Romancing the Heiress(9)
Author: Darcy Burke

 

“My options are dwindling. I need to go inside for tea with Gran.”

 

“Give her my best. And go easy on yourself. Patience and hard work—which you’ve proven you are capable of—will right this course.”

 

Nodding, Phin turned and walked to the house, entering through the door to the breakfast room and making his way to his grandmother’s favorite sitting room. Snug between the music room and much-larger drawing room, the small chamber boasted the best view of the reflecting pool. Decorated in warm reds and golds with rich, dark wood furnishings, the space radiated cheer and comfort. A fire blazed in the hearth, and Gran sat at the round table near the window where a tea tray sat.

 

“My apologies for being late.” Phin rushed to her side and bussed her cheek.

 

Gran smiled and waved him to sit down opposite her. “You’re right on time, dear. I was just preparing your cup.” She finished pouring the milk and gave the tea a good stir.

 

“Thank you.” He accepted the cup and took a fortifying drink. He needed to put the conversation with Thomas out of his mind.

 

Cocking her head, Gran pressed her lips together. “You look worried. Is something amiss?”

 

Damn, he hadn’t been fast enough. Smiling broadly, he reached for a walnut cake. “Not at all.”

 

“Silly boy. You act as if I haven’t known you since you were in swaddling clothes. Or that I can’t see when you’re concerned about something. Perhaps I could help.”

 

She would want to, but as soon as he told her what his father had done, she would become upset. Gran was his mother’s mother, and she’d long commented on his father’s recklessness. If she only knew how tight a rein Phin’s grandfather had kept on it while he’d been alive…

 

“There’s nothing to help me with,” he said brightly. “Except for eating these delicious cakes.”

 

She gave him a dubious look before moving one of the cakes to her plate.

 

Despite his efforts to set aside the conversation with Tom, Phin kept thinking about it. More accurately, he was focused on what was apparently the only option left to him—marriage.

 

“Gran, did I tell you that I met a pleasing young lady the other day?”

 

Gran’s head lifted, and her brown eyes gleamed with interest. “You did not. I presume you will now, however.”

 

“I do wonder if this might be the year for me to wed.”

 

Eyes widening in surprise, she smiled brightly. “Marriage! How wonderful!”

 

A small sound, not quite a throat clearing, came from the doorway. Phin turned his head and heard Gran say, “Is this her?”

 

It was Leah.

 

“Er, no,” Phin said quickly. “Gran, I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, but this is Miss Webster.”

 

Gran stood—Phin also got to his feet—and started toward Leah. “Of course I remember Leah Webster! Goodness, it has been a long time. I didn’t recognize you at first. That, or I was too focused on what I just heard.” She chuckled as she cast a look back at Phin, who stood near the table. “Marriage!”

 

“Good afternoon, Lady Gran,” Leah said, using the nickname she’d adopted for Phin’s grandmother many years ago. A six-year-old Leah had assumed that such a beautiful, sophisticated woman had to be a lady. This had delighted Gran, who’d joked that Leah could call her Lady Gran, and that had been that.

 

Leah stepped forward and embraced his grandmother. “It’s so lovely to see you.” When they stepped apart, Leah looked toward Phin. “I hope it’s all right that I called. And that I told Chap he didn’t need to announce me.”

 

Chapman, or “Chap,” as everyone called him, was Phin’s ancient butler. The man was nearing eighty and not as spry as he used to be. But he didn’t want to retire to a cottage on the estate, despite Phin asking him almost fortnightly.

 

“On the contrary, I appreciate you saving Chap the extra exertion.”

 

“Bah, he can probably keep up with you on your morning constitutionals,” Gran said. “Come and sit with us, Leah. We were just having tea.”

 

They all settled around the table, and Phin wondered what Leah had heard regarding Phin’s potential marriage. For some reason, he felt a little awkward.

 

He didn’t have to keep wondering, for Gran asked, “I apologize for thinking you were the woman Phin was telling me about. I don’t know if you heard what he was saying when you came in, but he met a young lady the other day and is now—finally—considering marriage.”

 

Leah’s gaze met his. “I thought that might be what you were discussing. I presume you mean Miss Selkirk?”

 

“Yes.” Definitely not Leah. That would be…wrong. She was like his sister. No, not a sister exactly. Someone…close. But not a wife. Granted, he hadn’t thought of anyone in that role. Now that he was, he didn’t think Leah was a poor example. In fact, she’d make an excellent wife. She was capable and smart and possessed a quiet strength. She was also surprisingly sophisticated. The surprise was that he hadn’t thought of her that way before she’d left Marrywell. Then again, seven years was a long time, and people changed a great deal. She didn’t even look quite the same. Her carriage was different—more confident. Most of all, he thought, it was her eyes. They held an air of mystery. Probably because there were seven years of things that he didn’t know about her.

 

He suddenly felt bad about that. He really ought to have been a better correspondent. Thankfully, their mutual friend Sadie had kept him somewhat informed about Leah.

 

“Tell me about Miss Selkirk,” Gran insisted, looking at Phin.

 

“Perhaps Leah should do that, as she is companion to the young lady.”

 

Gran swiveled her head toward Leah. “Are you? I thought you were companion to Lady Norcott.”

 

“I was, but she died almost a year ago. Miss Genevieve Selkirk is her great-niece. Before she died, Lady Norcott made sure I was situated with the position.”

 

A maid hurried in with a third teacup. Leah thanked her and prepared her tea.

 

Fixing a calculating stare on Leah, Gran said, “Then you’ll know whether Phin has a chance with this young lady.”

 

There was a beat before Leah answered, likely because she was stirring her tea. “I could find out.”

 

Phin noted that Leah was far more reserved than she’d been in their youth, no longer the exuberant girl who’d followed him up trees or convinced him they should learn to swim. But no, she hadn’t always been that girl. She would grow shy and even afraid in the presence of her family—her mother in particular. It was as if she’d been two different people. Was she still like that? He recalled how she’d changed her demeanor when her employer had arrived in the gardens the other day, so perhaps she was.