Once suitably confident that Darcy was happily entertained in the kitchen by Cook and her scraps of food, Ivy wandered through the house in search of her friends—after stealing one of the freshly baked buns, of course. Her eyes strayed to the stairs leading to the private bedrooms upstairs, perhaps hoping to see a certain handsome gentleman. But when there was no sign of Tilbury's latest visitor, she sighed and continued her trek through the house.

She found Miss Olivia Newton outside in the garden, where she was cutting roses from a bush. Her friend looked up as she approached. "Ivy!" She smiled. "I expected you some time ago."

"Sorry." Ivy fought back a smile as she remembered Mr Hemsworth telling her she said that an awful lot. He was not wrong. "Darcy ran off. Again."

"I suspected as much." Olivia chuckled. "That dog has as much energy as you do."

"Possibly more." Kneeling next to her friend, Ivy picked up a second knife from the wicker basket of flowers and began cutting roses to help her friend. They sat in silence for a little while as they filled the basket.

She had known Olivia for as long as she could remember. They had both grown up in Tilbury, so it was no surprise they were good friends. But while Ivy had never been further away than the next village over, Olivia would sometimes disappear for weeks at a time to visit her uncle the duke or to attend the London season. There were times when Ivy envied her friend. She would love to see the world outside Tilbury, but as the daughter of an untitled former solicitor who had earned enough to purchase himself a plot of land, she was unlikely to ever leave.

A thorn scratched across the skin of her hand, and she cursed.

Olivia's dark head turned towards her. Seeing the line of blood, she shook her head. "You should have worn gloves."

"I forgot." There was even a spare pair lying in the basket. She sighed.

"Sometimes I think you might forget your head were it not attached to your body." The words might have stung had they been said by anyone else, but Olivia was smiling and her grey eyes twinkled with mirth. Nodding towards Ivy's hand, she said, "You should probably clean that."

Ivy debated just rubbing it off on her dress, but the thought of her mother's disapproving look when she came home with yet another stained garment stopped her. She was about to stand up when a white handkerchief materialised next to her.

"Allow me to assist?"

Sam Hemsworth stood behind them, his hand outstretched and the sun glinting in his dark auburn hair. Something lurched awkwardly in her abdomen as she stared up at his handsome face.

"I... Oh, thank you."

When he held out his other hand, she allowed him to assist her to her feet. She stared at him with bated breath as he took her hand in his and wrapped the linen fabric around it. His grip on her hand was strong and deliberate, and yet somehow felt incredibly intimate with his bare skin against hers. Her skin tingled wherever he touched it.

This must be what attraction felt like. She bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from saying something foolish. Her friends had always spoken of being attracted to men, but this was the first time she had truly felt it herself. While she had joined her friends in giggling over the handsome Viscount Ravenscroft, and she could appreciate the good looks of men who visited the village, this was different.

Their eyes met over their hands and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt it, too. This strange pull to lean in closer. To be near.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Ivy's cheeks burn. Turning to her friend, who had stood as well, she motioned to Sam.

"Olivia, this is Mr Sam Hemsworth," she said, her words coming out in a rush of breath. "I ran into him on my way here. Mr Hemsworth, please meet my friend Miss Olivia Newton."

Mr Hemsworth let go of her hand, and she rather missed the warmth of his fingers on her skin. He sketched a bow. "Miss Newton. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Please allow me to extend my gratitude for allowing me to spend some time in your house."

After an amused glance at Ivy, Olivia smiled at him. "No need, Mr Hemsworth. Any friend of the Winters' is a friend of ours. I hope your travel was not too arduous?"

Ivy stared down at her feet as she remembered that morning's meeting. That was hardly how he had planned his travels to end.

"Got here without too much trouble," he lied smoothly and somehow looked earnest as he did. Ivy wished she possessed that ability. Her mother always said her face was like an open book.

"Oh, good." Olivia took off her gardening gloves and put them in the basket with the flowers. Picking the basket up, she dangled it in her hands while smiling at the visitor. "Would you care to join us for some tea in the drawing room?"

"I would have loved to, but I fear I am due to see your father in a moment." Mr Hemsworth bowed again. "Ladies."

Ivy watched as he walked back to the house, his slightly uneven gait more pronounced than she remembered it from when she first saw him. A pang of guilt niggled at her. Was he in pain because he had done all that walking without his cane? The cane she had lost him when her dog scared his horse off. She groaned inwardly. That poor man. He deserved better than to run into her and Darcy.

