Across the Spectrum (57 page)

“I wanted to be big!” she wailed. “Davy said he stretched
his arms big by swinging on ropes, so I wanted to swing!”

∞

“Oh, dear.” Miss Briggs snickered and turned away, as if
to depart.

Holding Verity in one arm, Lucas caught his savior’s elbow
with his free hand. His heart still hadn’t stopped attempting to escape his
chest at sight of his daughter hanging upside down in danger of breaking her
neck.

If Miss Briggs had not come along, he would have had to
learn to fly. He’d never seen a more level-headed, courageous lady, and even if
she was a tart-tongued hoyden, he
needed
her.
Verity needed her.

“Don’t go.” He tried not to plead, but he could see disaster
written on his future unless he kept this woman with him. “We haven’t thanked
you. I don’t suppose it’s proper to invite you in for tea.” He hated being
uncertain but he was too overwrought at the moment to care. He just didn’t want
her to go until his heart stopped pounding in his ears.

“I think it might be a good idea for Verity to go inside and
wash her hands and lie down for a little while. Keeping up with her cousins is
very tiring.”

Davy was one of Verity’s older cousins. Lucas caught the
lady’s implication. He’d left his baby girl to compete with three older male
cousins. His fault. Everything was his fault. It was up to him to undo what he
had wrought.

“We will be just a minute,” he told her, looking for some
way to persuade her to stay. “There is some pie left. We can eat it under the
tree, where everyone can see we are very respectable.” He started for the
house, trying not to notice as Miss Briggs brushed her skirt and petticoat back
where they belonged.

She had long, lovely legs.

And shapely arms that cuddled a child the way he wouldn’t
mind being held.

He wondered if Miss Briggs might ever rest her head against
his shoulder as Verity did. That wasn’t a proper or respectable thought.

“I don’ wanna take a nap.” Verity hiccupped on her protest.

“Just lie down and rest your eyes a little,” Miss Briggs
said soothingly, matching Lucas’s stride with ease. “And if you’re good and
rest long enough, I’ll have a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“A surprise?” Verity lifted her damp cheeks. “For me?”

“Yes, just for you. Are you big enough to run upstairs and
wash and take off your dress or do you need help?”

“I’m big enough!” Verity pushed off Lucas’s shoulders and
wriggled to get down. When he let her go, she raced ahead of them.

“I’ve never seen her hurry so to take a nap,” he said wryly.
“I hope you really do have a surprise for her.”

“You’ll hate it, but I do. She needs to feel she’s
important, so I brought her a kitten. Learning to take care of a pet will teach
her that others rely on her, and that she’s very important, indeed. But you’ll
have to put up with the mess.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said accusingly, steering her
toward the tea table his mother had set up beneath the beech tree.

“Perhaps, only a little, because I’m still quaking in my
shoes. She could have been killed!” Miss Briggs wailed, almost collapsing into
the chair he held for her.

“Exactly my thought twenty times a day. Wait here, and I’ll
bring out the cups and things, after I see Verity into bed. Did you leave the
kitten in front?” At her nod, he made a mental note to fetch it. He doubted
Verity’s ability to take care of a kitten, but his heart warmed that Miss
Briggs had thought of her.

He could foresee cat hairs in his future, but Verity was
more important than tidiness. Somehow, he must learn to rearrange his
priorities.

His daughter had already stripped off her grubby and ruined
Sunday dress and was splashing cold water as if she were a duck at play. Lucas
scrubbed off some of the grime on her face and hands and watched her climb
between the covers, before returning downstairs to the kitchen and setting on a
kettle for tea. He supposed he should have done that first. He needed to hire a
maid to think of these things, but it seemed awkward unless he had a wife
first. He missed his batman.

He had imagined a sweet little woman ordering his household
about, one who smiled cheerfully and arranged for delightful meals to appear on
the table and puttered about keeping order, until it was time for her to come
up to his bed. He could see now that his imagination was considerably rosier
than actuality, rather like his youthful idea of war.

