to look at a lovely display of hand-crafted trinkets.

Just as they came around to the field of lawn games, Miss Harriet begged Miss Harcourt to take her for refreshments. Warren dutifully followed his new friend. Rather unexpectedly, Winnie found herself standing next to Mr. Harcourt, quite alone save for the dozens of spectators, players, and visitors. He watched the game of cricket unfolding on the field intently, his eyes glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

“Ah! That was a good hit, was it not?” he asked the little boy, no more than five or six, standing next to him.

“Yes!” he cried, bouncing up and down on his toes. “Those are my older brothers there!”

“Goodness, if they are this skilled at cricket, I can only imagine how good you will be when you grow up.” Mr. Harcourt smiled down at the boy, looking for all the world as if the child was his own brother.

The boy cheered, fascinated by the action of the game. Mr. Harcourt turned to Winnie with an exhausted yet satisfied sigh.

“So we meet at last. Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Thirley?”

“Very much so. You should be very proud of yourself for pulling off such a fantastic event,” Winnie answered honestly, taking a small step to the side to bring herself just a little closer to Mr. Harcourt. Their shoulders almost touched, just a sliver of space between them.

Mr. Harcourt looked down at the grass, his cheeks turning pale pink. “I appreciate the compliment, but Mama and Papa really did much of the work as well. I am not solely responsible for what you see here.”

Winnie smiled widely, the muscles in her face almost unused to the sensation. It only took a moment for it to feel natural again—for this peace and friendliness to feel natural.

“You should be proud regardless,” she insisted gently. “Look around you, Mr. Harcourt. Everyone is having a wonderful time. This would not have happened if you had not put the plan in motion. Besides, I refuse to believe that you hardly did any work. The circles under your eyes speak the truth.”

Normally, Winnie would have never commented so casually on someone else’s appearance, especially to draw attention to something less than perfect. Emboldened by the cheerful day and by the certainty brewing in her heart, Winnie had taken the risk.

The gentleman chuckled, dragging a hand down his face. “Have I really looked that terrible?” he asked with that teasing smile Winnie had come to enjoy, the smile she had missed while he had been busy planning the festival.

“I am afraid so,” Winnie whispered with exaggerated gloom.

“So you truly think the festival is going well? Everyone likes it?” he asked, turning to face Winnie straight on.

“Very much so, yes.” Winnie smiled, hoping he would see the warmth and joy in her face that he had inspired through this beautiful day.

He nodded, letting out a deep breath of relief. “I hope you are right.”

Mr. Harcourt looked around at the field where people played cricket and watched with animated grins, then over to the rows of booths where locals sold their wares, and the nearby group of musicians who played a jolly song that had a small group of spectators clapping and dancing along.

Winnie doubted that he had really had much time to appreciate his own handiwork, to realize the impact this festival had had and the cheer it had brought. He still looked anxious though his shoulders had fallen slightly, relaxed. A sudden urge to put her hand on that strong, broad shoulder overtook Winnie. Perhaps she would have actually done it had it not been for Miss Harriet bursting onto the scene, breaking the spell.

“Dalton, look! You will not believe what I have found!” she cried out from behind them.

Mr. Harcourt chuckled, leaning down to bring his face closer to Winnie’s. “I have no problem believing that Harriet has found some trouble or other,” he chuckled before turning to his sister.

Winnie was rooted to her spot, her limbs tingling as she clung to the closeness they had shared for a moment. If she had just turned her face ever so slightly, their lips might have touched.

“Harriet! What on Earth!”

Mr. Harcourt’s shock snapped Winnie out of her daze. She whirled around to see Miss Harriet standing before them, cheeks rosy with excitement. She carried a strangely lumpy blanket in her arms. Mr. Harcourt peered at it, both surprised and intrigued. Winnie stepped up beside him to get a better look. She gasped when the blanket moved, a bit of fabric falling away to reveal an impossibly tiny paw.

“Please do not be mad,” Miss Harriet pleaded, seeming to only just now realize the possible consequences of her actions. “I found them abandoned in an alley without their mother.”

Mr. Harcourt groaned, rubbing at the crease that had just formed between his brows. “Harriet, what am I meant to do? I am in the middle of a very busy day.”

