A Perfect Gentleman(5)

Since he would be unable to concentrate on the sermon, Matthew put the notes away and picked up the list of families in the parish. He needed to visit each of them this week. It was important that he get to know each and every one of them. And though he loathed gossip, he knew he would hear about other families during his visit. He hoped this parish was different from his encounters in London, but did not hold out any hope.

What was the best way to schedule his visits so nobody felt slighted? Perhaps alphabetically. Nobody could argue with that. He read through the list and dismissed the idea. Such a plan would put him at Miss Cooper’s house on the second day. The last person he needed to encounter so soon was Miss Cooper with her deep green eyes.

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. He must stop thinking about those big, expressive eyes with the thick, dark lashes. He stared across the room and attempted to erase her face from his mind and then turned back to the list. A smile pulled at his lips. He knew exactly how to plan his visits so she would be one of the last and would put him at the Cooper household on Friday, at the earliest. That was plenty of time to forget the young woman.



Grace placed the plate holding a piece of apple tart before her father, then took a seat beside him. “Here you go, Papa. It’s still warm.”

He did not say thank you, but he looked up and offered a half smile. She missed hearing his voice. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. She sighed and poured tea into her cup. A breeze blew a loose curl across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear before she sipped her tea and looked out at the land. She loved this time of day. The terrace was shaded, and she and her father could enjoy the outdoors in the afternoon.

If only he could speak. She had been waiting for two years

“Miss Cooper?”

She turned the find Mrs. Thomas, the maid, cook and caregiver for her father, standing at the door. “Mr. Richards has come to call.”

She should have expected Mr. Richards. He always called on Friday. She placed her cup into the saucer and stood. “I’ll be right in.”

“Mr. Draker and Mr. Thorn are here as well.”

Grace stopped short. All three of them? This was unusual indeed. Mr. Draker came by on Saturday and Mr. Thorn, Monday. Why were they all here at once?

“Mrs. Thomas, could you please sit in the chair by the window?” It was the same seat she always took. From that place Mrs. Thomas could keep an eye on her father and also act as chaperone by being in the same room with Grace when a gentleman came to call.

“Of course.” The woman smiled. “As soon as I prepare another pot of tea and plate of biscuits.

This gave Grace a few moments to gather her thoughts. She would not go in until Mrs. Thomas returned with the tea. She sipped from her cup again and studied her father. He placed his spoon on the now empty plate and settled back in his chair and looked at her, eyebrows raised in speculation.

“I don’t know why they are all here at once. I wish they would leave me be.”

He frowned.

She fell back in her chair and heaved a heavy sigh. “Oh, I wish I knew what you were really thinking instead of having to guess.”

One eyebrow rose and with his left hand, grabbed the ring finger on his limp right hand.

“I know, I know. You think I should marry.”

He offered a quick nod.

“But I don’t want to marry any of them,” she whispered so not to be overheard.

He tilted his head. After two years, she knew he asked why.

“I don’t love them, and they don’t love me, and I don’t see there ever being love.”

He shook his head in a slow manner. Disappointment showed in his faded green eyes, taking the sparkle out.

Grace reached over and grabbed his hand. “Besides, I want to stay here, with you.”

He pulled his hand away and grabbed his right ring finger again. They had similar discussions in the past and she knew, or at least thought she knew, he wanted her married and not stuck here for years taking care of him.

“Papa, how can I leave home? Who would take care of you?”

He raised his left arm and with his thumb pointed to the door. Was he telling her to get out? He had never before suggested so strongly she leave and her heart constricted.

Mrs. Thomas walked back through the door and Grace relaxed a bit. Her father wasn’t kicking her out, but telling her Mrs. Thomas would see to him. It was a relief, but surely he understood that Mrs. Thomas could not be here all of the time. She only came in the morning and left before dinner because she had her own family. Though her children were now married and moved away, she did have a husband of her own to take care of.

“The tea and biscuits have been delivered, Miss Cooper.”

