Merry sagged onto a chair and peered around the drawing room. It was growing late but the summer sun had yet to give itself up. However, the room seemed gray and dull. She stared at the empty fireplace. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked—louder than normal it seemed. A creak of floorboards indicated servants still lingered outside the room, even though she had dismissed them.

She was in no mood to be around people, not now everyone had dispersed after the funeral. Fingering the fabric of her black gown, she considered the strange, empty feeling inside her. Nothing was different—not really. Her father was rarely at home anyway. Him being dead made little difference to her life.

And yet...

She tried to swallow the knot in her throat.

Her family had done their best to comfort her. Which had been strange. She didn’t need comfort. She had never really felt anything for her father. He was a stranger to her. She’d been raised by nannies and a governess who never quite knew what to do with her.

Then Daniel had taken over the role of her protector. Father had just been someone who shut himself away in his office for a while before brusquely saying farewell and going away again. Merry touched her cheek with gloved hands. She could not even recall if he had ever embraced her or brushed a fatherly kiss across her forehead.

She tugged off the gloves and flung them over the side of the chair. Her stays were pulling too tight and a headache had begun to form where the pins pulled her hair too tight. As she plucked them out one by one, the drawing room door eased open.

“I said—” She paused when she realized it was not a servant. “Harry! I thought you had left.”

The Earl of Langley stepped fully into the room. “I should have done perhaps.” He eased the door shut. “But I could not bring myself to.”

Merry stood. “You need not worry. I am perfectly well.” She forced a smile.

He stepped toward her. She had always been aware Harcourt was terribly handsome. The extensive line of lovers he left in his wake was a testament to that. But there was something about him in his funeral wear that had her breath catching slightly. It was an odd sensation—one she had never experienced around Harry before. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Are you well? Do you feel faint?”

She suspected she must look horribly pale. With Daniel away, arranging the funeral had been left up to her. Thankfully she had excellent servants who had helped her with most of it. The butler had been particularly useful. But she had never had to consider such things before. What hymns they would they sing? What the coffin would look like? What would be engraved on her father’s headstone? It has left her feeling strung out and older than her years.

“I am well.” She kept the smile in place. “Go home, Harry. You should not be here anyway.”

“No one is around, and if a man cannot comfort his friend in a time of need, then to hell with everyone.”

A slight laugh bubbled out of her. It was not because he was being especially funny, but his determined expression was a welcome relief from the concerned looks everyone kept giving her.

“I’m glad you can still smile.”

“Of course, I can still smile. I am just fine. Really, I am. You know father and I were not—” Her voice cracked. She gulped and tried again, aware her voice was reed thin. “Were not close.”

“I know, but grief is a strange thing.” He inched closer so that there was barely a foot between them. He tucked a curl behind her ear and the slight warmth of his fingers jarred straight to her heart.

“Daniel shall be home before long,” she said brightly. “I have sent a message to Spain. Of course, it shall take some time to arrive, but I am certain that he shall want to hurry home as soon as he can. After all, he is the new viscount.”

For some reason, Harry would not take his eyes off her. He kept staring at her as though searching for something. It made her feel like she needed to keep rabbiting on until he left or else he might spot something she did not wish him to see.

“He shall want to take up his position quickly and ensure the estate continues to run efficiently, I’m sure,” she continued.

“He might be some time. If the weather is bad on the crossing, it could be weeks before he returns,” he cautioned.

“Of course. I will not expect him any time soon, though I must start getting ready for his return.”

Turning away, she skimmed her hand across the back of the chaise and paused by the window. Outside, the estate sprawled in front of her. She would have to keep it running until Daniel returned—no easy feat. Though she understood how to keep the household going, estate affairs had been very much kept from her by her brother and father. Even when she’d expressed interest in learning, she’d been told there was no reason for her to know.

Well, she was nothing if not a quick learner, and her father had employed some of the best estate managers in the country. Surely it would not be too hard?

She sensed Harry moving closer, coming up behind her. He put a hand to her arm and she turned to face him.

“If you need any help, Merry, I intend to be around as much as you need me. I need to return to London briefly, but I will be staying in Lulworth for the whole of summer.”

“And miss out on the social scene? That does not sound like you.” She tried to add a little amusement into her tone but if fell flat.

“There are more important things than socializing.”

“That definitely does not sound like you.”

“Merry, I would not leave you in a time of need.”

Merry peered up at him. She wanted to protest that statement but could not bring herself to. He’d discarded his hat somewhere, though she had not noticed where, and his chestnut hair had a slightly mussed look to it. She’d always thought of his green eyes as soulful and far too pretty for a man but now she almost hated him for them. They were too intrusive, too aware of everything that was wrapping itself about her insides. How could he know that deep down she was about to break?

Somehow...just somehow Harcourt Easton knew her inside out.