The girl looked down at the squirming bundle, one of the puppies letting out the smallest, saddest squeak. Winnie’s heart went out to her. She could see the distress in Miss Harriet’s eyes, her longing to make things right for these defenseless, motherless creatures. For all her wild recklessness, Miss Harriet’s heart was always in the right place.

“If you cannot help me, I will simply figure it out on my own.” Her head snapped up, bright green eyes challenging her older brother.

“Harriet!” another voice called out, strained and frustrated. “How many times must I tell you not to run off? You really are too old for this behavior now. What kind of proper young lady just takes a litter of puppies? They could be diseased for all you know!”

Miss Harcourt had finally caught up to her troublesome charge, chest heaving up and down rapidly. Winnie gave the younger woman a rueful smile, wondering how long she had been chasing Miss Harriet. Of course, the girl’s free nature granted her a speed that Miss Harcourt’s perfectly developed manners and grace would never allow for. Still, quite a few strands of Miss Harcourt’s dark hair had come undone in her haste to stop her sister, her annoyance evident in the flash of her eyes.

“Do not worry, Miss Harriet. We can help them,” Warren mumbled, breaking free from Miss Harcourt’s hand.

Mr. Harcourt’s eyes darted from the children to the puppies to Miss Harcourt, mind racing for a solution. “Right, everyone, this is what we shall do.”

Winnie immediately returned her attention to him, the firmness in his voice taking her by surprise. Not long ago, she had wondered at his ability to carry his duties properly, to act with authority. Now, seeing the hard set of his jaw and the way he gazed at their group with determination, all of Winnie’s doubts vanished. He clearly knew when a situation required a strong hand.

The rest of the group watched, awaiting Mr. Harcourt’s orders.

“Caroline, why don’t you go and find somewhere to rest? You have done plenty already. I shall find Mama and Papa and let them know that I will be occupied for a while. Then Harriet, Master Thirley, and I will search the festival for willing folks to take in these pups.”

“Thank goodness,” Miss Harcourt sighed with relief, fanning her flushed face with a gloved hand while Warren and Miss Harriet beamed at each other.

Winnie felt a prickle of disappointment when she realized that Mr. Harcourt did not have a plan for her. “What of me?” she asked, hoping to sound helpful rather than indignant.

Mr. Harcourt’s lovely eyes found hers. Their usual humor had returned despite this frustrating development. “Would you help me find my parents? Caroline can watch the children until we get back.”

“Dalton, you said I would be relieved of these maddening duties,” Miss Harcourt whined, so flustered by now that she could not help allowing her natural poise to slip away.

“I promise it will not take long. I thought I saw Papa somewhere nearby just a few minutes ago.” With a grin, Mr. Harcourt grasped his younger sister’s chin in his fingers.

“Stop this nonsense!” Miss Harcourt cried, swatting his hand away. “Go on then. And hurry!” she commanded, barely able to stifle her smile.

Mr. Harcourt offered his arm to Winnie. She took it without hesitation. Despite the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions running rampant through her mind, being on Mr. Harcourt’s arm felt almost comforting—perhaps even normal.

“Caroline can never be mad at me for too long,” he whispered conspiratorially as they made their way through the crowd. “She always tries to be so proper, but I know she still has some of that childlike spark in her.”

Winnie’s voice died in her throat. She could not think of anything thoughtful or rational to say, her mind nothing more than a hazy mess. She had once thought Mr. Harcourt to be an ignorant fool without any regard for others. These last few minutes had completely convinced her of her miscalculation.

“Say, your family would not be interested in bringing a puppy back to Risin Hall, would they?” Mr. Harcourt asked after a few moments of wandering down a row of booths, his playful smile somehow both charming and frustrating to Winnie. She could not sort herself out. Mr. Harcourt’s handsome expressions and humorous words certainly did not help.

“I am afraid Mother and Father are not the types to enjoy pets,” she said with a melancholy shrug.

“What a shame,” Mr. Harcourt hummed. Winnie glanced up at him from under her bonnet. He did look quite disappointed on her behalf. Without thinking or knowing why, Winnie felt compelled to share something, anything with him.