“Very well, I suppose I should see to my guests.” She rose and kissed her father on the cheek before she made her way to the parlor.

The three gentlemen stood at various places in the room. Mr. Richards, with his blond hair and brown eyes leaned negligently against the fireplace mantle. There was a feminine quality about Mr. Richards that always seemed odd to her, not that she would ever mention to anyone. Mr. Draker stood by the bookshelf. His black hair was askew and she suspected he brought his curricle on this call. He drummed his fingers with impatience upon the shelf. Mr. Thorn, with his red hair and hazel eyes, stood at the window. She wondered if he had eavesdropped on her conversation with her father then doubted he could hear much as they had sat further away and on the other side of the door.

Mrs. Thomas followed her in, picked up her embroidery and settled into the seat she often occupied while Grace met with guests.

“Good afternoon, Gentlemen. It is a surprise to see all three of you here.”

She sat in the chair at the end of the center table. There were two settees she bypassed, because then one of her suitors would have to sit next to her. Mr. Draker settled on the settee to her left and Mr. Thorn sat in the opposite seat. Apparently, they didn’t want to sit next to each other either.

She reached forward and grasped the teapot handle to pour the tea. “Mr. Richards, two sugars, correct?”

He nodded his head and she handed him the cup.

“Mr. Draker, I believe you only like milk?”

“Yes, thank you.” He took the saucer from her hand, his fingers brushed hers. Grace tried not to yank her hand back.

“I believe you don’t take anything, Mr. Thorn?”

He smiled at her. “It is kind of you to remember.”

She held the plate up. “Biscuits anyone?” Only Mr. Draker took one, but he had no chance to touch her again.

Grace poured her own cup of tea, sipped and waited for one of them to speak. They looked at each other, as if waiting for someone to begin the conversation.

Mrs. Thomas stood and walked out of the room. Grace would have asked why she was leaving her father untended but she did not want to run after the woman and leave these gentlemen sitting again. Besides, if Mrs. Thomas left, she had good reason and since she didn’t appear to be hurried, Grace decided not to be concerned.

“It is lovely weather we are having, isn’t it.” Grace offered so at least someone was speaking at this uncomfortable gathering.

“Yes, yes it is,” Mr. Thorn was quick to agree.

Mr. Richards placed his cup and saucer on the table. “Miss Cooper, we did not come here to discuss the weather.”

She smiled at him. “It would be a very short conversation if you had.”

Mrs. Thomas walked back through the room. This time she carried a tray with a cup and saucer, and a plate of biscuits. Grace wondered who had called. Lord Crew was away visiting his daughter and new grandchild and he was the only gentlemen she knew of who cut through the woods and hills separating the two estates to visit her father. She would always be grateful to her father’s old friend because he still called, after all this time and would sit with her father for hours. Too bad Lord Crew didn’t have any eligible sons, not that they would consider a poor and destitute gentleman’s daughter, but it would have been easier to marry into a family who would not consider her father less worthy because of his injuries.

“We, the three of us, think it is time you made a decision,” Mr. Draker announced.

Grace placed her tea on the table and sat back. “Decision?”

“Yes, which one of us are you going to marry?” Mr. Richards clarified.

Goodness, she was thankful to have set her drink down or she may have spilled it on her gown. “Marriage?”

“Clearly it has not escaped your notice that each of us has been courting you,” Mr. Draker talked down to her. Of the three, he was the one she liked the least. Though he was solicitous, there were times he spoke to her as if she were a child and Grace knew she could never marry a man who thought so little of her intellect.

“I have suspected.”

“Though I don’t wish to be indelicate, Miss Grace, you are getting on in years and it is time you marry before it is too late,” Mr. Thorn offered.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at Mr. Thorn. Of the three, he was the kindest in his wording. He often started his sentences, when something was uncomfortable, “I don’t wish to be indelicate”, or “I don’t wish to insult”, or something similar. However, at the age of twenty she did not think she was even close to spinsterhood.

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Thorn.”