The Major Meets His Match

‘No more dresses that belong on a frippery little schoolgirl, I hope. No more of those silly frills and flounces.’

‘For two pins,’ she said, her eyes flashing fire, ‘I would deck myself from head to toe in frills, just to annoy you.’

‘If only you didn’t have too much sense,’ he reminded her.

‘Well, yes, there is that. No sense in cutting off my nose to spite my face, is there?’

‘None whatever. It is far too charming a nose. And anyway, I’m really not worth it.’

A frown flitted across her face.

‘Oh, come now. Surely your aunt has already warned you not to set your sights on me.’

A rather mulish look came to her mouth.

‘Actually, she thinks you might do very well for me. Seeing as how I’m not likely to attract a man with higher standards.’

‘I thought you said she cared for you.’

‘Oh, she does. But then...’ She shrugged, as though the action was self-explanatory.

‘And you said your own father never once told you that you are pretty,’ he growled. ‘What is wrong with them all?’

Lady Harriet shrugged again. ‘My parents were content with the three sons they already had, I suppose. They didn’t really know what to do with a daughter.’

‘That’s family for you,’ he said with feeling. ‘My own father never had a good word to say about me, either.’

A stricken look came across her face. She reached out and touched his hand, just briefly, as though understanding, completely, what it felt like to be the runt of the litter.

For a moment, they sat there in silence. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes from her hand, though she had withdrawn it and tucked it underneath the posy now, as though she couldn’t believe she had lost control of it so far as to reach out and touch him.