“I had wanted one as a girl, though I would have preferred a kitten rather than a puppy. They had promised to get me one when I was a bit older and could help care for it, but then Warren had been born, and Mother and Father did not want any filthy animals hurting him.”

“A terrible shame indeed,” he muttered, gazing down at Winnie with genuine sadness.

Her heart ached to see the care and concern in his eyes. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like this. And all this over the absence of a childhood pet. Winnie wondered how else this man might care for her, if he cared this deeply over such a trivial topic.

“If you do not mind my asking…” Mr. Harcourt started hesitantly.

Winnie took a deep breath, bracing herself for his question. She already had some idea of what it would be. She knew she could have changed the subject or outright told him that she did mind.

The truth was simple. Winnie did not mind at all. She had been the one to open up this topic of conversation. Besides, anyone could see that the Thirley family did not care for each other like the Harcourt family did. It must have been painfully obvious during the past few months.

“Be my guest,” Winnie responded quietly.

“Your relationship with your parents…. It is not very close, is it?” He glanced down at her, nervously watching for her reaction.

“That is an understatement.” Winnie smiled bitterly, staring straight ahead.

Though she had long since accepted this fact, speaking about it to Mr. Harcourt brought painful feelings of rejection to the surface. Her throat felt thick with emotion. She feared that she might cry if she looked into Mr. Harcourt’s kind, understanding face.

“I am terribly sorry to hear that,” Mr. Harcourt mumbled.

Much to her surprise, Winnie found herself speaking again. “As absurd as it sounds, I would not change it,” she admitted. “I have my brother now, after all. They may not love me the same way they love him, but he loves me. That is enough.”

Mr. Harcourt sighed with a mixture of sadness and regret. “I do not know why I ever thought you were made of stone.”

Winnie was spared from having to form a response or spend any more time puzzling over the way Mr. Harcourt’s words had touched the deepest part of her heart. She spied Lord and Lady Welsted chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Waynford and another couple near a group of musicians. She could only raise a finger in their direction, her voice failing her once more.

Mr. Harcourt rushed over to his parents, pulling Winnie along beside him. “There you are! I swear, Caroline will have my head if I do not return soon.”

“Pardon us for just a moment.” Lady Welsted smiled sweetly at their companions, leaving her daughter and son-in-law to continue the conversation, before turning sharply to Mr. Harcourt. “Dalton, whatever is the matter?”

“You see, we have a situation—a Harriet situation.” Mr. Harcourt chuckled, shaking his head.

Realization dawned on the baron and baroness at the same time. They exchanged an exasperated glance. “And what might that situation be?” Mr. Harcourt’s father asked, rubbing at the spot between his brows just as his son had done a few minutes ago.

To Winnie’s surprise, Mr. Harcourt tensed slightly at Lord Welsted’s question. “I can explain later. This is nothing I cannot handle on my own. I just wanted to inform you that I will be busy managing this development for some time.”

“Really, Dalton, perhaps I—”

“It is fine, Papa. I will take care of it,” Mr. Harcourt insisted with a sharpness in his voice that Winnie had never heard before.

“Very well then. We can manage here.” Lord Welsted gave a hesitant nod.

“Thank you both for all your help today.” Mr. Harcourt turned on his heel, Winnie once again struggling to keep up.

He bristled silently the whole way back. Winnie felt it best to leave him alone to his thoughts. She did not have any right to pry into his life. Or did she? Is that not what friends did? She was not sure anymore. It had been so long since she had had one.

Winnie still agonized over her decision when they returned to Miss Harcourt, Miss Harriet, and Warren. She chided herself for letting the opportunity slip away to learn more about Mr. Harcourt and offer her support. Perhaps she could find another chance later. It suddenly seemed very important to her that the gentleman knew how she felt.

“Thank goodness! I had really begun to think you had run off,” Miss Harcourt groaned, crossing her arms defiantly.

Her older brother softened, the atmosphere surrounding him slowly returning to its familiar lighthearted geniality. “I would never dream of it, Caroline. I know you would find me sooner or later and give me such a fierce scolding that I would wish I had never been born.”

Miss Harcourt jutted her chin into the air. “Good. I am glad you are aware of the consequences. You have made a wise choice today.”