Life had a habit of not living up to his expectations. He
could not even live up to his own. In the military, it had been relatively
simple to follow orders, understand his men, and take action. Women, on the
other hand, were a mysterious universe he might never comprehend. How did he
persuade one he needed her without sounding desperate?

Remembering the kitten, he stopped at the front to pick up
the basket. It smelled of lavender and sported pink ribbons and a little black
nose pushing aside a gingham cloth. He hoped it was a male cat or he’d be
outnumbered.

Carrying basket and tea tray, Lucas geared up his
considerable courage to approach the intrepid Miss Harriet Briggs. He needed a
wife who could rescue children from barns more than he needed a lady to look
pretty and make tea. He simply had to find some way of asking her.

∞

Harriet thought about running and hiding before Lucas
returned. Just the fact that she was thinking of him as
Lucas
instead of Major Sumner spoke much of the familiarity of her
thoughts.

She had no mirror and couldn’t straighten out the frizzy
mess her hair had become when the pins loosened in her climb. She shoved as
much as she could inside her bonnet, then discovered she’d left her gloves in
the barn. Her hands were bare, revealing her broken nails and dirt from the
leather. She was an unmitigated hoyden, just as her father claimed.

Fine, then, she had nothing about which to worry. Major
Sumner would not be interested in anyone as indecorous as she, so she could
simply sip tea and discuss Verity’s welfare.

She hurried to rescue him from tea tray and kitten as soon
as he appeared. She couldn’t help her heart from making an odd leap at the
sight of the big strong man biting his lip while attempting to balance tray and
swinging kitten basket at the same time. Even though he’d properly donned his
Sunday cutaway coat and looked beyond dashing, the self-confident major wasn’t
quite as intimidating or perfect in domesticity.

She had already dusted off the old table and now used the
gingham from the kitten basket to cover it before she set the tray down. “Is
Verity all settled in?” she asked nervously when he hovered too close, forcing
awareness of how large he was. He’d
lifted
her from the ladder, while holding Verity! Her heart did another little
jig.

“I think she was frightened enough to be glad of a moment
alone.”

“She’s a bright child, with a strong imagination. Once you
learn of what she’s capable, you’ll enjoy her company, Major Sumner,” Harriet
said stiltedly. She’d been to London and had learned to make polite small talk
with gentleman about the weather and the music and the company. She’d never had
to pretend restraint in the village. Until now.

“Please, call me Lucas. I am no longer in the army, and
after this episode, I would like to call you friend, if I might.”

She nodded and poured the tea, aware of how ugly her hands
looked. “I am Harriet, although everyone calls me Harry. I fear my name is as
unladylike as I am.”

“Ladylike is not a quality useful in dealing with Verity, I
fear.” He sat uncomfortably in the small wrought iron chair. Even the teacup looked
frail and useless in his hand.

Harriet winced at his unintended insult and sipped her tea.
She was good at caring for animals but not so quick at witticism. Still, she
tried. “Real ladies would not be so inclined to ruck up their dresses and climb
ladders,” she agreed with innocence.

He nodded. “That is precisely what I mean. Action and quick
thinking are what is required around Verity. Polite manners and pretty dresses
are irrelevant.”

Thinking polite manners might prevent her from dumping the
tea over his head for implying she wasn’t a lady because she could
think
, Harriet bit back an impolite
retort. “I daresay ladies are irrelevant on all counts,” she agreed
maliciously. “They are merely decorative, are they not? Rather like stained
glass windows. Perhaps they should be left in church.”

He looked startled. Instead of replying, he apparently made
a hasty reassessment of their exchange. “I did not mean to imply—”

“Oh, no need to apologize.” She waved away whatever he meant
to say. “I’m aware of my shortcomings. Instead of sitting prettily in my
parlor, I climb in haylofts and trees. I shout at dogs. I crawl about in
henhouses. I will never be considered decorative, by any means!”

“As you say, decorative is for churches. I’d much rather see
a woman who isn’t afraid to help a child or an animal.” He said it uneasily, as
if afraid he was walking into a trap.

“One who argues,” she suggested, listing her many flaws.
“And speaks up for herself. You do not prefer polite, pretty ladies who
demurely nod their heads and make men swoon with a smile.”

