A Mistaken Identity, page 8
“You would do well to listen to your father,” the reverend suggested.
“You mean you wish I wouldn’t protest every time he gives you money.”
“It shows how narrow your mind is if you can’t appreciate the higher purpose of my church and its followers.”
“Perhaps you could provide a detailed list of how the funds are used. From what I can see, they appear to only go in your pocket.”
“You overstep yourself, Garland. You don’t know of what you speak.”
“It’s odd how much you protest but still don’t answer my concerns. If you’re not assisting the poor, then who are you aiding?”
Joseph saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see a startled Harriet with wide eyes. Of all the people who might have overheard him, he wished it hadn’t been her.
“Pardon me,” she said then turned to go.
“Don’t bother,” Henderson said and then looked back at Joseph. “We will speak of this again later.”
“No, we won't.” Joseph had no desire to argue with the man. Clearly, doing so solved nothing. He watched as Henderson stalked to the stairs, then hurried toward Harriet who had turned to walk down the corridor.
“I’m sorry you heard that,” he said when he caught up with her.
She looked at him as if to gauge his mood, a hint of worry in the depth of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“You weren’t. The reverend seemed determined to air our differences.” He shook his head and attempted to put aside his frustration.
“May I ask why you have such strong feelings toward him?”
Joseph drew a deep breath, wondering how much, if anything, to tell her. Yet he didn’t want her to think poorly of him. He glanced around, not wanting to share any of what he had to say where it could be overheard.
“Would you join me in the library for a moment?” He’d almost said our library. He needed to take care since he didn’t know if she was the author of the notes.
“Of course.” She followed him into the empty room.
He couldn’t help but note how her gaze lingered on the box as he closed the door behind them. Surely, that suggested she was the one writing the messages.
“My father has always been a strong Christian.” The topic was difficult to share, yet the empathy in Harriet’s expression compelled him to explain. “He was very strict and tended to use Bible verses to justify his actions or as a way to force my siblings and me to behave.”
He glanced again at her, hoping she didn’t think poorly of him. “Our childhood was a challenge as my father found fault with nearly everything we did.”
He shook his head, realizing he hadn’t answered her question. “Suffice it to say that after the way he used love and religion in that manner, when I come upon anyone with strong religious tendencies, I view them with suspicion.”
“That’s understandable,” Harriet said.
“Reverend Henderson has persuaded my father that donations to his church should be numerous and significant. He’s also convinced him that charitable donations to the poor hinder the forces of evolutionary advancement.”
Harriet’s puzzled look had him shrugging.
“He believes that Great Britain’s duty is to civilize other countries, and that meant our country’s population must be strong. Providing aid to the poor weakens all of us.” He shook his head. “It makes no sense to me either. Rather than assist those in need as he used to, Father donates to Henderson and his church.”
“How does Henderson use the donations?”
“That’s the question I keep asking, much to Reverend Henderson’s dismay. Why does a church need money if they don’t help the less fortunate?”
“How odd. I did ask Frances why he was on the guest list, but she isn’t sure. She said she’d ask her mother. I’ll remind her to do so.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Joseph stared out the window. “I’m hoping to speak with Mr. Melbourne about an idea for an investment opportunity. But Henderson’s presence makes that difficult. I feel as if I’m no better than he, asking for money.”
“An investment opportunity is much different than a questionable donation.”
“Only if the investment succeeds,” Joseph said with a smile. “I truly appreciate your help in finding out why the reverend is here. I thought to ask Martin but haven’t seen him today.”
“He had to leave to see to a business matter and isn’t expected back until tomorrow.”
“See, you are a wealth of information.” He smiled again, his troubled thoughts easing as he watched her. “And you are a balm to my frustration. I thank you for both.”
“I wish I could be of more help.” Her lips tightened with displeasure. “If I have the chance to ask the reverend a few questions, I will certainly do so.”
“Take care if you do. Just because he has ‘reverend’ in front of his name doesn’t make him an especially nice or considerate person.”
Harriet stared at him before nodding, her fingers pressing to her chest. He’d obviously shocked her, but he wanted her to take his warning seriously. Henderson was not to be trusted as far as he was concerned.
She gestured toward the door. “I was going to the drawing room to make certain none of the guests who were interested in playing the games this afternoon were there. The activities are being held in the sitting room on the main floor.”
“I’m grateful you did, or I would’ve missed out on the chance to spend more time with you.”
Her mouth opened even as her eyes widened in surprise. Then a delightful blush colored her cheeks. She clearly didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what made him speak so plainly, but the week would be over before he knew it. Time was of the essence, and he wanted her to know that he found her intriguing. His reaction to her was unlike anything he’d experienced before, and he knew beyond a doubt he wanted to explore it.
Unfortunately, based on Harriet’s reaction, he wasn’t sure whether she felt the same way. Perhaps she wasn’t the one leaving him notes.
“I suppose we should join everyone, or they’ll be wondering what’s become of us,” he said.