Winnie giggled behind her hand at their good-natured teasing. Only siblings who truly, deeply loved each other could say such things without offending.

“Yes, I certainly did,” Mr. Harcourt answered softly, surprising Winnie. He sounded like a completely different person than he had been just moments ago when speaking with his father. Winnie looked up into his face, her heart stopping when she saw that he watched her from the corner of his eye.

“I shall be off to find Patrick. Lord knows I will not find any trouble with him,” the younger woman huffed dramatically.

Miss Harriet bowed her head, staring sadly into the blanket full of helpless puppies. Miss Harcourt paused, one foot already raised to carry her away from this frustrating situation. She sighed, turning back to her youngest sibling.

“Oh, come here, Harriet.” She held her arms out to the girl, who smiled shyly as Miss Harcourt gave her a hug. The puppies did not make that easy, but Miss Harcourt did her best. “You are such a unique girl with a heart of gold,” she mumbled, resting a hand on her sister’s cheek. “Just be a little more mindful in the future of leaving our sight in such a crowded place, please. You know we could not stand it if something happened to you.”

Winnie’s heart melted as the sisters shared this tender moment. For all of Miss Harcourt’s theatrics and her occasional arrogance, she truly was a gentle and loving young woman. The whole family clearly adored Miss Harriet despite all her exasperating and willful behavior.

“You know, you have a heart of gold, too, Caroline—when you bother to show it.” Mr. Harcourt smiled slyly at his sister, as if he had heard Winnie’s thoughts and stole them to tease the younger woman.

“That is it,” Miss Harcourt snapped. “I really am off.” She spun around on her heel, hurrying away in the opposite direction.

“We must be off, too,” Mr. Harcourt gently reminded the youngsters. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. Are you both sure you are up for the task?” He raised an eyebrow at them in a subtle challenge.

“Of course! It was my idea, really,” Miss Harriet cried, sounding a touch like her older sister.

“I want to help, too!” Warren immediately agreed, his eyes bright with excitement. Winnie thanked God once more that her brother had been able to have so much fun this summer despite the rocky start.

Winnie glanced over to Mr. Harcourt. Even she found herself having a positive experience despite being so sure that it would be a disaster from start to finish. Mr. Harcourt grinned at the children, looking like a younger version of himself. For once, Winnie did not find the expression immature or silly. He looked so free, so vibrant. Perhaps Winnie could become like that, too, if she spent enough time in his company.

“I will leave it up to the two of you to present your cases to the townsfolk and visitors, but Miss Thirley and I will be nearby should you need assistance,” he announced with a serious nod.

Unsurprisingly, Miss Harriet accepted the challenge immediately, bounding off to the nearest group of spectators still transfixed by the cricket match, Warren quickly catching up.

Mr. Harcourt chuckled ruefully. “I probably would not have started with that lot. Nothing can distract them from cricket, not even an armful of puppies.”

“I suppose we shall let them learn that lesson for themselves,” Winnie sighed with exaggerated woe.

Naturally, Miss Harriet and Warren did not have any luck with the cricket crowd. Still, they pressed on, stopping every person they could and showing off their lovely little friends. Winnie and Mr. Harcourt watched from a distance, though the youngsters handled the task just fine on their own.

Eventually, the puppies found new homes, one by one. Night fell, torches springing up to keep the festival going, Winnie walking arm in arm with Mr. Harcourt all the while. Leaving Warren and Miss Harriet to their own devices for the most part, they slipped into easy, carefree conversation.

Winnie wondered if Mr. Harcourt was puzzled by her change in demeanor. Even when she had agreed to be his friend that day in the garden, Winnie had not exactly acted thrilled about it. If he was confused, he did not show it. Instead, he seemed almost grateful that they could speak more freely now. Winnie wished the night would never end. Once it did, so would all these blissful, peaceful feelings.

“The festival will be drawing to a close soon,” Mr. Harcourt whispered with a hint of sadness. Winnie’s head jerked up to stare at him. Had he read her mind again?

“We should go check on their progress,” he suggested, nodding toward Warren and Miss Harriet.

“Yes, certainly,” Winnie agreed, her voice sounding oddly strained. They walked faster, closing the distance between themselves and the children.