"Let's have some tea," Olivia cut into her thoughts, and they walked indoors. After handing the rose basket to a maid and asking for some tea and biscuits to be brought, Olivia led the way to the drawing room.

The Newtons' house was one of Ivy's favourite ones in the village, with spacious airy rooms whose large mullioned windows allowed plenty of light inside. She loved the drawing room with its light pastel colours and view over the back garden. It was so unlike the cottage where she lived where the rooms were smaller and the windows often covered with growing vines, leaving the indoor dark and stuffy. It didn't help that her mother had a deep-seated love for flowers that carried over into both the upholstering of furniture and patterns on wallpaper.

Sitting down on one of the sofas, she ignored the glint of interest in her friend's eyes as Olivia stared at her. When she continued acting as if she didn't notice Olivia's attention, her friend leaned back in her chair with an amused grin.

"So," she said, as Ivy remained quiet. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Ivy asked as she picked at the stitches of a lilac-and-white cushion.

"Don't act daft." Olivia huffed. "You know what I mean. I'm not blind. I saw the looks between you and Mr Hemsworth."

Ivy leaned forward. "There were looks from him?"

When her friend smirked knowingly, she groaned. That had been far too easy.

"I thought so," Olivia said, still grinning. "So, what happened this morning?"

"Nothing of interest," Ivy muttered. "Darcy may have scared off his horse, which had his cane. I felt bad about it and offered to walk with him here."

As if he had heard his name, Darcy nudged the door open and slipped inside, apparently finished begging for scraps in the kitchen. Ivy scratched him behind the ears as he came up to sit on the floor next to her feet.

"That I can believe." Olivia giggled before leaning closer to the dog and ruffling his fur as she crooned, "Are you playing matchmaker for her? Are you? Yes, you are!"

Darcy panted happily at the attention, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. If she didn't know better, Ivy would have thought he was grinning.

"I don't need a matchmaker," she protested. That probably wasn't true. Having made it to the age of twenty with nary a sign of interest from any man, she might need all the help she could get, even if it was from a dog.

Olivia looked up at her. "But you like Mr Hemsworth, right?"

"I... I won't deny he's quite handsome."

They fell silent as a maid came inside carrying a tray with their tea and biscuits. Ivy absent-mindedly fingered the handkerchief still wrapped around her hand, remembering the feeling of Mr Hemsworth's hands on hers. It had been remarkably pleasant.

The maid left, and Olivia filled their cups. "I don't remember you ever being this interested in a man before," she mused, offering Ivy her tea.

With heating cheeks, Ivy accepted it while mumbling, "Let's not overstate it. I have only just met him."

"That's what attraction is sometimes." Olivia leaned back with her tea; a biscuit resting on the saucer. "It hits you when you least expect it, and it can be instant. I remember immediately feeling drawn to Dash when I first met him."

Dash again. Ivy had never met him since he belonged to the other part of Olivia's life. The part she lived away from Tilbury, in London and wherever else her higher social standing brought her. But she had certainly heard much of it. Olivia was besotted with the young man and would not look at another while she still might catch his interest. Ivy was unwilling to say it for fear of hurting her friend, but she felt that if this man didn't love Olivia by now, he was unlikely to ever do so.

"Still," Olivia continued. "It will be nice to have another eligible gentleman around. Other than Ravenscroft, the only local bachelor worthy of a moment's notice is Ash."

Ivy made a face at the mention of her brother. Like all the Edwards children, their mother had named him after a plant. While her sisters were named after beautiful flowers; Marigold, Rose, and Lily, her brother was named after a tree, and she a clinging vine. She never quite understood her mother's thinking on that one. She supposed a tree was all right, but a clinging vine? It didn't seem quite fair.

Deciding it was time to change the subject, she took a sip of her tea before casually asking, "Where is everyone? I thought The Bluestockings were meeting today?"

'The Bluestockings' was a moniker they had adopted for their group of friends since they all enjoyed reading and had started a little book club where they would meet once a week to discuss their latest books. It was usually a derogatory term to describe women who enjoyed literature or learning, so they took great pleasure in using it themselves.

"We were," Olivia agreed. "But Alice had to help Lady Ravenscroft prepare for the ball and Nell went to help too."

"Is Imogen back from London yet?"

Imogen Everleigh was an American whose father did business with Olivia's. She had been staying with the Newtons to experience England for several months but hadn't returned to the countryside after the London season yet, having asked to stay a little longer.

