Dalton's Challenge: A Regency Romance (The Harcourts Book 2) Page 2

  Still, he could not help scoffing as aggravating memories of the past two years flooded his mind. “I tried to last night—again. I can never get anywhere with that woman. She does not make it easy, Anna, I assure you. She is impossible to talk to.”

  Anna looked over at her brother and narrowed her deep brown eyes, clearly ready to scold him.

  “I know, I know,” Dalton hurried. “It is all my fault for so cruelly hurting her feelings. She has every right to be upset with me.”

  His wise sister gave a knowing smile as she continued her work on the knitted gown. “You seem as though you have more you want to say.”

  “You know I will never be able to make amends if she clobbers me to death before I can get a proper apology out.” Dalton’s jaw clenched in anger. He was at fault, yes, but he really did want to make things right. At least, he had wanted to before he had discovered just how stubborn Miss Thirley could be. “Worrying about all this does not make for very enjoyable dinner parties,” he grumbled, again feeling like an insolent child.

  The drawing room door slowly creaked open. Both Dalton and Anna looked up to see Noah, Anna’s husband, slip into the room with a happy smile. He kissed Anna on the cheek by way of greeting before pausing in front of Dalton. He quickly got up from his seat, carefully passing Beth to her father. Somehow, Dalton felt lighter and happier, watching the baby wiggle in her blanket as she went from one pair of strong, loving arms to another.

  In his typical fashion, Noah sat beside his wife, staring at Dalton as the younger man took a seat opposite the happy couple. “Is something bothering you, my friend?” he asked immediately.

  Of course, Anna had married the most observant man in England. Dalton liked his brother-in-law very much. His uncanny ability to know these things within seconds still surprised Dalton. He did not particularly enjoy having Noah’s pensive gaze turned in his direction at this exact moment. Dalton had been smiling just a moment ago as he passed his niece back to her father. So how had Noah sensed that something was wrong? The skill mystified Dalton.

  Anna put an understanding hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I am afraid it is Miss Thirley again.”

  “Ahh,” Noah sighed, peering down into the bundle of blankets in his arms. Anna leaned in closer, reaching over to brush a gentle finger against Beth’s cheek before taking the edge of the blanket and wiping away the drool.

  Since marrying Anna last summer, Noah had been updated on all the Harcourt family matters. In truth, Dalton would have been completely fine with omitting his disastrous acquaintanceship with Miss Thirley.

  The Waynfords had arrived in London shortly after the new year as Noah had to help his father with business and banking matters, which meant that Anna had given birth in London. The Harcourts had come to London just before the start of the Season, and much of their first few weeks had been spent fawning over Anna and the baby. During their first week back to regular social activities, Dalton and Noah had been invited to a card night hosted by Noah’s good friend, Mr. Phineas Tilson, and his wife.

  Somehow, as she tended to do, Miss Thirley had appeared at the card party. Dalton could not understand how they kept running into each other. Clearly, their circles overlapped far too much. Dalton had had to explain to his very concerned brother-in-law why that young woman looked ready to take revenge on Dalton for what must have been an ancient grudge, based on the way she glowered at him. As a matter of fact, the grudge was only two years old. It felt ancient to Dalton already.

  “Miss Thirley seems to be on your mind quite often these days.” Noah’s mouth lifted up at the corner in a small smile, his eyes still fixed on his daughter.

  Dalton sank further back into his chair, crossing his arms. He truly sulked like a child now. He hated that Noah was right, though only because Miss Thirley caused him so many headaches. Her beauty—reminiscent of deep summer days of golden fields and dark green grass—had nothing to do with it.

  Of course, Dalton felt immensely guilty for what he had said two years ago. He knew he had hurt her badly, despite her best efforts to hide it. The fact that her anger persisted to this day revealed the truth. Or perhaps she truly was made of ice, trapping her grudge within, never to melt away.

  “Are you thinking about Miss Thirley again?” Anna asked playfully.

