Page 9 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

Leading his feral pack to the phaeton, they climbed aboard with the two younger boys choosing the groom’s seat behind whilst Rolland settled in beside his tutor. With a flick, Walter set the horses toward Danthorpe, and his hands moved of their own accord, guiding the carriage along with little thought whilst his mind wandered.

His school. His future. His livelihood. Thoughts of Mr. Dix and the laborers followed him along as the four of them made their way to Montmore Hall. Why did so many people find it easy to open their mouths? To express their opinions and dissatisfaction without hesitation? Though he believed his definition of a “gentleman”

to his core, Walter knew that if Orson were to ask others, they would consider a victorious round of fisticuffs more befitting a gentleman than patience and understanding.

Such a one didn’t defer to others. He didn’t consider his words. A gentleman simply spoke without trepidation, certain in his standing and opinion, yet Walter struggled to express himself as much as Orson did, and he didn’t have the excuse of a lisp.

“I apologize, Mr. Reed,”

whispered Rolland, jerking him from his thoughts. When Walter glanced at the lad, he found a furrowed brow and a determined set to the boy’s jaw. “I will be better. I promise.”

“I know you will. You have a good heart,”

said Walter with a nod, freeing one of his hands to place that arm around the lad’s shoulders. “I am certain you are going to do a great many things in this world if you set your mind to it.”

Rolland’s gaze brightened, a faint smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“I—”

But before Walter could say anything more, a figure appeared at the crossroad ahead, erasing all other thoughts from his mind. With her head lowered and her attention fixed on her path ahead, Miss Vaughn passed before them and took the other fork, her footsteps coming quick as she moved determinedly down the road.

Blast! Why couldn’t she be pointed in their direction? Their paths would cross, and they could share a quick word. Offer her a ride. Though from the direction she was headed, it was likely she was returning home, and the journey to and from Thornsby would take far too long.

But did that matter if he was granted uninterrupted time with her? The answer was a resounding “No!”

However, their paths weren’t crossing, and chasing her down would make him look like a madman. It was too bold, and Walter’s palms moistened at the thought of making his feelings so obvious. Like a specter rising from the grave, Miss Weathersby’s laughter rang from his memory, and his jaw locked tight.

Arriving at the crossroads, Walter paused and cast his eyes down that lane. Even from this distance and with her back to him, he recognized the tension vibrating within her—the stiffness of her posture, punctuated by the sharpness of her steps. Miss Vaughn was distressed, and (heaven help him) Walter Reed couldn’t bear to see it and do nothing.

*

“Miss Vaughn,”

called a voice from the distance, and Sadie moved quicker. Her heart poured out in prayer, hoping beyond hope that Mrs. Gibson hadn’t forced Howard to chase after her. Just the thought of seeing his wretched face right now was enough to make her footsteps quicken until she was fairly jogging down the road.

But when a phaeton pulled up beside her, the figure that leapt down from the seat wasn’t Howard Gibson but Mr. Walter Reed.

“Good heavens,”

she said, jerking to a stop.

The gentleman shifted in place, his brow lowering. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you on the road, and I thought you might require assistance.”

Rubbing at her forehead, Sadie held back a groan and mumbled, “Why must you always find me at my worst?”

“Pardon?”

asked Mr. Reed, and she straightened.

“Forgive me, sir. I am out of sorts. Again. You have impeccable timing of late,”

she said with a strained huff of laughter. “But at least this interlude didn’t involve me nearly running you over.”

“What has happened?”

he asked, his eyes as hard as ever as they studied her. The sharpness of his expression had Sadie gathering her strength around her, ready to fend off more barbs, but as she considered the gentleman standing before her, her hold relaxed.

A few days ago, she would’ve assumed the coldness in his tone was boredom or frustration, but Sadie couldn’t reconcile that outward appearance with the gentleman who had spoken so warmly about his favorite books and listened attentively to her opinions. And a realization that had been forming in the back of her mind coalesced as she watched his eyes fill with genuine concern.

Mr. Reed was like her brother. Though outwardly gruff and stoic, Gregory had as warm a heart as any. Even if most never realized it. And the more she examined Mr. Reed’s behavior, the clearer that truth became, and the stiffness in her posture eased.

“I fear you have caught me at another unfortunate time, Mr. Reed,”

she said, turning a derisive smile inward. “Which is all too common of late.”

The gentleman didn’t speak, and though the hard lines of his lips and brow sharpened, Sadie forced herself to look at his dark eyes, which watched her with far more scrutiny than one would ever grant an annoyance. That was where she needed to look for the truth.

“Are you walking home?”

he asked, the warm tones of his voice adding to the concern in his gaze. “Please allow me to escort you—”

Sadie held up her hands. “You are too kind, Mr. Reed. I appreciate the consideration, I do, but I am returning to Thornsby, and I couldn’t possibly ask you to go so far out of your way.”

Something in his expression tightened. His gaze darted away from her, and a thrumming tension gathered within him that had her responding in kind, and the pair stood there for a long moment with her unable to look away as his eyes avoided her, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

It was nerves, wasn’t it? The thought seemed odd, yet Sadie couldn’t deny the evidence of her eyes as she studied him. And thankfully, Mr. Reed avoided looking at her directly, leaving her free to do so.

Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice and added, “Might I entreat you to do me the honor? It would do my pupils good to be allowed the opportunity to escort a lady.”