“Exactly,” he said, apparently pleased that she understood
his requirements. “I hope I am not being too forward. When I went to your
father, it was because I remembered you with fondness and hoped to press my
suit. But Verity . . . Verity does not make it easy for me to
court in a traditional manner. You are a woman of exceptional understanding. I
would like to call on you, if I might be so bold.”

“You wish to call on a woman who is not a lady, one who
argues and rudely rucks up her skirts and isn’t remotely attractive enough to
be decorative?” she asked in feigned astonishment, raising her eyebrows. “I
think not, sir. You may call on me when Verity needs rescuing again, perhaps.
Until then, I give you good day.”

Ribbons bedraggled from being crushed by an unthinking
military man, Harriet rose from her chair, and head held high, sailed from the
yard with bits of straw stuck to her crumpled muslin.

∞

Dropping his best visiting coat over a chair, Lucas rubbed
his aching head. After an hour of listening to Miss Elizabeth Baker and a few
of her dearest friends prattle in high-pitched voices about London fashion and
the best teacakes, he was ready to stick his head in a bucket to clean out his
ears. He was evidently not meant for feminine company.

He stared morosely out the kitchen door at the fields
separating his cottage from the Briggs estate. He wished he understood the
feminine mind. He’d thought he and Miss Briggs had reached a level where they
could talk honestly. He’d hoped . . .

But she’d thought he was insulting her, when he thought he’d
been showering her with fevered compliments and his genuine delight at finding
a sympathetic ear. He had porridge for brains.

He’d sent round a note of apology. He’d asked the vicar to
put in a word for him. He’d spoken to the squire himself. But nothing had
worked. They muttered platitudes about Miss Harriet coming around in her own
time. But she was never at home when he called.

He sighed as he watched his daughter climb the back fence to
gather wildflowers from the field. Verity apparently had a passion for flowers.
He didn’t know one from another. A woman could help Verity grow a garden. He
didn’t even know where to acquire seeds.

Perhaps he could ask Miss Briggs where one went about
finding flower seeds. He could help Verity collect a bouquet, tie a ribbon
about it, and deliver it as a peace offering. Or gratitude for the kitten
wrecking the furniture. Verity adored the creature.

He could practice a few compliments, although he felt a fool
telling her she had eyes the color of the sky and skin soft as silk. She did,
but he didn’t know how to say that.

After spending an hour in the company of the village ladies,
Lucas knew of a certainty that Miss Briggs was the only local woman who met his
needs,
all
his needs. He could hire a
maid to clean cat hair. He could not hire an intelligent, desirable wife, one
who could keep up with Verity and not drive him mad with inanities.

He saw no reason to give up on the woman he wanted, if all
that parted them was his thickheaded pride and her damnably sensitive feelings.
He would not have made major had he given up and simply obeyed orders instead
of thinking for himself. Which was what Miss Briggs had been telling
him—although he had difficulty applying such leadership to women. He’d learn.

The day was warm and there was no sense in making his
laundry more difficult by dirtying a coat while hunting flowers. With no one
about to see him, he abandoned his coat and followed Verity into the field.

Verity looked up in surprise when Lucas leaned over to pick
a daffodil. She laughed in delight when he handed it to her. Together, they
wandered deep into the field and a wooded area, collecting a ragged assortment
of blooms that might make a lady smile. Maybe.

“Do you think we should put a ribbon around these and take
them to Miss Harriet?” he asked when Verity seemed to be tiring of the game.

She nodded eagerly. Lucas was about to lift her on his
shoulders and carry her back to the house, when he heard an impatient shout. He
might be a thickheaded oaf, but he recognized Miss Harriet’s voice.

It was coming from the pasture where the Briggs’ tenant
farmer had just loosed his bull.

He shoved the bouquet into Verity’s hands. “Take these back
to the house and put them in water. I’ll bring Miss Briggs to visit shortly.”

He didn’t have time to wait and see that she obeyed. He took
off at a lope around the fence, racing in the direction of the Briggs’ estate.
He had a feeling Miss Harriet was much like Verity, often climbing into
situations from which she could not easily be extracted.