"Not yet. I received a letter the other day saying she expects to be back in time to attend the Ravenscroft ball." Olivia smiled. "I know I have had a whole season in London with balls and all sorts of activities but it feels different to attend a ball back home. We haven't had one in years."

"I suppose it helped that you made Alice convince her cousin to host one." Ivy grinned and her friend grinned back. Miss Alice Burton was the daughter of a squire but often visited her cousin, Viscount Ravenscroft and his mother the Dowager Viscountess during the summers.

"They do dote on her, and I don't see why we couldn't use that to our advantage," Olivia said with eyes glittering with mischief. "Ravenscroft should put more effort into finding a wife in any case. He's not getting any younger."

"I'm sure he would love for you to offer that guidance." Ivy tried to hold back a laugh as her friend only lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"It's the truth. He hasn't courted anyone since Lady Jessica turned him down, and that's several years ago now."

"Broken heart?"

Olivia's pretty face sobered as she considered the question. "No, I don't believe so. I could be wrong but I don't think he was truly in love. Perhaps I should play matchmaker," she mused. "I can't seem to get Dash to notice me, but maybe I can help someone else find love."

"I don't know," Ivy said, wrinkling her nose. "Do you think it is wise to meddle in other people's lives?"

"Probably not," Olivia admitted with a sigh. "It would have been so much fun though."

A while later, Ivy said goodbye to her friend and left to return home. She had promised her mother to help with the mending that afternoon, though she wasn't sure why, considering she was a disaster with a needle and thread. Her attention would wane and she would constantly prick herself with the needle. Once her mother had tried to fit her with a thimble on every finger, but that had made her completely unable to work the stitches. Another time she had sewn her brother's shirt onto her own skirt while trying to mend a hole in the garment.

Darcy ran ahead of her down the road shadowed by lime trees before suddenly stopping and disappearing between the trees. She thought little of it—he was a dog, after all—until she heard the dark timbre of a man's voice. Hurrying her footsteps, she discovered Mr Hemsworth sitting on a stone, his hands in the dog's dark fur as he scratched the dog's ears.

"Mr Hemsworth," she said and bobbed a curtsy. "What are you doing out here?"

"I had intended to walk down to the post office to send a letter, but I fear this is as far as I got," he admitted with a wry smile.

Guilt niggled at the back of her mind again. Was he in pain after having had to walk for so far without his walking stick earlier? He now had a cane resting against the stone next to him. He noticed her attention and picked it up.

"Mr Newton kindly lent me this for my stay. But I've walked too far today without one and now I am paying the price."

"I'm so sorry," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "This is all my fault."

"Technically, it's your dog's fault." He didn't look angry, even if he had every right to be. His hand still rested on Darcy's neck and the shaggy dog didn't look to be in a rush to leave. "But please, stop apologising. Accidents happen, and I will be fine as soon as I've had some rest."

"I'm sure if you gave the letter to Norwell, the butler, he would have it posted. Or I could bring the letter to the post office for you? It's the least I can do."

A shadow passed over his face as he considered her words. "No, that's all right," he said. "I can post it tomorrow. It's not that urgent."

"It's really no trouble."

"Thank you, but it's really not needed." There was a note in his voice that cautioned her not to press it, so she held back. When she said nothing, he visibly relaxed and cleared his throat. "I was hoping you might show me around Tilbury tomorrow?"

More time alone with him before he met every other single woman in the village? She nodded. "Of course. I'd love to."

"Perhaps we could meet outside the post office at one?" He smiled up at her, the dimples in his cheeks visible and her insides did an awkward somersault. No man had ever given her this much attention before. Certainly not a man as handsome as this. She wasn't entirely sure how to behave in the face of it.

"Sounds perfect. I will meet you there." She was about to leave when she remembered the fabric wrapped around her hand. "Oh, your handkerchief!"

"Keep it." The hint of a smile in his voice made her stare down at her hand again.

It was just a piece of cloth, but somehow the thought of keeping his personal handkerchief felt practically indecent. Most likely he simply didn't want it back stained with her blood, but it still felt like something intimate just between them. She mentally shook herself. No, that was ridiculous. He just didn't want a bloodied piece of cloth. There was no need to read anything into the gesture.

Before she could make a fool out of herself somehow, she bobbed a curtsy and said a quick farewell. Then she hurried home as if the devil himself were snapping at her heels. 

~~~~~~