Which was the moment Sadie realized they weren’t alone. Glancing at the phaeton, she spied a pair of eyes staring at her (though there were two additional sets in the groom’s seat that were far too occupied with annoying one another to notice anything else).

“Miss Vaughn, may I please introduce Master Rolland Semper, Master Humphrey Semper, and Master Orson Semper,”

said Mr. Reed, motioning to the three lads.

The eldest rose to his feet, which set the phaeton shaking, but the others gave no more than a quick bob of the head before returning to their game of “pester my brother.”

And Mr. Reed’s gaze turned to Sadie, his eyes pleading with her to accept as he offered up his hand.

“I suppose I cannot refuse—if it is for your pupils’ benefit,”

she said with a faint smile as she placed her hand in his.

Mr. Reed’s gaze brightened as though she was doing him a grand favor, and he led her to the carriage as he called to his pupils, “Please assist the lady.”

The gentleman had hardly placed the period on his statement before Master Rolland was moving, leaping from his seat to come around to Sadie’s side of the carriage. Orson followed suit, but Humphrey remained where he was, his brows twisting together as he glanced between Sadie and Mr. Reed.

“But she can do it herself,”

said the boy. “I’ve seen her manage before. She even drives her own gig.”

Brows raised, Mr. Reed held Sadie’s gaze for a long moment, and she swore she spied a chuckle bubbling in those depths. Between that sight and Master Humphrey’s declaration, it took all her self-control not to laugh.

Raising a hand to forestall the other boys, Mr. Reed drew close to his stubborn pupil. “You are correct, Master Humphrey. Miss Vaughn is very capable and does not require assistance.”

A little compliment, yet it simmered in Sadie’s heart, for she swore she heard appreciation in his tone.

“However,”

he continued, “we do not assist ladies because we are strong and they are weak or we think them incapable of managing without us. It is about mutual respect and kindness. We demonstrate it by offering, and they do so by accepting.”

Sadie straightened, considering that wisdom. She had never heard it described in such a manner before, yet she couldn’t deny Mr. Reed’s words were true; good manners weren’t a performance, manipulation, or condescension, but an outward demonstration of the care one ought to grant to everyone.

Though Humphrey still appeared displeased about being foisted from his seat, the lad complied, and the three stood at the ready beside Sadie. Mr. Reed gave instructions, but the trio were a force unto themselves, with each listening to varying degrees of success. Little hands tugged and pushed Sadie upward, cramming her into the seat like an unruly piece of baggage whilst their tutor scolded and apologized in turn. The boys were unruly (as all were at that age), but they were good-hearted and doing their best to perform the task, and Sadie couldn’t help finding it amusing.

When she was situated, the trio scrambled aboard once more, and she was surprised to find that Rolland chose to sit in the back with his brothers, though the three were squeezed together on the smaller seat. And soon, Sadie found herself cuddled up beside Mr. Reed, and the gentleman had them on their way.

She kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye, but every thought fled as she tried to grasp onto something to say, and he offered nothing, leaving her to bumble about. Orson leaned over the back of the seat, his head forcing the pair apart, and he gave Sadie a long look.

“Mama says Mr. Gibson was a fool to choose Miss Murray over you.”

Mr. Reed sputtered, his brows shooting upward as he stared at the child, though Orson was studying Sadie’s face with all the seriousness of an art collector.

“I think Miss Murray is prettier, but Mama says that doesn’t matter as much as strength of character,”

added the lad with more than a dash of skepticism in his tone.

Sadie stifled a laugh, for amusement was the only emotion she would allow herself at that moment. The honesty of a child was never meant to offend, nor did such utterances contain a kernel of condemnation. Fat, thin, tall, short, pretty, ugly, and all the like were merely descriptors; it took time and the influence of the world to shape those words into compliments and criticisms. Thus, it was foolish to take offense.

Besides, when presented with the evidence of yet another mother who believed Sadie Vaughn to be a catch whilst her son vehemently disagreed, she couldn’t help but find the situation painfully comical. Doubly so when one considered that the son in question likely still thought all girls were a plague upon humanity, yet even he preferred Miss Murray.

Offering up a distraction, Sadie asked, “Where were you coming from?”

“Thornsby,”

replied Orson with a huff as his brothers pulled him back into his seat.

Straightening, she turned her gaze to Mr. Reed, who met that with a smile so faint that she almost missed it.

“You just arrived from Thornsby and are returning there once more? This is too much,”

she said in a low voice—though not low enough, as Rolland answered for his tutor.

“Being of assistance is the hallmark of a gentleman, and we are gentlemen. Aren’t we, Mr. Reed?”

The gentleman in question turned a questioning gaze to Sadie. “What do you think, Miss Vaughn? Are we gentlemen, or should we deposit you on the side of the road like a bit of misplaced baggage and deprive these lads of the opportunity to assist a damsel in distress?”

He was teasing her? Though there was little indication from his expression, Sadie recognized that dry delivery, for it was the Vaughns’ favored style of humor, and there was the slightest hint of amusement tickling the corners of his eyes and lips.

“Coercion, Mr. Reed? Is that what you are teaching your lads?”

she asked in kind.

“I prefer to think of it as appealing to your better nature, but call it what you will.”

Sadie laughed. It was sharper and louder than intended, but it erupted at that teasing remark, pulling free of its constraints. Mr. Reed was jesting? That made it all the more amusing.

“You are not what I thought you were, Mr. Reed,”

she said, slanting him a smile.