  Dalton jumped when he realized his mistake. He had been quiet for too long, failing to respond to Noah’s comment. He did not miss the meaningful glance passed between Anna and Noah. He did not like that look at all. Surely they must think that it would be just perfect for Dalton to end up with the dreaded Miss Winifred Thirley. A chill raced down Dalton’s spine. That sort of thing only happened in fairy tales.

  As much as Dalton wished he could live in a fairy tale, he knew this was his real life. His real life already came with enough burdens that he constantly tried to throw off without adding the stress of a hateful woman glaring daggers at him every chance she got.

  A muffled wail caught Dalton’s attention, softening him a bit. Beth had started to fuss, throwing her tiny arms around in her blanket. Anna took her daughter from Noah, smiling down at her with so much love that Dalton forgot about his worries for just a moment.

  He was so very happy that his dear older sister had married the love of her life and started a family of her own. She had dreamed of this all her life, and she had gone through quite a journey to make that dream come true. Dalton had no doubt in his mind that Anna deserved all the love and happiness she now had.

  His peace melted away when Anna looked over at him and, with an almost unbearably sweet smile, said, “I really do think you should give Miss Thirley a chance. There is still time for her to come around.”

  Dalton huffed, growing more irritated with himself for his immature behavior. He could not help it. Miss Thirley brought out a different side to him. “I am afraid I must be going now. Thank you for the lovely visit.” He stood from his chair, gripping the bottom of his waistcoat and tugging it down with more force than necessary. “And I shall not return without reinforcements. I am sure Caroline will take up for me. She saw how Miss Thirley treated me last night.”

  “Say goodbye to your uncle, Beth,” Anna cooed at the still squirming baby in her arms.

  Dalton could not help smiling. He had truly come to enjoy being called uncle. Something about seeing his sister start on this new journey had made Dalton contemplate his own life—an activity he avoided at all costs. He needed to get away from this lovely family scene.

  He could not bear the thought of hearing himself being called by other names like husband or father. Those titles needed to stay far, far away for as long as possible.

  Once back in the safety of the Harcourt family’s townhouse, Dalton dragged himself up the stairs to the library. He needed some sort of distraction or perhaps something to revive his energy. The day had drained him. Agonizing over Miss Thirley and her frustrating behavior always drained him.

  He pushed the heavy wood door open, wondering if he might find an exciting adventure novel to pick up his spirits. Instead, he found Patrick seated by the unlit fireplace, his legs hanging over the arm of his chair. His book had captivated him so completely that he did not hear anyone come in.

  Dalton never missed an opportunity to tease his younger brother. He slipped closer, treading as lightly as possible. Finally, he seized the back of Patrick’s chair and shook it, his laughter mingling with the younger man’s surprised shriek.

  Patrick jumped up, whirling around to face his attacker. His chest heaved up and down, his black hair disheveled. “Dalton! Why must you always bother me?” he cried, his voice cracking just slightly in his irritation.

  Dalton drew in a few deep breaths, stifling his laughter. “That is what brothers do, is it not?”

  Though he tried to keep his expression stern, Patrick’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “That is what these brothers do, I suppose.”

  He put a hand on Dalton’s chest, giving him a playful push. Dalton had to take a step back to keep from losing his balance. Patrick grew stronger and taller by the day. Dalton feared that his younger brother might soon be taller than him.

  “You know you should not be sitting like that.” Dalton crossed his arms, drawing himself up to his full height. He was only half-serious, as he was about most things.

  Patrick did not seem bothered. “What does it matter? It is only me in here.” He shrugged, picking up his book from the floor and flipping back to the right page.

  “You should be thankful it was me and not Mama who caught you. This was nothing compared to the scolding she would give you,” Dalton reminded firmly.

  “Please do not tell Mama.” Patrick looked down at the book in his hands, biting his lip. If word of this got back to Mama, he would be banned from the library for a week.

