Page 92 of The Scandalous Saga of the White Lady

“He is very attentive to me, but he seems to lack a—as you put it earlier—asympatheticnature. I have been jarred by some of the things he has said. He seems to have a crude sensibility at times that disturbs me.”

“Can you give me an example?” Harry asked.

“The other day on our walk he came right out and asked me what sort of dowry I had if I were to marry.”

“He does have a straightforward quality that is true,” Harry said. “But he is a farmer and a cattleman, just like me. I would call him direct and plain speaking. Many might find that to be an admirable quality in a man.”

“And then there was the way he treated Percy at tea. He showed no sympathy for his suffering.”

“But Maria, I expect he sees Percy as his rival for you. You must give him some slack.”

Maria stopped rolling the ball and looked at her brother. “Do you think that is all it is? Am I misjudging him?”

“I think you might be a little harsh and judgmental.”

Maria started working on the ball again. “I shall consider your advice, Harry. I will give him slack, but I have to say, I cannot help but compare him to Percy, who is so very gentlemanly to me.”

“You mean by wooing Anna for her money?”

Maria shot him a warning glance. “That is because he must. It is his father’s choosing not his. Now who is not giving slack?”

Harry laughed. “Touché. But all I suggest is that you give Roger a little more time. He will only be here a few days longer.”

“Very well. But let me ask, has he spoken to you about my dowry? When he asked me, I referred him to you to answer his question. I did not think it appropriate for me to answer.”

Harry nodded. “I believe you were correct. However, he has not asked me about that. He has, however, said several times how much he admires you. He, therefore, appears to have an interest in you.”

Maria suddenly became shy. “Oh, Harry, we should not be discussing these things. It embarrasses me.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, Sister, you are far too tough and sensible to be truly embarrassed by such discussions.”

She sighed. “Yes, Harry, I expect you are right.”

* * *

He really missed her. Harry’s valet was giving Harry his morning shave, when he suddenly realized his heart was aching for Anna. Not that he expected anything from her romantically, but he just missed seeing her. He missed being with her. He missed catching her sly smile when they appreciated a moment of levity together. What was he to do? Then he realized.

“Stop.” He commanded, and the valet took a step back still holding the razor poised for another stroke.

“Your Lordship, did I nick you?” the valet asked.

“No, Littleton. But I just had a thought…”

“Shall I continue?”

Harry grabbed the towel that was around his neck and wiped the lather off his face.

“But you are only half shaven, My Lord,” Littleton complained.

“It will do for now. You can do the other half tomorrow.” And he laughed as he bounded out of the chair.

Harry needed to connect with Anna. Of course, she was absent. Off with her sister in Dorset, but he needed to feel near to her.

Even though he had not had breakfast, he raced to the stable, saddled his horse, raced over to Repington and roused poor Warrick who had been sleeping in since there was no one in the house to serve.

It took several minutes of intense knocking for the door to be opened.

“Oh, Your Lordship… what can I do for you. Neither of the young ladies is at home.” Warrick looked disheveled in his dressing gown and flyaway hair.