“Mr. Harcourt, sir…I am so terribly sorry to bother you, but do you have a moment?” A man appeared by their side, stepping out from the doorway of a nearby shop as they went past.

Winnie and Mr. Harcourt jolted to a stop, both staring in surprise at the stranger. He did look rather distressed, his eyes darting from them to his dirt-stained hands. He looked to be in his early thirties, though time had clearly taken its toll on him. His shoulders sloped forward, his mouth pulled down in a weary frown.

“Of course I do,” Mr. Harcourt said gently after a moment of thought. “Miss Thirley, would you see to it that the children wrap up their mission soon?”

He did not wait for her answer, simply removing her hand from his arm before stepping away to join the man in a quiet spot. Winnie already missed the contact, the heat his closeness had provided. She missed feeling his gait beside her and hearing his calm breathing.

Still, she could only obey, knowing that the townspeople had legitimate reasons for needing Mr. Harcourt, and that she needed to keep an eye on their siblings. With one last look at Mr. Harcourt, head bent low as the man urgently shared some sort of information with him, his expression serious and thoughtful, Winnie hurried after her charges.

“Miss Harriet, Warren, have you found homes for all the puppies?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful, as if by fooling them she could fool herself.

The children shared a nervous glance. Winnie tilted her head, waiting for their explanation. Whatever it was, she knew it was about to complicate things.

“We have found homes for all of them, Miss Thirley…” the girl started, choosing her words carefully. “All but one.”

“Oh, dear,” Winnie sighed, tapping her fingers against her cheek.

That would indeed complicate things. After all, they had come so far and managed to place the other puppies with new owners. They could not leave this last one behind. Most of the world may have thought Winnie to be heartless and unfeeling, but even she would not leave a poor, lonely puppy to suffer on its own.

“What should we do, Winnie?” Warren asked in a small, somber voice. The boy looked heartbroken at the thought of failing this innocent creature.

Something tugged at Winnie’s memory and she fell silent, following its call. Her earlier conversation with Mr. Harcourt echoed through her mind. She instantly knew what to do.

“Let us have a look,” she said, stepping closer to Miss Harriet. The girl shifted the now deflated blanket in her arms, revealing a little white thing with light brown splotches. Its large dark brown eyes stared up at Winnie, stumpy legs flailing about at the sudden exposure to the open air.

Winnie smiled down at the puppy, knowing it had already found its home. “Why don’t you see if your mama and papa will allow you to keep this one? You did a very kind and selfless thing today, and I think they will be very proud of you.”

“Do you think they will let me?” Miss Harriet asked, eyes wide with awe.

“I am not sure, but it cannot hurt too much to ask. If need be, I will tell them that I put you up to it,” Winnie promised. She certainly did not want the girl to get in trouble for her idea. “But you must promise that you will care for this sweet creature with all your heart, to the best of your ability.”

Miss Harriet nodded with a surprisingly mature determination. “I promise. He will be my responsibility and no one else’s.”

“Excellent.” Winnie beamed down at the girl. She had no doubt that Miss Harriet would keep her word. “Let us go find Lord and Lady Welsted.”

Winnie glanced over her shoulder to see Mr. Harcourt still deep in conversation with the farmer. She did not want to disappear without warning, nor did she want to interrupt him. They needed to discuss this with the baron and baroness as soon as possible. After all, if they refused to take the puppy in, Winnie would have to come up with another plan.

Mr. Harcourt seemed to sense Winnie’s gaze. His eyes met hers for a moment, giving Winnie just enough time to tilt her head in the other direction, indicating that they had somewhere else to be. He gave an almost imperceptible nod before returning his full attention to the man before him.

With that taken care of, Winnie led the children through the crowd, peering between heads and shoulders for some glimpse of Lord and Lady Welsted. Though many people had gone home after dark, many more still lingered, not wanting to waste a single moment of the festivities. It did make finding specific people difficult, however.

“Patrick! Caroline!” Miss Harriet called, taking a few running steps forward before stopping, giving Winnie a sheepish apology. She had indeed learned her lesson about wandering off, at least for today.

“Harriet, what is that in your arms?” Mr. Patrick asked, stepping away from a small group gathered around a clown putting on some sort of humorous performance.

