assist.
Between them, the man and Harry got the chair unstuck and rolled it onto the lawn.
Harry smiled at the gentleman and offered his hand, which the gentleman shook.
Mr. Hinckley added his thanks, and the trio paused to chat.
Godfrey returned his gaze to Ellie and, at her questioning look, murmured, “All’s well.”
Ellie met his eyes and let her smile speak for her. She’d realized there’d been a problem because the muscles in his arm, beneath her hand, had tensed; he’d been about to go to her father’s aid when the stranger had stepped in.
If the stranger hadn’t assisted, Godfrey would have. Without anyone requesting it or prompting his attention, he would have gone to help, simply because her father and brother had needed assistance.
She’d had other suitors, and in her experience, in such a situation, not even Masterton, had he been beside her, would have felt moved to assist without her suggesting it.
Godfrey, on the other hand, often spontaneously stepped in to help—not only with her but also with her family—and he did so without considering whether the action would gain points with her or anyone else.
Godfrey Cavanaugh was, quite simply, a nice man—the epitome of a true gentleman. That he was a lord born and bred only made that more remarkable and made the constant battle not to fall under his spell all the more fraught. Indeed, she doubted he even knew he was casting a spell, which only made the attraction drawing her to him even more potent.
She knew she should resist. Her problem was that, for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her father in his chair, with Harry pushing and the unknown gentleman pacing alongside, nearing. She excused herself from the ongoing conversation and turned with a smile.
Maggie and Godfrey followed her lead; they flanked her as her father introduced them to the newcomer.
“My elder daughter, Eleanor—Ellie to everyone hereabouts—my younger daughter, Maggie, and Mr. Cavanaugh, a visitor from London.” Her father gestured to the gentleman. “This is Mr. Jeffers, based in York and currently visiting the area.”
They all shook hands. Ellie judged Jeffers to be in his mid-thirties. He was well-dressed with dark hair, neatly styled, although not as fashionably so as Godfrey’s. The quality of his clothes was good, neither notably expensive nor cheap, and their cut suggested Jeffers favored a decent provincial tailor.
Jeffers readily responded to a comment on the weather from Godfrey, engaging them all with a self-deprecating tale of some of the more amusing effects of the recent storm in York.
From there, the conversation rolled on surprisingly easily. Jeffers was unstintingly polite, much in the same way Godfrey was; he made personable, easygoing, and entertaining company.
Ellie finally asked him, “Is there any particular local spot you’ve come to visit, sir?”
Jeffers’s easy smile lightened his blue eyes. “Not specifically. You could say that this excursion has been more about sating my curiosity and getting an idea of the lay of the land. My partner and I recently took over an enterprise in York, and as winter is generally slow business-wise, the weather aside, this was an opportune time to take a look around the district.”
She smiled. “I see.” Him being part owner of a business fitted the image he presented.
“If I might ask, Jeffers,” her father said, “where are you staying?”
“I’m at the Queen’s Head.” Jeffers nodded down the street. “Only a short stroll away.”
Her father squinted up at him. “Bill Wood taking good care of you?”
Jeffers smiled. “He is, thank you.”
“Nevertheless, it’s Sunday,” her father persisted, “and the roast Bill serves is always overdone. More like old boots. Instead of wrestling with it, why don’t you join us? Nothing extravagant, but our Cook is generally regarded as a local wonder.”
“I can attest to that,” Godfrey put in. “I’ve yet to meet a dish she’s prepared that is less than mouthwatering, and thanks to the snow, I’ve been at Hinckley Hall for the past ten days.”
Jeffers arched his brows at Godfrey. “That’s a recommendation difficult to pass up.” He smiled at Ellie, then at Harry and Maggie, before looking at their father. “I have to admit to growing bored with my own company.” Jeffers gracefully inclined his head. “I would be honored to accept your kind invitation.”
“Right, then, that’s settled.” Mr. Hinckley clapped his gloved hands and looked around, noting the dispersing crowd. “Everyone’s leaving, so we may as well, too.”
Harry explained, “Our carriage is in the forecourt with the others, and