grunted in assent. “What does she see in ye, then?”
He turned the question over in his mind before his defenses shot up around him. “Whatever it was, she’ll see it no longer. I’m through trying to win her over.”
She cast him an amused look. “Is that what ye’ve been doing?” Gabby shook her head, the ginger curls bouncing against her cheek. “Ye’ve a strange idea of courtship, Mr. Slayter.”
Malcolm waved his arms, punctuating his words. “And what am I supposed to do? Quote yards and yards of romantic poetry? Sing her songs? Bring her flowers and sweets like a lovesick schoolboy?”
“Hardly that. A town lady like Miss Marsh has probably had her fill of flowers and sweets. If ye want to get on the right side of Miss Marsh, ye’ve got to show her how ye feel. Not in a way that any man can do, and certainly not in words.” Gabby picked a pear up off the ground.
“How do I do that?”
She cleaned the pear off with her apron before starting back for the house. “That’s for ye to figure oot. Try asking the horse.”
It was a royal mess.
After listening to Archer rant about being searched and interrogated upon arrival like a common criminal, Serena had to endure stories of how her audience had grown annoyed over her absence from the column these many weeks. Some ladies had even started writing letters about parties they’d been to in an attempt to replace Serena as the writer of her own column. Archer admitted he had seriously considered opening up the “Rage Page” for submissions, making Serena feel even more dejected. And when Archer tried to kiss her, it failed to give her the spark she had always felt with him, even when he announced his intention to speak to her father about pursuing a courtship. Instead, her mind wandered to a certain irate Scot, whom she thought was just outside the door but instead had disappeared altogether.
She finally left Archer in the hands of the housekeeper, who had preceded him up the stairs to show him his room. Her fight with Malcolm and her disenchantment with Archer made Serena feel stuck like an insect in amber, and she decided to go see the only man who ever gave her wise advice.
“Come in,” said Earlington from inside his bedroom.
Serena opened the door and witnessed her father swallowing the tonic meant to steady the beating of his heart. She bit her lip in consternation as he made a pinched face. “How you are feeling, Father?”
“Well, Serena, well. I can feel my heart grow stronger with each passing day. As long as I take my infusion of digitalis, I shall be fine. It’s only when I don’t take it that I’m in trouble.” An aftertaste made him grimace once more. “Ugh. The cinnamon water adds a taste, but it’s still as bitter as venom.”
“Will there come a day when you don’t have to take it anymore?”
He shrugged. “That’s for the doctor to say.” He patted a place on the bed beside him. “How are you, poppet? I haven’t seen you all day.”
She flounced on the bed beside him. “Father, I’d like to press a question to you, and I’d like your honest counsel. What would you say if I told you that I was beginning to feel a certain … tenderness … toward a gentleman?”
Earlington smiled widely. “This wouldn’t by any chance have to do with a certain visitor who’s just arrived ?”
Serena smiled sheepishly. “In part.”
He put a hand on her own. “I’ve always thought well of Archer Weston. He’s a decent chap, good mind … he’s not titled, but you know that I’ve never been an adherent to those sorts of outdated modalities. The Americans are forward-thinking in that respect. Not a lord or lady among them, and their matches are just fine.” He lowered his head to look up into her face. “That is who you meant, isn’t it?”
Serena shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. That is … no. Well, what do you think of Mr. Slayter?”
Earlington retracted his hand, the significance of which was not lost on Serena. “I like Mr. Slayter just fine. But isn’t he a bit too … rough around the edges for someone like you?”
She had opened the door to those doubts, and now they assaulted her on every side. “I suppose so. As far as appearances are concerned. But I do feel something for him.”
Earlington cocked his head. “I expect it’s gratitude—he did rescue you from a