introductions but managed to forestall Beryl's attempts to invite them in.
Then Aunt Lizzie appeared to support Beryl, but Amy grimly prevailed and soon the men were mounted again.
But then Chart Ashby said, "Hume House is only a couple of miles cross-country from here, Miss de Lacy. Can I hope we'll be welcome if we call to see how you are?"
What could she possibly say but yes?
* * *
"Three handsome heroes!" declared Beryl ecstatically as soon as the door was closed. "Amy, dearest, you've outdone yourself. One for each of us!"
"But why you didn't want to invite them in, Amethyst," said Aunt Lizzie, "I cannot imagine. Very rag-mannered."
"What on earth could we have offered them?" Amy demanded. "I doubt they have a taste for chamomile tea."
"I doubt I have either," sniffed Lizzie. "I don't know why you won't let us buy just a little bohea to add to it. Anyway, I do believe there is a quarter bottle of brandy left. That would be more to their taste."
"After our grand lottery party," said Amy, "that is all we have. We had better preserve it carefully, not waste it."
"It wouldn't be wasted," Lizzie pointed out. "It would be more in the way of an investment. You have to make men comfortable if you wish to attract their interest, Amethyst."
"I have no desire to attract their interest," said Amy firmly.
Beryl laughed her disbelief. "But they are handsome and charming and all you could desire!"
Amy said, "Except rich."
This was drowned by Aunt Lizzie's, "Shame about London, though. They say Tsar Alexander's going to be visiting in June."
Amy could feel a familiar exasperation creeping up her neck to form a headache.
Pretty, who was hovering - in case there was something to be learned rather than making himself useful - muttered, "I thought you was off after that Staverley gent, Miss Amy."
"So I was, Pretty," said Amy crisply. "For heaven's sake, Beryl, those poor young men just assisted me. Are you going to shackle them for it?" When she saw the hurt disappointment on her sister's face she was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, love. Indeed, Mr. Ashby did say he might ride over to call. Perhaps you can engage his interest."
Beryl brightened a little. "Is he the dark one? Oh no. I'm sure he's too much of a high-flier for me. What about the portly one with the friendly smile?"
Amy was going to protest her sister's self-denigration, but had to acknowledge that it was true. It was impossible to imagine the arrogant, though charming, Chart Ashby and her plain, sweet-natured sister having anything in common. "Mr. Cornwallis," she supplied. "He's very shy, so I haven't shared more than a couple of words with him, but he does seem very pleasant." There was no harm in encouraging Beryl's dreams a little, and heaven knows, if she could find herself a husband, that would be one less person depending on Amy for survival.
Beryl linked her arm happily with Amy's and led her toward the kitchen. "So that leaves the two dashing ones for you and Jassy."
"Jassy's far too young!" Amy protested. "Where is she anyway?"
"She's walked over to the Burford's to visit Amabelle. Tell me all your adventures."
Amy wasn't up to objecting to Jassy's outing, though she would return discontented and with a charity package from Amabelle Burford's mama. She decided to give Beryl and Aunt Lizzie the official version of her adventure and mention nothing of the hours spent in a blanket in Harry Crisp's kitchen.
Aunt Lizzie frowned as she made the herb tea, both at the concoction and the story. "Why did you linger in the barn in your wet clothes, you silly girl? You could have caught your death!"
"But I would have had to cross the yard to get to the house, and it was raining so hard," Amy pointed out. "And it was a good thing I stayed where I was, for Mr. Crisp was all alone in the house. That would never have done."
Aunt Lizzie got a calculating look in her eyes. "Seems to me it would have done very well indeed, dear. He'd have been smitten... likely have become a bit carried away... honorable thing and all that."
Amy felt sick at the thought and took a deep breath to stop herself saying something unforgivable. "That would have been disastrous, Aunt," she pointed out. "He's not rich enough."
Lizzie splashed boiling water on the leaves. "Ugh. I don't care what you say, this might be good medicine but it isn't tea. You can