  Dalton narrowed his eyes at his younger brother, weighing his options for a moment. He had never intended to get Patrick into trouble. He just could not help teasing him a bit more. When Patrick glanced up, his eyes round and almost childlike, Dalton finally relented with a grin. “Of course I will not.”

  He ruffled Patrick’s hair as he walked past toward the nearest shelf, pulling out a book at random. Patrick had already found his seat again. Dalton took the chair opposite, adopting a very similar position with one leg under his lap and the other over the arm of the chair. He did not care about formality when it was just the two of them.

  Unsurprisingly, Patrick easily sank back into his story. Dalton, on the other hand, only made it a few pages into his book before slamming it shut. After realizing that his eyes only skimmed over the sentences, the letters blurring into an almost foreign language, he knew reading would do him no good.

  “I think I shall take the phaeton out to the park and try to find someone who
wants to race,” Dalton announced, setting his book down on the end table next to his chair. He knew Patrick would return it to its rightful place.

  “And why might you be so twisted up?” Patrick asked without removing his eyes from the page before him. “You only want to race or watch a boxing match when something is upsetting you.”

  With an annoyed sigh, Dalton stood up and crossed his arms. “Miss Thirley,” he mumbled.

  To Dalton’s surprise, Patrick placed a piece of paper in his book to mark his spot, closing it with all the gentleness and respect Dalton lacked for fine works of literature. The younger man leaned forward, eyeing his older brother with surprising wisdom.

  “Have you ever considered making amends with Miss Thirely so you can take this burden off your shoulders?”

  Dalton fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “Of course I have tried. Anna suggested the exact same thing earlier today. I swear, you both have become too similar for my liking. I returned home because I did not particularly feel like listening to Anna’s well-intentioned suggestions, and now I get more from you.”

  The bitterness and frustration came through in Dalton’s voice loud and clear. He swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, guilt immediately making him regret speaking so harshly to Patrick. Just like Anna, Patrick only wanted to help. For some reason, he could not quite bring himself to apologize.

  Patrick did not seem bothered at all by his older brother’s words. He leaned back into his chair, gazing at Dalton thoughtfully. He looked rather mature—so much more like a future baron than Dalton ever did.

  “Would you mind one more suggestion before you go about your merry way?” Patrick asked, his tone even and patient.

  Dalton shrugged, looking around the room so he did not have to see the innate wisdom in his younger brother’s eyes, the wisdom and poise he himself lacked. “I suppose.”

  “Why don’t you invite her on an outing rather than just bumping into her at events around London? If you invite her out for some activity, specifically for the two of you, she may feel more comfortable.”

  Just as Dalton opened his mouth to argue, Patrick gave a weary sigh. Again, Dalton somehow felt put in his place. A strange mixture of pride and embarrassment raced through him. Patrick really was nearly a grown man now. Dalton could see it more and more every day, in both his physical appearance and in the way he conducted himself. At sixteen, Patrick certainly had a good head on his shoulders. Dalton wished he could have inherited some of the sense and thoughtfulness that Patrick had inherited from Papa. Those traits were better suited to men who would one day hold the title of baron.

  “Perhaps she is not receptive to you because she is surprised that you have crossed paths again, just as you are. I know I would not be terribly interested in conversing with someone I find difficult when they appear before me so unexpectedly,” Patrick continued with a sage nod.

  Dalton had to admit to himself that Patrick’s assessment made perfect sense. He had always been better at empathizing with and understanding others.

  Again, Dalton could not help feeling that it was a bit of a shame that Patrick would go on to become an examiner of plays instead of Baron Welsted, where he would be able to put his humanitarian nature to better use. Dalton knew that was not Patrick’s dream. He loved drama and theater, so his chosen career path had not come as a surprise to anyone in the family. Patrick had never wanted to be a baron. Then again, neither had Dalton.

  He shook his head as he pondered Patrick’s advice. “That all sounds well and good in theory, dear brother, but Miss Thirley would never agree to such a thing. I know her well enough to be sure of that fact.”