Miss Harcourt sighed dramatically. “You will hardly believe it. I feel as though I have only just escaped from this madness.”

“Shh, Caroline! Do not spoil the surprise. Patrick, I will show you later, I hope.” Miss Harriet tightened her grip around the blanket, being sure to shield the puppy from view. She would not let anyone, not even her beloved siblings, get in her way now that she had a plan. “Have you seen Mama and Papa?”

Mr. Patrick eyed the trio suspiciously. His curiosity soon overtook his caution. “I last saw them by a pastry booth just over there. That was only a few minutes ago, I think, so they should still be nearby.”

“Thank you, brother! Here, I will give you a peek as a reward,” Miss Harriet chirped, gently pulling back the folds of the blanket.

The young man’s eyes widened with surprise before turning soft at the sight of the adorable puppy. “I cannot wait to see how this turns out,” he chuckled, ruffling his sister’s hair. Even Miss Harcourt had to smile at the little creature.

They set off in the direction Mr. Patrick had indicated. Sure enough, they soon came across Lord and Lady Welsted, still sampling a wonderful selection of pastries made by the local baker. Miss Harriet hesitated, which caused both Winnie and Warren to stare at her in shock. Miss Harriet hardly hesitated for anything, even when she should.

“Miss Harriet?” Winnie asked gently, peering into the girl’s face. She glanced from Winnie to her parents to the puppy she clung to.

“What if they say no?” she whispered.

Winnie’s heart melted. Even brave Miss Harriet had fears. “If they do, we will simply find a different solution. But we will never know unless we try, yes?”

Miss Harriet took a deep breath, reaching into the blanket to stroke the puppy’s tiny head with her finger. It responded to her touch, nuzzling back with its pink nose. The girl smiled and nodded.

Together, Winnie, Miss Harriet, and Warren marched toward the baron and baroness. They spotted the group coming toward them, turning with cheery smiles that quickly transformed into looks of wariness.

“I take it this is the Harriet situation Dalton spoke of earlier?” Lady Welsted asked Winnie with bemused exasperation.

“Yes, it is,” Winnie confessed, suddenly feeling nervous. She had come to like Lady Welsted, admiring her perfect balance of warmth and grace. She did not want to end up on the baroness’s bad side. What had Winnie been thinking, telling Miss Harriet to adopt this puppy? That was not her place.

“Go on then, Harriet.” The baroness turned her attention to her youngest child, her husband putting a calming hand on the small of her back.

“You see,” Miss Harriet started, nervous at first before growing more confident, “we found this abandoned litter of puppies without their mother. They looked so dreadfully sad and lonely and I could not bear to see them suffer. So, we went around the festival giving them away to people who could take them in. And, well…” she faltered, her gaze dropping to the last puppy, cradled safely in her arms.

“We truly did our best,” Winnie continued. “All but one has found a new family to care for them.”

Lord Welsted gripped his chin thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched his daughter. Winnie’s heart dropped, terrified that she had set this poor girl up for disappointment. Just as she opened her mouth to confess that this whole mad idea had been hers, the baron smiled his gentle, understanding smile.

“I suppose you want to see if there is room at Attwood Manor for this little one?” he asked.

Miss Harriet nodded sharply, her mouth set in a firm line. “I will care for him myself and ensure he never bothers you.”

The baron appeared to deliberate, glancing at his wife who played along perfectly, brows furrowed in contemplation. Miss Harriet shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she watched her parents, hope and anxiety battling in her eyes.

Finally, Lord Welsted put his daughter out of her misery. “As a matter of fact, I think it has been far too long since Attwood Manor had a dog roaming its halls.”

Miss Harriet and Warren both cheered. “Did you hear that?” the girl said to the now squirming blanket in her arms. “You can come home with us!”

“Just remember, Harriet, that you have accepted responsibility for him,” Lady Welsted reminded firmly, though she did not try to hide her smile.

With her mission accomplished, Miss Harriet had tuned out the rest of the world. She poured out words of love to her new friend, detailing all the adventures they would have in the years to come.

