“How well it looks,” she said with laughter sparking in her eyes.
“I shall wear it every time we meet,” he said with a grin.
“Fool,” she said too softly for her mother, who was discussing a knitting pattern with his, to hear.
For a moment, they contemplated each other.
Later, in the bright moonlight, Harry escorted the ladies to the front door of their cottage. He crossed the lawn and leaped over the fence, his mind filled with images of Cecily, laughing over her mulled wine at the foolish hat on his head. She was quite the most interesting and attractive girl he’d ever met. Something had definitely sparked between them. But nothing could come of it. He could not contemplate settling down until he rose to a higher position in the accountancy firm. And he could hardly carry her over the threshold of his shabby two-room flat.
He climbed the stairs slowly. Had he dreamt up the woman in white? Perturbed, he entered his old bedroom. He found it comforting to gaze about at the paraphernalia he’d gathered throughout his childhood that his mother refused to store in the attic: banners and his award for topping mathematics at college, a cup he won for running, his books, and his ice skates. It put the featureless rooms he rented in London to shame. And somehow, it grounded him.
*
Mr. Harrison Johnsonwas so handsome, with his deep brown eyes, curly chestnut hair, and tall stature. His tale of the lady in the white veil and the mist was puzzling. Could she have been a ghost? It was indeed strange that she’d disappeared so quickly. More likely a loose woman trying to engage his attentions, Cecily decided. She would have liked to question him further, but under her mother’s keen eye, she had no chance to.
As they prepared for bed, her mother expressed her distrust of Harrison. “I can’t admire a man who talks nonsense and expects us to believe him. That strange woman in the mist.” She clucked her tongue. “He would have been flirting with her, no doubt. He is probably a rake. One hears such stories of young men left to their own devices in the metropolis. Such a pity, too, when his father has such a steadfast character.”
Cecily knew better than to argue with her mother in this frame of mind. But really, there was nothing rakish about the conservative Harrison Johnson. She caught a twinkle in his eye and wanted to make him laugh more. But beneath her mother’s unwavering gaze, a flirtation was unthinkable.
Quite cast down, she changed into her night clothes. She would like to see him again. But as he lived in London and only planned to spend a few days here, there seemed little chance of it. Unless… Harry had promised his father to take their Scottie dog, Benny, out for an early morning walk.
The next morning, Cecily rose early and dressed before Mary brought her cup of tea. When she opened the window, the crisp air held a hint of snow and made her shiver. This mist Harrison spoke of seemed most curious. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, and although she’d seen no evidence of it herself, she did not believe Harrison had made it up. Why would he? There was a mystery here, and she loved mysteries. Intent on catching him when he left the house to walk the dog, she kept an eye out for him as she dressed. When Mary entered with Cecily’s cup of tea, she sat on the window seat to drink it.
She had drunk the last dregs when the Johnson’s front door opened, and Harrison stepped out, with Benny on a lead. As he and the dog started down the path, Cecily leaned her elbows on the sill and called to him. He looked up and smiled.
“Good morning, Miss Dunstable.”
“I wonder if you would care for some company on your walk?” Cecily asked.
He nodded. “Very much.”
“If you care to wait, I shan’t be a moment.”
Cecily checked her appearance in the mirror and hurried to the stairs. She would be back before her mother left her bed.
Chapter Two
Dressed in adark-blue coat with a velvet collar and a matching blue bonnet, Cecily opened her gate. Harrison smiled a welcome from the footpath while Benny, tail wagging, sniffed the grass at the side. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
“I did, thank you.” She raised her skirts with gloved hands, offering a glimpse of white petticoats above her gray boots.
“My story of the woman in the park did not unduly alarm you?”
“Oh, no. I found it very interesting.”
“I’m glad.” When she took his proffered arm, he breathed in the scent of lily of the valley.
As they walked along the footpath, he glanced sideways at her. The pale blue ribbons decorating her bonnet were the color of her eyes, and the cold air painted roses on her cheeks. Aware he was staring, he tugged at Benny’s lead to move the little dog forward. “How long have you and your mother lived here?”
“Eight months. Mother had to sell our house after Papa died. She manages the flower shop in Totnes. On busy days, I serve behind the counter.”
He enjoyed a pleasant vision of Cecily surrounded by fragrant blooms. “Do you have a favorite flower?”
“I like them all. Daisies are a happy flower, don’t you think?”
He nodded. “An excellent description. They’re such a pleasant sight growing wild in the meadows.”
They reached the park gates. He turned to her. “Shall we go in?”