  The street outside Astley’s Amphitheater slowly filled with more people, arriving for a night of entertainment. Dalton was just one of many lingering outside, waiting for the rest of their party to join or chatting with friends.

  He could not believe Miss Thirley had agreed to meet him here. Mama had organized the date and time by reaching out to her acquaintance, Mrs. Thirley, and suggesting that Dalton would like to renew his friendship—as Mama had so kindly put it—with the lady’s daughter.

  Now, Dalton stood before Astley’s, waiting for Miss Thirley to arrive. What on Earth had possessed her to accept his invitation? Dalton had only agreed to ask her on an outing to prove to Patrick that the woman was stubborn beyond all reason. He shivered at the memory of the sly smile on his younger brother’s face when Mama had read Mrs. Thirley’s return letter, stating that her daughter would be delighted to spend more time with Dalton.

  He glanced up and down the street, looking for a short blonde woman to step out of one of the many carriages lining up before Astley’s. He also could not fathom how such a tiny creature could carry so much spite inside her. How did she have room for it all?

  With an annoyed sigh, Dalton turned on his heel. He had expected someone as rigid and painfully proper as Miss Thirley to be on time. He marched into the foyer to escape the sunlight. He hoped she would not show up after all—though a very, very small part of him, the part he tried to smother, hoped she would.

  Dalton only took a few steps into the foyer, working his way around the other people milling about, when he sensed that all too familiar chilling gaze upon him. A quick glance to his left revealed a pair of dark green eyes staring at him through an opening in the crowd. He let out a muffled groan. That would be just his luck. Miss Thirley had been here the whole time, punctual as always.

  The young woman approached Dalton, easily slipping through the crowd, her face still as stone. “You are late,” was all she said in greeting. Anyone would find this to be extremely rude. Instead, Dalton found himself fighting a smile.

  “Lovely to see you as well, Miss Thirley.” He lowered his head in a friendly bow, noticing the way her eyebrow twitched as she fought off a scowl. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am, in fact, not late. I waited outside for you like any normal person would.”

  Miss Thirley tilted her head to the side, her expression still almost unreadable. Almost. Each golden strand of hair remained perfectly in place despite her movement. Dalton wished one of them would come loose, brushing against her temple which had the slightest trace of a vein pressing up against her pale skin.

  She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Dalton as if he were a complete and utter fool. “Why would anyone wait outside with all the traffic noise and the pungent odors of London and the sun beating down on them?

  “In any case, I am afraid I do not believe you. You could be making excuses for all I know. You really should remember that being early to any event is extremely important.”

  Much to his surprise, Dalton found his eyes growing wide with a sensation he did not often experience when it came to Miss Thirley. He pitied her. Life could not have been very fun with that kind of attitude. She was just as severe as she had been when he had briefly courted her two years ago—if a single carriage ride could be called a courtship.

  Miss Thirley had been uncomfortably silent on their one and only trip to Hyde Park after meeting at a dinner hosted by their parents’ mutual friend. Dalton had been left to fill the silence with his ramblings. The woman had barely spared a glance in his direction the whole time, let alone a smile or some simple comment.

  His fate had been sealed just a few nights later when he had gathered with his friends at a dance to tell them about his disastrous outing with Miss Thirley. He had told them in no uncertain terms that she was completely frigid and nearly impossible to talk to. When she had deigned to speak, she only mentioned dull things like responsibilities and propriety. Apparently, he had also said she had a face of stone.

  Naturally, Miss Thirley had been standing right behind him. She had heard every word, earning Dalton an enemy for life.

  How exactly had he let Patrick convince him to go on an outing with said enemy at Astley’s? It was too late now. He would have to make do and hope he survived the afternoon. He stared down his nose at Miss Thirley with a sly smile. “I was just so eager to watch you come down from your high horse.”

  Miss Thirley sighed, turning her face away from Dalton. “We should go inside and find our seats.”