Winnie sighed with relief. She had not realized until just now that she had also become very invested in the outcome of this task. Best of all, though, was the look of pride, accomplishment, and happiness on both children’s faces. This had been an important lesson for them, one she hoped they would carry with them well into their adulthoods.

“Thank you for all your help today, Miss Thirley.” The baroness watched Winnie with something strange twinkling in her eyes. Winnie could not quite make it out. Could it be interest? Anticipation?

“I am always happy to help, my lady. Miss Harriet is such a sweet young lady with a strong will to do the right thing,” Winnie responded, looking away from the woman’s mysterious gaze. She had no idea why Lady Welsted would look at her in such a way. Winnie really had not had much to do with anything.

“A strong will indeed,” Lady Welsted chuckled, watching her daughter gently bounce the creature in her arms. “Ah, speaking of strong wills.”

The baroness looked past Winnie, smiling at a figure approaching through the flickering shadows. Mr. Harcourt’s grin came into focus first, shining out amongst the dancing flames of the nearby torches.

“It looks as though we have a new member of the family,” he said, his eyes darting to Winnie for a fraction of a second.

“We did it, Dalton!” Miss Harriet cried, running up to her brother, holding the puppy out to him. “We found homes for all of them, even this one.”

Mr. Harcourt smiled down at his sister with such love and pride that it sent a deliciously warm wave of contentment through Winnie. “You did an excellent job, dear Harriet. Your next job will be finding a name for our little friend.”

He pinched her cheek, giving it a gentle shake. Miss Harriet giggled, joy radiating out from every inch of her body.

“Mama, Papa, it is about time to start rounding up our party. I will be sending the rest of the crowd and participants home soon,” he announced, his shoulders drooping slightly as the exhaustion of the day caught up with him.

The baron and baroness set off to find the rest of their family while Mr. and Mrs. Thirley rejoined them from a nearby musical performance. Miss Harriet and Warren followed, embroiled in a serious discussion about names for the puppy. Winnie did not miss the way Mrs. Thirley’s mouth curled slightly in distaste as Warren told her the story of their grand adventure.

Mr. Harcourt brought up the rear, Winnie by his side. They walked slowly, silently, the warm night air and low light from the torches enveloping them in an almost private world within this lively crowd.

“I would like to offer my sincerest congratulations on a successful event.” Winnie broke the silence, overcome by a sudden longing to hear the soothing tones of Mr. Harcourt’s voice.

“Thank you, Miss Thirley.” He gave her a small smile, the weariness in his eyes evident.

“You do not sound very relieved,” Winnie pressed gently. “Did it not go as you wished?”

“No, I think it went as well as I could have hoped,” Mr. Harcourt confessed, that crease appearing between his brows once more.

“Does something trouble you?” Winnie asked cautiously.

Mr. Harcourt’s mouth pulled down on one side, thoughtful and worried as he wondered what or if he should share with Winnie.

“The gentleman who came to see me…. He brought some issues to my attention that will need to be addressed,” he said.

“Such as?” Winnie pressed a little further, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I am sure you do not want to hear it,” Mr. Harcourt said with a small smile that failed to hide his gloom.

Winnie stopped, and so did he. She turned to face him, desperately hoping that he would see the sincerity in her eyes. “I am sure I do.”

The rest of the group carried on without them and townspeople still milled about, dodging the pair who had stopped in the middle of the walkway. As far as Winnie was concerned, no others existed in the world at that moment but herself and Mr. Harcourt.

“You may tell me whatever is on your mind,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise surrounding them. Yet she knew that he heard her. “Is that not what friends do, Dalton?”

Something burned inside Winnie. It was not shame or embarrassment, as she knew she should have felt at calling a gentleman by his Christian name. No, she knew now. The thing that burned inside her was desire. Despite their past, despite her pain, despite her absolute confidence that she had had Mr. Harcourt figured out, Winnie found herself longing to come closer to him, to rebuild the bridge they had burnt before they had even had a chance to truly meet.

Mr. Harcourt’s lovely eyes went round with surprise, his brows shooting up, almost hidden by the soft light brown locks that tumbled across his forehead. Winnie did not apologize, nor did she remove her gaze. She rarely backed down when she knew she was right, after all.

