The Last Eligible Bachelor - Ashtyn Newbold Page 0,17

cramped parlor and enjoy conversation with the mother of the home while I played with the children. The memory filled me with warmth and longing at once, and I tightened my hands at my sides to combat it. After having been on the receiving side of such generosity from the Sedgwicks after my father was sent to prison, our rent unable to be paid, I had wished and wished for another opportunity to serve and give something again.

“Well, then, who should like to come with me?” Mrs. Ollerton asked, raising her thin eyebrows expectantly.

The insects had never buzzed so loudly. Miss Downsfield feigned a yawn, and Miss Taplow and Miss Benham both seemed to have become extremely interested in the wicker handles on their baskets.

“I will.” I approached Mrs. Ollerton, who welcomed me with a warm smile.

“And I will receive you even more gladly knowing you have sacrificed time with Mr. Hill to join me.” Mrs. Ollerton cast me a knowing glance.

“It is no great sacrifice,” I said in a quiet voice. “I enjoy your company just as much.”

Mrs. Ollerton let out a loud laugh. “I could never claim to be half as charming as Mr. Hill, and you know it. There is no need to attempt to win my favor by lies, Miss Sedgwick.” Her voice took on a scolding tone.

I refrained from protesting again. My gaze accidentally jumped to Mr. Hill, who watched me with his half-smile. I lowered my brows into a scowl before returning my attention to the ground.

“Who else would like to join us?” Mrs. Ollerton said. “Miss Sedgwick, it seems, did not have the patience to assemble a basket, so I will need one of you ladies to join us, so we have something to give besides our company.”

Several seconds passed in silence before Mrs. Ollerton let out a quiet grumble. “If no one will volunteer, then I choose…Miss Taplow. Join us, if you will.”

Her lips pursed and she trudged forward, away from Mr. Hill’s free arm, which she had seemed quite poised to snatch. She put on a smile, but it was obviously all for display, like a perfectly trimmed bonnet resting in a shop window.

Miss Downsfield didn’t hide her victorious smirk as she watched Miss Taplow walk away from her prize. How did Mr. Hill feel to have so many ladies vying for him? Surely his pride did not need the bolstering it was receiving. He must have known how attractive he was and reveled in the attention. Perhaps he never intended to marry at all, and he was a rake, simply feeding his own pride and toying with as many hearts as possible to entertain himself.

Compiling as long a list as possible of Mr. Hill’s potential pitfalls would make my task of avoiding him even easier.

“Let us be on our way, then.” Mrs. Ollerton started down the path toward the cottages, a bright smile on her face. Mr. Hill began walking in the same direction before following the opposite curve in the path toward a different area of the village. Miss Taplow watched him go, a gleam of longing in her eyes.

The farther down the path we walked, the busier the town seemed to become. There were many people on the streets who seemed like they could benefit from our basket, but Mrs. Ollerton appeared to have a specific family in mind. The path curved around the last of the stone cottages, leading to a row of narrow houses that were much smaller and less sturdy. If the wind were strong enough, it might have knocked them down. Perhaps that was why they were built in such proximity, as if to huddle together and rely on the strength of the others.

Mrs. Ollerton knocked thrice on the door of the first one, waiting for a long moment before a woman answered. Her dark hair hung loose around her face, and she held a baby on one hip. Her thin face broke into a smile when she saw Mrs. Ollerton, and she welcomed us inside. Miss Taplow walked carefully, a slight grimace on her face as she slid through the narrow doorway.

“Mrs. Ollerton,” the woman said, “am I glad to see you.” She hoisted the child up higher on her hip, taking the hand of another young child inside. “My husband’s been workin’ hard, but we love the bread from Winslow House the most.” Her son beamed up at the basket in Miss Taplow’s hand, a glint of excitement in his eyes. The