Belinda nodded. “Jane was particularly good.”
Jane smiled beatifically. “She wants to take care of me now.”
He was suddenly unsure just what they had done. Let alone achieved. “Just what did you say?”
“It wasn’t what we said,” Belinda informed him, “but how we said it. Madeline now knows the threat we face should you marry some lady who doesn’t take to us, and she’s wise enough to know that our belief in that threat isn’t totally without foundation.”
“Not just a figment of our imaginations,” Annabel put in.
“So, of course, being the sort of person she is, and acting in her usual capacity as de facto protector of the weak in this neighborhood, she now feels protective of us.” Belinda beamed at him. “Which is precisely how we want her to feel, and if you have any nous at all you’ll see that that’s to your advantage.”
Once again he was getting that feeling of slowly sliding out of his depth. He had a nasty suspicion that with his halfsisters, he was going to be feeling that increasingly. He took a moment to regroup, then said, “I agree that today you succeeded in your aim without causing any problem, but what concerns me is…” How to put it? “If you press too hard and open her eyes too early, you’re liable to scupper my efforts. For various reasons, I have to bring her around to the notion of marriage, convince her of the benefits before I even hint at such a thing. If you jerk her to awareness too soon, then my row is going to be much harder to hoe, and—if you’ll recall—Madeline marrying me is the outcome we all desire, you three included.”
“Well, of course,” Belinda said.
“Indeed,” Annabel stated.
Jane just nodded emphatically.
He searched their bright eyes. “So you won’t make any further attempts to manipulate Madeline or tamper with her emotions?”
Belinda flashed him a brilliant smile. “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything that might make it harder for you to win her hand.”
The other two smiled and nodded.
Gervase studied their expressions, and knew that was the best he was going to do. “Very well.”
Still smiling, they bustled to the door.
“Just remember,” he reiterated as they reached it. “No more manipulating Madeline.”
They each cast him a smiling, sisterly glance as they went out, leaving him anything but reassured.
He returned to the forecourt to find Harry waiting to speak with him.
“If you have a moment, there’s, ah…something I’d like to discuss.”
“Of course.” Gervase waved to the ramparts and they headed that way.
Reaching the steps, they went up, and strolled along, faces to the wind, much as he had earlier with Madeline. Harry remained silent, clearly nervous. More used to interrogating than waiting for confidences, Gervase was wondering if there was something he should say to ease the lad’s way when Harry slowed, halted, and turned to look out to sea.
Halting a pace away, Gervase studied his profile, then looked out over the waves, too.
“It’s…about Madeline.” Harry drew in a tight breath and rushed on, “You see, we’ve—Edmond, Ben and me—well, we’ve noticed you seem quite taken with her and we wondered…well, she’s our sister and there’s no one else who might ask, so as I’m her brother…” Harry hauled in a huge breath and swung to face him. “We thought I should ask—”
“What my intentions are.” Gervase nodded, serious and quite sober. He kept his gaze on the sea, giving Harry time to recover his equilibrium. “Indeed. That’s entirely appropriate.”
He hesitated, then forced himself to go on; he might have skirted the edges of his dilemma in warning off his sisters, but given the right Harry had claimed, a right he unquestionably possessed, age or no, then he had to answer with the truth—which meant he had to articulate a problem he’d been doing his best to ignore. “The crux of the matter is I am interested in offering for Madeline’s hand, but she has yet to agree even to consider such an offer.” He paused, then went on, “As you’re aware, she is, quite literally, her own master—and I use that term advisedly. When I first…drew close to her, she noticed, of course. Through our subsequent discussions it was made abundantly plain that she absolutely refuses to credit any vision of herself as my countess.”
“But…why?”
Gervase turned to see Harry blinking at him.
“I mean, there’s no reason she couldn’t be your countess, is there?” Harry frowned. “I know we’re not that old or experienced, but it seemed as if everyone else”—with a gesture he encompassed the surrounding neighborhood—“sees her in that light, or near to it, already.”
“Indeed. There’s no impediment whatever—other than in your sister’s mind. I fully intend to change her mind, but you’ve no doubt had experience of how easy that is to accomplish, especially when she believes she’s right.”
“Ah.” Harry’s expression blanked.