all.” She shoved her anxiety aside and pushed open the door.
Behind her, she heard Corey cry softly, “Oh, Lord, I’d forgotten how short he was!”
Alexandra ignored that. She was exceptionally tall for a woman, and most men were shorter than she was. Her father and Denney were standing before the window, as if admiring their muddy and overgrown gardens. It had stopped raining that morning, but outside, the lawn had become a small lake. The squire was probably two inches shorter than she was—making his height quite average.
Both men turned.
Her heart suddenly lurched—as if with dismay. Denney was just as she recalled, a big, husky fellow with side whiskers and kind eyes. He wore a frock coat for this occasion, one she instantly saw was very well made—and very costly. Now she noticed a signet ring on his hand. It was gold and boasted a gemstone. And carefully inspecting him as she was doing made her feel like a fortune hunter.
But wasn’t that exactly what she was?
You can’t sell Alexandra off to that farmer!
But he could—it was done all of the time, Alexandra thought grimly. Very few in society married for love. Women in her position never did.
The parlor was small, the walls mustard-yellow, with fading green drapes and shabby furniture. Edgemont came forward, smiling, and looped his arm in hers. “Alexandra, there you are.” He turned so that they faced the squire. And Alexandra was surprised—his eyes were shining.
“I am sorry if I have kept you waiting,” she managed, her pulse pounding. Why did she suddenly feel saddened? Was it because if all went according to plan, she would be leaving Edgemont Way and her beloved family? Suddenly she thought of Owen and the deep bond—the passion—they’d shared. And she was resolute. Ever since her father had declared that she must marry, Owen had been on her mind. But that kind of love had passed her by, and she must forget about the past.
“This is my beautiful daughter, Alexandra,” Edgemont said proudly, beaming.
“You could keep me waiting for days on end, Miss Bolton, and I would still be pleased to see you,” Denney said, smiling at her.
Alexandra somehow smiled again. And she thought of how kind the squire had always been to his wife, before she’d passed away. He was a good man. Maybe, in time, she might come to love him a little. “That is far too kind of you,” she replied, shaken.
“We had a chance to discuss the summer forecast, as predicted by the Almanac. Denney thinks it will be a good summer, not too hot, with plenty of rain,” her father told her.
“That is wonderful,” Alexandra said. She meant it, because every farmer in the shire depended on good weather for their crops and livelihood.
“I have had three good years in a row, enough to make a handsome profit, and then some other investments have paid off, as well,” Denney said eagerly. His brown gaze had become searching. “I have invested in the railroads, mostly. I am now adding a fine wing to the house, for a grand parlor, if you will. There will be a small ballroom, too. I have decided that I will entertain in the future. I should love to show you my plans,” he added.
“I am sure your plans are very pleasing.”
Edgemont said eagerly, “His manor has fifteen rooms, Alexandra—fifteen rooms!”
She somehow smiled again. But her dismay had increased, against her will and intentions. The squire kept staring, his cheeks flushed, his dark eyes shining. Surely he wasn’t in love with her? She did not want to hurt him by being incapable of returning such passion.
“You may come and visit Fox Hill anytime,” Denney said. “In fact, it would be my pleasure to give you a tour of the house and gardens.”
“Then I must call as soon as possible,” she said lightly. She glanced at Edgemont. She needed to be alone with Denney so she could find out how he might be inclined toward helping her sisters.
Edgemont smiled at them. “The squire has been invited to the de Warenne fete tomorrow night. It is such an honor, as it is Lady Harrington’s daughter’s birthday celebration.”
“I am impressed,” Alexandra said. She hadn’t heard about the party, but she knew both girls, even if she hadn’t seen Sara or Marion in several years. They were close to Olivia and Corey in age.
“I am on very good terms with Lady Harrington and Sir Rex,” Denney told her eagerly. “The party is for their youngest, Sara. I should love it if you joined me, Miss Bolton—with your sisters, of course.”
Alexandra’s first reaction was sheer surprise; then, instantly, she thought of her sisters, who had never been to a high-society fete. Her mind raced. Of course she must accept. This would be a wonderful opportunity for her sisters—and the kind of evening they deserved, and should have had and become accustomed to. But neither Alexandra nor her sisters had had a new gown since before their mother died. While the sad truth was that no one invited them out, due to their circumstances, even if someone had, they did not have the proper attire to attend most social functions.
Corey could fit into one of her old ball gowns, with some slight alterations. And surely they could find something for Olivia to wear from among their mother’s clothes. They would be sadly out of fashion, but they would be able to attend.
“We would love to attend,” she said quickly.
Edgemont looked carefully at her. Alexandra knew he was wondering how they would find the proper clothing. “Father, I was hoping to walk with the squire outside, as the sun has come out and all chance of further rain is gone.”
His eyes widened, and he beamed. Then, “I’ll be in the study. Enjoy your walk.” He walked out, leaving the door wide-open.
Alexandra stared at the threshold until he was gone. Then she faced her suitor. “Squire Denney, I am very flattered that you have called.”
“A rainstorm could not have kept me away.”
“Is it possible to have a very frank discussion?”
His eyes widened. “I so prefer candor. It is one of the things I like best about you, Miss Bolton, after your excessively kind nature. You are always direct.”
She turned. “I fear you have put me high upon a pedestal, a stature I do not deserve.”
His brows lifted. “If any woman deserves to be placed upon a pedestal, Miss Bolton, it is you.” When she began to speak, he interrupted. “I have admired you for years. You have taken wonderful care of your sisters and father, and such selflessness and compassion is to be commended. And then, of course, there is your beauty. I am practically speechless, in fact, to be standing here with you now.”
Alexandra almost blushed. She was hardly a raving beauty, but she would not dispute him. “I am glad you find my nature pleasing. And you are right about one thing—I try very hard to take good care of my younger sisters as well as my father. Olivia is only eighteen, Corey just sixteen.”
A slight bewilderment crossed his bluff face. “They are lovely young ladies.”
She gestured at a chair, deciding to forgo their walk. He sat, and she took the adjacent seat, then clasped her hands in her lap. “I was
