than function, and said, “You’re welcome to come in for tea, if you’d like.”
Charles gazed at the welcoming entrance: a variety of flowers was in full bloom: marigolds fought with hyacinths in a variety of boxes, and a variety of perennials whose names he would have been hard pressed to remember decorated the short path up to the front door. Trees that sorely needed tending had low-hanging branches, making it seem almost as though they were framing the walk to the house. It looked quaint and inviting: nothing like the well-groomed lawns and expansive grounds he employed an army of gardeners to tend to, but still, it was quite obvious that the cook’s vegetable garden hadn’t been the sole beneficiary of Julia’s aphid spray.
“I think I’ve rarely heard a less welcoming invitation,” he drawled finally, wondering why she seemed to have withdrawn a bit from him.
“Nonsense. I’m the vicar’s daughter. I invite people in all the time, and I always mean it.”
She pursed her lips. Charles’s gaze was drawn immediately toward them, and he noticed again how full and almost lush they appeared. Though she was not out of breath from their walk, the mixture of sun, conversation, and mild exertion had added a delightful blush to her cheeks, and now that he had the opportunity to examine her more closely, and in finer detail, he realized that although she was not classically beautiful, there was an allure to her fresh-faced appearance.
He looked down at his own attire, thinking that he was too wrinkled to be presentable, and then realizing that he didn’t exactly have anything more suitable at his disposal.
“Perhaps another day,” he said. This, at least, was a response he was practiced at giving. He’d murmured these exact words countless times in response of a variety of invitations, of which being invited to the vicarage for tea ranked as the most innocent. Never before, though, had his rejection been met with such . . . relief. There was no other way to describe Julia’s breezy smile and almost careless wave.
“Another time, then,” she said, smiling widely and almost skipping to the front door of her home, never bothering to look back.
Charles stared at the sway of her hips until they’d disappeared behind the front door, which had been rapidly opened and shut. He shook his head to clear the fog that had temporarily enveloped him and realized that he’d just been summarily dismissed!
It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and whether it was just the bet or something else, he felt a pang of something close to regret as he turned and remounted. The mare hadn’t lived up to expectations, but Julia’s company had made the morning quite invigorating.
Aphids and all.
*
Julia had barely closed the door before Claire approached her. “Was that your somewhat attractive Mr. Alver? The one you conveniently forgot to mention until Mama asked?”
Julia jumped and colored a little. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I didn’t sneak. If you hadn’t been busy trying not to look back, you would have seen me standing here, clear as day.”
“I wasn’t trying not to look back.”
Claire wrinkled her nose and chose not to reply. “You didn’t invite him to tea?”
Julia shook her head. “Wrong. I did, in fact, invite him in. He declined.”
“You sound breathless,” Claire said. Her eyebrow arched, completing Julia’s sense that this was more accusation than observation.
“You scared me.”
Claire narrowed her eyes as if trying to assess the truth of Julia’s statement and then looked pointedly at the clock on the far wall. “And what would you have done if he’d said yes?”
Julia smiled and batted her eyelashes playfully. “If he’d agreed to come in, I would have gone to my appointment and fobbed him off on my somewhat attractive stepsister!” She peered out the window and pretended not to hear Claire’s huff of protest, trying to ignore the faint prick of her
Charles gazed at the welcoming entrance: a variety of flowers was in full bloom: marigolds fought with hyacinths in a variety of boxes, and a variety of perennials whose names he would have been hard pressed to remember decorated the short path up to the front door. Trees that sorely needed tending had low-hanging branches, making it seem almost as though they were framing the walk to the house. It looked quaint and inviting: nothing like the well-groomed lawns and expansive grounds he employed an army of gardeners to tend to, but still, it was quite obvious that the cook’s vegetable garden hadn’t been the sole beneficiary of Julia’s aphid spray.
“I think I’ve rarely heard a less welcoming invitation,” he drawled finally, wondering why she seemed to have withdrawn a bit from him.
“Nonsense. I’m the vicar’s daughter. I invite people in all the time, and I always mean it.”
She pursed her lips. Charles’s gaze was drawn immediately toward them, and he noticed again how full and almost lush they appeared. Though she was not out of breath from their walk, the mixture of sun, conversation, and mild exertion had added a delightful blush to her cheeks, and now that he had the opportunity to examine her more closely, and in finer detail, he realized that although she was not classically beautiful, there was an allure to her fresh-faced appearance.
He looked down at his own attire, thinking that he was too wrinkled to be presentable, and then realizing that he didn’t exactly have anything more suitable at his disposal.
“Perhaps another day,” he said. This, at least, was a response he was practiced at giving. He’d murmured these exact words countless times in response of a variety of invitations, of which being invited to the vicarage for tea ranked as the most innocent. Never before, though, had his rejection been met with such . . . relief. There was no other way to describe Julia’s breezy smile and almost careless wave.
“Another time, then,” she said, smiling widely and almost skipping to the front door of her home, never bothering to look back.
Charles stared at the sway of her hips until they’d disappeared behind the front door, which had been rapidly opened and shut. He shook his head to clear the fog that had temporarily enveloped him and realized that he’d just been summarily dismissed!
It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and whether it was just the bet or something else, he felt a pang of something close to regret as he turned and remounted. The mare hadn’t lived up to expectations, but Julia’s company had made the morning quite invigorating.
Aphids and all.
*
Julia had barely closed the door before Claire approached her. “Was that your somewhat attractive Mr. Alver? The one you conveniently forgot to mention until Mama asked?”
Julia jumped and colored a little. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I didn’t sneak. If you hadn’t been busy trying not to look back, you would have seen me standing here, clear as day.”
“I wasn’t trying not to look back.”
Claire wrinkled her nose and chose not to reply. “You didn’t invite him to tea?”
Julia shook her head. “Wrong. I did, in fact, invite him in. He declined.”
“You sound breathless,” Claire said. Her eyebrow arched, completing Julia’s sense that this was more accusation than observation.
“You scared me.”
Claire narrowed her eyes as if trying to assess the truth of Julia’s statement and then looked pointedly at the clock on the far wall. “And what would you have done if he’d said yes?”
Julia smiled and batted her eyelashes playfully. “If he’d agreed to come in, I would have gone to my appointment and fobbed him off on my somewhat attractive stepsister!” She peered out the window and pretended not to hear Claire’s huff of protest, trying to ignore the faint prick of her
Similar Books