The knot in her throat bunched tighter and her eyes burned. When she felt the first tear escape, she crumbled. A sob bubbled out of her followed by another then another.

Harry closed the gap and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into the warm cocoon of his embrace. She pressed her face into his chest while great sobs wracked her. She could not be sure how long the painful, ugly tears consumed her, but at some point, she became aware of Harry’s hands rubbing up and down her back.

“I do not...” She sucked in a breath but kept her face against his warm, solid chest. “I do not even know why I am crying. I did not love him. And I am certain he did not love me.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept up the soothing touch of his palms over her back.

“I suppose I wonder what might have been...what could have happened if we’d had more time. Maybe one day he would have taken the time to get to know me...maybe...” Another ripple of emotion welled out of her and she could not bring herself to hold it back. She cried until there was nothing left in her.

As the sobs eased, Harry maneuvered her to the chaise longue and eased her down with him. Her eyes were sore and itchy from tears and her chest burned. She found herself scooped up and laid across his lap, his arms enfolding her, making her feel warmer and more protected than she’d felt in days.

“I do wish he could have loved me,” she spilled out.

Harry cupped her head against his chest. She could hear his steady heartbeat, heavy and reassuring. His legs were firm underneath her and she felt the flex of muscles in his arms as he held her tight. For a moment, just for a moment, she allowed herself to be taken away by the feeling. Considering she had recently declared she had no need for men, she could not let herself relish it too much, but there was something wonderfully comforting about having a strong, confident man taking away her worries—if briefly.

“He should have loved you, Merry,” Harry murmured. “There is so much about you to love.”

She wasn’t so sure. Daniel loved her, to be certain, but in that brotherly sort of ‘what is Merry up to now’ way. Since an early age, she’d always been determined to do her own thing. Her governess could not keep up with her and eventually let her manage her own lessons. Stubbornness and being a little too know-it-all at times were not qualities people loved.

“I understand why he did not,” she whispered, feeling another trickle of tears run down her face.

“Well, I do not.” He eased her back a little so that he could lift her chin with a finger and look into her eyes. “There is so much about you to love,” he repeated firmly. “If your father could not see that, that is his fault, and not yours. You are guilty of nothing more than being yourself.”

“Perhaps I should not have been myself...perhaps I should have been better...nicer...more dutiful...” Inwardly, she cursed the tears that would not seem to stop coming. They blurred her vision and trickled down her nose.

Harry drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed away the tears. He brushed a finger along her cheek.

“It was your father who should have done better, not you. Now you must pick yourself up and be the stubborn, strong-headed Merry we all know and love.”

Merry sniffed.

“I mean it.” He tucked that finger back under her chin.

She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. Her stomach did a little flip while his gaze searched hers. She could see the tiny creases around his mouth and eyes and the little brown flecks in the green surrounding his pupils. His pupils widened, darkening his eyes.

Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. They were warm and gentle. Her heart came to a standstill. Before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back. The gentleness gave rapidly away to a passionate sweep of his tongue. Her body tingled from head to toe and her mind was a whirl. She gripped his neck and willed the kiss to never end.

Unfortunately, he pulled back, she felt as though his lips had to still be there, lingering over her mouth. Merry fought for something to say, for her body to move...for anything...but Harcourt Easton had kissed her—what on earth was she meant to do?

He gave a soft smile and eased her off onto the chaise. Pressing the handkerchief into her palm, he dropped a second kiss to her forehead. “Have your lady’s maid fill up a bath and be sure to eat something warm,” he ordered as he straightened.

She nodded numbly.

“I have to go to London for a few days, but I’ll be back, and I expect to find you with your head buried in books and telling me off as usual.”

She nodded again.

He seemed to hesitate then change his mind. “Never change, Merry, you are perfect the way you are.”

When the door thudded shut behind him, it seemed to snap her back. She stared down at the handkerchief and rubbed her fingers across the initials stitched carefully into it. Drawing in a breath, she sat up. Harry was right—but she would never admit as much. There was no changing the past and at the age of twenty, there was no changing her. If her father could not love her, that was not her fault. Now she needed to focus on the future.

And not on that kiss.

Fingers to her lips, she frowned. She had known Harcourt for most of her life, and they had been friends since she came out into Society. He’d taken her hand and even danced with her on occasion, but he’d never kissed her. She supposed she had never been grieving before either. Perhaps it was his way of comforting her. After all, he was such a rake, kissing women for any reason whatsoever was probably quite normal to him.

Not to her, however. That could safely be considered her first kiss, and she had certainly never expected it to come from Harry. No matter how handsome and wonderful she thought him, soon-to-be spinsters did not expect kisses from veritable rakes.

She sighed and smoothed her hands down her skirts. Better not to tell the Spinster Club about it, though. They would never understand why a male friend had kissed her.