He stared at her in silence for a moment, his expression growing softer, perhaps even mirroring the desire Winnie felt in her own heart. His breathing had become shallow, his eyes roaming over Winnie’s face, resting briefly on her lips.

“I suppose you are right, Winifred,” he finally responded, his voice low and deep, more serious than Winnie had ever heard.

“Winnie.” She smiled, feeling such a foreign lightness that she thought she might float away with the next gust of wind.

“Winnie it is,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling under the starlight.

She had despised her nickname for so long, save for when her brother said it, yet it sounded so sweet and lovely and natural on Mr. Harcourt’s lips.

The intensity of the moment suddenly rushed over Winnie. She finally pulled her eyes away, instead focusing on his slightly loosened cravat. She began walking again, now acutely aware of how much further the rest of the group had gone. Mr. Harcourt fell into step beside her.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” she mumbled, trying to sound playful to mask the whirlwind of emotions racing through her.

Mr. Harcourt nodded with an almost shy smile. “Are you sure you truly want to know? This is your last chance to escape.”

“As tempting as that offer is,” Winnie grinned, “I have already said I would hear you out, and I do not go back on my word.”

“Very well then, but do not blame me if I bore you to sleep in the middle of this festival.”

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Harcourt. It would be rather impossible for you to bore me.”

“If you insist,” Mr. Harcourt sighed with a shrug.

As they wandered around the festival, following along behind the rest of the party and gathering everyone else who would return with them to Attwood Manor, Mr. Harcourt briefly explained the conversation he had with the farmer, Mr. Mathis.

According to Mr. Mathis, several of the men who worked the Harcourts’ fields were getting on in years, and struggled to keep up with the work even with the help of a threshing machine. One of those men was Mr. Mathis’s own father, who currently held the lease for their field. He wanted his father to retire, but the old man feared their production would suffer if he did. Worse still, the farmer’s son was too young to take his grandfather’s place in the field.

“Mr. Mathis told me that he had started working in the field by his son's age, but he wants to give the boy a few more years of childhood if he can help it,” Mr. Harcourt finished sadly. His head dropped down between his shoulders, his eyes darting over the dirt path as if searching for a solution there.

Winnie nodded, her heart sinking. Due to her privilege, she had never had to think much about the many complex considerations that men like Mr. Mathis had to make. She glanced up at Warren, happily chatting away with Miss Harriet and occasionally reaching into the blanket to pet the puppy. Mr. Mathis’s son was probably not much older than her brother. It broke her heart to think of Warren trudging out into the fields at his age. She knew, no matter how uncomfortable it made her, that many families faced this reality.

“What will you do?” she asked quietly.

“I am not sure just yet, but I am sure there is something we can do to help,” Mr. Harcourt said, his voice firm as he stared straight ahead.

“It is very kind of you to care so deeply for a tenant farmer,” Winnie mused. “Not many men in your position would have taken the time out of their day to have a private conversation with him about his concerns.”

“I know.” Mr. Harcourt nodded slowly, his eyes growing hard. “I do not wish to be like those men who know nothing of what happens in their homes, on their lands, to their families, and to the people who rely on them for their livelihoods.”

Winnie looked up at him, taking in his stern profile, an expression she had never seen on his face before—bold, genuine determination. Her heart swelled with newfound admiration for this gentleman. She knew with more certainty than she had ever felt about anything that Mr. Harcourt meant every word he said.

She had been so terribly wrong about him. He did care about his responsibilities under his easy-going nature.

She wanted to know why he buried his concerns. She wanted to untangle his complexities, the complexities he had hidden so well that she had assumed these past two years that he was just a simple, superficial man.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Dalton. I have faith that the right solution will come at the right time,” Winnie murmured.

Something had changed inside her today. Or perhaps it had finally come to the surface, revealing itself for Winnie to see, to acknowledge, to slowly begin to understand.

“Thank you for listening, Winnie. I truly do appreciate it, and I feel better for having shared it.” Mr. Harcourt smiled down at her, his expression charming in a soft, subdued way.

Flutters burst through Winnie’s chest as her eyes locked onto his. She found herself longing to provide more comfort to him, to be someone he could lean on, someone he could share his responsibilities with.

How had this happened? It was still a mystery to Winnie. For once, she welcomed it.