“Yes, I suppose.” She turned to lead the way out of the room only to turn back, her gaze holding on him even as a deeper color rose to her cheeks. “I welcome the chance to spend time with you as well, Joseph.”
Before he could respond, she opened the door and stepped out. “Are you coming?” she asked with a glance over her shoulder and a smile.
Now he was the one taken by surprise. Lady Harriet Persimmons was a delight, and he was so pleased they had the rest of the week to come to know one another better.
Chapter Eight
The moment Harriet entered the sitting room with Joseph, she caught the puzzled look Frances sent her. Her friend probably wondered why they were walking in late together—and why Harriet’s face was red. An explanation would have to wait, though she didn’t know what she might say.
Her thoughts were still reeling from what Joseph had said. To think he wanted to spend time with her was thrilling yet concerning since she was supposed to be helping Frances.
Then there was his exchange with Reverend Henderson and what Joseph had confided in her about his father. It sounded as if the earl tended to be overly zealous in his faith. How difficult that must’ve been for Joseph and his siblings while growing up. What little he told her reminded her of her stepfather and made her wonder if they’d had a few similar experiences.
“There you are,” Mrs. Melbourne said with a smile. “Now then let us start the game.” She held up a wooden pole, nearly as tall as she was. “How fun will it be to play blind man’s wand.”
Some of the young ladies clapped in delight, but none of the men appeared to be excited from what Harriet could see.
As Mrs. Melbourne explained the rules, Harriet’s thoughts returned to the brief interlude with Joseph. She was being a terrible friend by telling him that she wanted to spend time with him, too. Yet how could she have disagreed when she longed for it with everything she had?
Mrs. Melbourne held up a scarf, catching Harriet’s notice once again. “Who would like to volunteer to go first?”
Joseph glanced at her and if she didn’t know better, she thought he might have winked. That couldn’t be right. Her heart hammered with the thought as he raised his hand.
“I’d be happy to go first.”
The other guests clapped and encouraged him as he moved to where Mrs. Melbourne stood. She handed him the stick and then tied the blindfold over his eyes. “Do your best to guess who holds the other end of the pole.”
Giggles erupted immediately, and even the men laughed.
Harriet couldn’t help but smile at what a good sport Joseph was.
Mrs. Melbourne gestured around the room to silently ask who would like to hold the other end of the pole for him to guess.
Peter Connelly stood and held a finger to his lips. He reached for the end of the pole from the ground and then straightened. He tugged the pole, catching Joseph off guard. Everyone laughed even harder, including Peter.
“Connelly?” Joseph guessed.
“How did you know?” Connelly asked.
“I recognized your laugh.” With the blindfold still on, he told the room, “Let that serve as a warning. No laughing.”
Everyone roared. Harriet’s cheeks already hurt from laughing and the game had only begun.
Peter took the blindfold from Joseph and turned for Mrs. Melbourne to secure it on him. Winifred boldly picked up the pole, but it took a few hints from the crowd for him to be able to guess her identity.
Winifred took his place and immediately guessed her male opponent, Thomas Sinclair, making it his turn.
“Are you certain you can’t see?” accused someone when she guessed so easily.
Once again, everyone laughed.
Winifred smiled. “I refuse to share my secrets.”
Much to Harriet’s surprise, Frances stood, her cheeks bright red as she reached for the stick. She managed to hold her silence, pulling on the pole a few times with a grin.
“Hmm,” Thomas said. “I have to wonder if it’s a lady based on the gentleness of the tug.” He twisted the pole, causing Frances to giggle in surprise.
“Miss Melbourne,” he declared. He removed the blindfold and grinned at Frances.
One look at her friend’s face made Harriet wonder if Thomas had caught her interest. She could imagine how hard Frances’ heart was pounding. Harriet had experienced the same feeling in the library with Joseph. Yet somehow, watching the moment between the two made her feel even guiltier for admitting her interest to Joseph.
Thomas handed the blindfold to Frances, who took it reluctantly. “I do believe you’re next.”
She turned to allow her mother to bind it then Mrs. Melbourne made certain she couldn’t see.
To Harriet’s surprise, Joseph moved to stand at her side. “Are you going to give it a try?” he asked with a smile.
“Not with Frances. She will know that it’s me.” They knew each other too well.
“Excellent point.”
They watched together, calling out encouragement to the other players and sharing looks of amusement. Each time her gaze met Joseph’s, an intense awareness poured through her.
How could she ignore the feeling when it happened so rarely in life? She’d been to numerous events and balls and parties over the past five years. While she’d experienced nerves, embarrassment, and moments of happiness, never had she felt what she did when she looked into Joseph’s eyes.
She jerked her attention away from him yet again, glancing at Frances with the hope her friend hadn’t witnessed the moment.
But based on the coolness in her expression as she looked at Harriet, it seemed she had.
HARRIET PACED HER BEDROOM soon after the game had finished. She’d wanted to speak with Frances right away, but Mrs. Melbourne had requested Frances’ help, delaying her in the sitting room.
