to join me at the inn for a cup of tea?”
Her expression grew crafty, and her lips turned up. “If it’s tea you are wanting while you await your horse, come with me to Mrs. Lewis’s. You’ll be more comfortable there than at the public inn.”
Something was afoot, but he couldn’t determine if it was in his favor or not. It might lead to the answers he sought, and that swayed his decision. “How very kind of you.” He offered her his arm and they strolled off to the other widow’s cottage.
Mrs. Lewis opened her door and welcomed them in. “Mr. Harrow, how good of you to call.”
He handed her his hat and gloves. “Mrs. Benjamin extended the generous invitation.”
She showed him to a delicate chair covered in a faded floral print in a small room filled with serviceable furnishings. A moment after he sat, a servant brought in a tray with a teapot and three cups with saucers. Mrs. Lewis poured, handed out the filled cups, then lifted her own and studied Neil. “It’s a lovely day for your journey.”
“It is. I look forward to being on my way when the blacksmith has shod my horse.”
Mrs. Benjamin set down her drink. “I told Mr. Harrow how disappointed I was to see him go.”
“Mmmm,” agreed Mrs. Lewis. “How wonderful you were able to spend a few weeks with us. Wasn’t Mr. Lumley’s wedding a blessed event?”
“I hoped we would see another wedding soon.” Mrs. Benjamin looked to Neil as if it was his turn to speak.
Small talk over tea wasn’t his forte. He went straight to the matter at hand. “It might be impolite for me to have noticed, but the local young men appeared to refrain from standing up with Miss Cookson at the dance. I should think they’d all fight for the honor of having such a beautiful partner.”
The widows exchanged a glance he couldn’t read. Mrs. Benjamin sipped her tea. Mrs. Lewis offered a plate of biscuits to him. “Would you care for a nibble?”
He reached for one, offering his thanks before taking a bite. It was sweet but dry. He wasn’t put off by their delaying tactics and pressed on. “Lord Knightwick wouldn’t discuss it with me, either.”
“You asked his lordship about Miss Cookson?” Mrs. Lewis queried.
“It was more a question about the young men of the village and their avoidance of the lady.” When neither woman spoke, he added, “I received a setting-down for asking.”
“Yes, Lord Knightwick is very good that way. He will make a fine earl, don’t you agree, Milly?”
“Yes, I do think so. He has a good heart and strong morals, like his father.”
Neil set down his cup. The widows weren’t going to tell him, either. He was wasting his time. He let go of the subject, asking instead about the families of each woman, giving them time to preen about the successes of their children. When he felt they might be more receptive, he commented, “It strikes me as rather odd that the two of you and Mrs. Carlyle would be so eager to accuse me of improper behavior with Miss Cookson, yet you aren’t willing to tell me anything about her. About her standing in the village. About why you seemed so eager that I speak to her before leaving town.”
“Yes, well, let us see,” said Mrs. Benjamin. “Miss Cookson is a generous girl, so very dutiful, always putting the needs of others in front of her own.”
“She had been keeping house for her father since her mother died. And she has the most delightful voice when singing hymns. She plays the pianoforte rather well, also, when she has the opportunity.”
They continued to sing her praises and avoid what he wanted to know. He tried to direct the conversation. “Her father didn’t seem eager to have a stranger speaking with his daughter at the assembly, even one with good family. I understood that was the purpose of such gatherings, to give the young people a chance to visit in a chaperoned setting.” His connections to the Lumleys should speak well enough for him in any situation. There was
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley