“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” Joseph didn’t care if the man heard the edge to his tone. In fact, he hoped he did. Nor did Joseph care who else heard him.
“Good evening.”
The sound of Harriet’s voice had Joseph drawing a prolonged breath, willing his temper to cool. As always, she was a balm to troubling thoughts, something he truly appreciated.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” She glanced between Joseph and the reverend, and Joseph knew without a doubt she must’ve heard much of what had been said based on her sympathetic expression.
“Not at all,” Joseph said with a dip of his head, hoping she knew how much he appreciated her timing. “May I say you look especially lovely this evening?”
Her pale blue gown made her eyes look all the bluer. As always, it had a high neck, though this one almost looked as if the thick lace that covered her chest had been added above the previous neckline. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek coiffure that flattered her face.
“Thank you.” She smiled in response only to quickly sober as she glanced at Miss Melbourne, making him wonder at the reason. “Did Frances tell you that we spent a delightful afternoon arranging flowers?”
Joseph nearly laughed at the way she turned toward him and Miss Melbourne, effectively cutting Henderson out of the conversation by angling her body away from the reverend.
“That sounds delightful.” Joseph glanced between the two ladies, unsurprised that Miss Melbourne’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Are you both now experts at the task?”
“We are now, aren’t we, Frances?” Harried asked with a smile. “I didn’t think we’d ever find a place for all those flowers.”
Frances didn’t return her smile, only looking at Harriet with what looked to be coolness in her expression.
Joseph had the feeling he was missing an unspoken conversation between them. Before he could say anything further, they were called to dinner.
Much to his delight, he and Harriet were seated beside one another.
“Is all well with Miss Melbourne?” he asked quietly soon after they had taken their places.
Harriet released a sigh. “I do believe she’s displeased with me.”
“Why?” He couldn’t imagine anyone being unhappy with Harriet, not even Henderson.
She hesitated. “It’s a rather long story.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” He risked another glance at Miss Melbourne who sat near her mother toward the end of the table.
“Not especially.” Her tone sounded troubled. “Not yet.”
That only made him more curious, but he respected her wish and changed the subject. “Your afternoon of arranging flowers sounds like a pleasant way to spend time.”
“It was.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Although not as enjoyable as the morning.”
Her unexpected words sent heat rushing through him. He was coming to truly adore the woman at his side. It was as if he felt complete when she was near. And he liked the fact that they had a secret between them. Something that bound them together.
That brought to mind the messages. Dare he ask if she was the author?
For some reason, he held back, deciding he didn’t want to know yet. For now, he wanted to enjoy this meal with her so near.
Pretending to adjust his chair, he managed to graze his knuckles against her leg.
Her body immediately stiffened, and she gave a quiet gasp. He risked a glance at her, hoping he hadn’t offended her with his blatant flirting.
Her cheeks held a delicate pink, and a small smile slowly curved her lips. But to his disappointment, she didn’t look at him as the footman poured her a glass of wine.
Several minutes passed while they conversed with the people on either side of them. He reached for his wine, only to nearly spill the glass when something brushed against his thigh. He looked toward her, watching as she adjusted the napkin on her lap as if nothing were amiss. His body stirred from that light touch, desire simmering just below the surface.
Uncertain whether it had been an accident or deliberate, he studied her to find that small smile had returned though she didn’t look at him.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her in response.