If only she knew what to say. Would Frances ever forgive her for coming to care for Joseph, too?
She turned to walk to the window again only to hear a knock at the door. Her stomach twisted alarmingly, and she pressed a hand to it, hoping to settle her nerves. She hurried to the door and opened it to find Frances there, just as she’d expected.
“Frances,” she greeted her as she opened the door wider. “Come in.”
One look at her face confirmed her friend was upset. That only made Harriet feel worse.
“I simply cannot believe it.” Frances strode past her then placed a hand on her hip as she turned to face Harriet.
The air left Harriet’s lungs at her obvious distress. “I’m sorry. I can explain.”
Before she could finish the thought Frances waved a hand in the air. “I don’t think you can.”
A terrible ache filled Harriet at her words.
“Lady Caroline was flirting outrageously with Viscount Garland,” Frances continued.
Harriet stared at Frances in disbelief as she tried to understand what she had just said. “Lady Caroline?”
“She was acting far too forward. Did you see the way she placed her hand on his arm?”
Harriet had noticed but hadn’t been concerned by it. They’d been in the middle of the game with everyone enjoying themselves. A certain friendliness at a house party was to be expected, wasn’t it?
Never mind that she was certain what she felt was more than friendliness.
She couldn’t deny her relief that Frances wasn’t upset with her. This was the perfect opportunity to tell her how she felt about Joseph. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had done anything untoward.
The excuse sounded weak even to herself.
“It’s clear that I need to take a bolder step to attract his attention,” Frances continued. “I have been far too reserved up to this point.”
“What do you intend to do?” She couldn’t imagine her shy friend doing anything drastic to gain his notice.
Frances marched to the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I will be more direct in this message.”
“Or you could speak with him this evening and make it clear how you feel.” How terrible that Harriet almost hoped she would refuse.
“No.” Frances shook her head. “I can’t do it. I thought to try this afternoon. But the moment he looked at me, my throat closed, and I couldn’t say a word.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I have no idea what is wrong with me, but I just can’t. That is why I appreciate your help so much.”
Harriet sighed. While relieved Frances wasn’t upset with her, she wished Frances would simply speak with him. A smile and a few words would make it clear how she felt and allow Joseph the chance to return her regard if he were so inclined.
“I will tell him how handsome I find him.” Frances stared at the blank paper, her hand holding the pen. Yet she didn’t write anything.
“You could say exactly that,” Harriet said softly.
“That’s not good enough.”
“What if you were more specific? Maybe mention the color of his eyes.”
“Yes,” Frances agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “Something about the blue of his eyes matching the sky.”
Harriet frowned. “His eyes are hazel. But I believe Mr. Sinclair’s eyes are blue.” Did Frances admire him as well? For a moment during the game, Harriet thought she might.
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She tapped the pen with a finger. “To what can I compare hazel?”
His eyes weren’t exactly hazel. They were a mix of green and brown with gold flecks. They reminded Harriet of moss in the forest. Then there were his long lashes. Who knew that a man’s lashes would be something to admire?
“Tea, perhaps?” Frances asked as she turned to look at Harriet.
“I’d love some,” Harriet agreed, realizing she’d lost track of the conversation.
Frances frowned. “I meant the color of Viscount Garland’s eyes.”
“Oh. Of course.” She felt the heat in her cheeks and hoped Frances didn’t notice. “That might be too brown, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. Do you have a suggestion?”
It was selfish of her not to offer the moss idea, but she couldn’t. That was hers. “What about an autumn leaf just changing its color?”
“Brilliant.” Frances wrote that down. “What else?”
“Perhaps something about his personality as well? You mentioned his kindness.”
“And his humor,” Frances added as if determined to prove she truly did know him.
“Good idea.” Harriet waited, wanting her friend to think of at least a few of her own words.
Frances jotted more down then once again looked at Harriet. “I would like to mention his shoulders.”
“What about them?” How broad they were? How she longed to run her hands over them and touch them rather than only admire them from a distance?
“They’re very admirable.”
“Can you be more specific?” Frustration welled inside her once again, and it was all she could do to not march over to the desk and take the pen and paper to write a message herself.
Yet several minutes passed with Frances saying nothing. “Broad, perhaps?” Harriet suggested at last, wanting the task to be done.
“Yes. That’s it.”
Frances finished the message and handed it to Harriet to read. The words didn’t flow well together. Her hesitation must’ve shown on her face for Frances asked, “What is it?”
“Well, it’s fine, really. It just doesn’t read smoothly.”
Frances jerked to her feet to read over Harriet’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re right. It sounds terrible.”
“Not at all.” One look at Frances’ hopeful expression had Harriet reading it again. “Perhaps if we just changed a few words...”
“Any suggestions you have would be welcome.” Frances sat at the desk again and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. “How shall I say it?”
It took more time than Harriet would’ve liked, but at last, Frances had written a message that would hopefully touch Joseph’s emotions. How terrible that the idea put a lump in Harriet’s throat.
