Romancing the Heiress(20)
Author: Darcy Burke

 

Continuing along the path, Leah spotted another familiar face approaching them. Mr. Mercer moved toward them jauntily with a fashionable walking stick.

 

“I didn’t realize Mr. Mercer was here,” Mrs. Selkirk said with one eye slightly narrowed. “He is a committed bachelor. Why would he come to a matchmaking festival?”

 

Leah knew the answer to that, of course, that he was here with business in mind, not matrimony. But to say so would prick Mrs. Selkirk’s curiosity as to how they’d met and perhaps even her ire. Better to do what was expected of a companion in the Selkirk household: remain silent.

 

Fixing a bright, welcoming smile on her face, Mrs. Selkirk greeted Mr. Mercer when he was close enough to converse with. “I don’t think you’ve met my daughter, Miss Genevieve Selkirk.”

 

Genevieve dipped into a curtsey, and Mr. Mercer bowed. “It is my honor.”

 

“I believe you know Mrs. Dunhill,” Mrs. Selkirk continued. “This is Genevieve’s companion.” She didn’t bother giving Leah’s name.

 

Mr. Mercer’s gaze settled on Leah. “How lovely to see you again, Miss Webster.” He took her hand and bent his head over it, but stopped short of dropping his lips to her knuckles. Thank goodness.

 

Leah didn’t dare look at Mrs. Selkirk. Yet she did so anyway. The woman’s blue eyes were slits of annoyance as they stared disapprovingly at Leah.

 

Relaxing her features into a far more pleasant expression, Mrs. Selkirk addressed Mr. Mercer. “Perhaps you’d care to join us on our promenade. Genevieve is in want of an escort.”

 

Before poor Mr. Mercer could respond—and what could he say besides yes?—Genevieve’s face lit up like a sunrise. “Oh look, Mr. Radford is coming this way.”

 

Leah pivoted and saw Phin heading toward them. She was irrationally perturbed that she hadn’t seen him before Genevieve. Jealousy, it seemed, was a difficult thing to keep at bay.

 

Genevieve looked so pleased to see Phin, and he smiled directly at her. In that moment, they seemed destined for the altar. Leah chided herself for feeling morose. She wanted Phin to be happy, and if Genevieve made him happy, so be it.

 

Ah, that was much easier thought than accepted.

 

“What a wonderful happenstance to find you here,” Phin said to no one in particular. His gaze fell on Mr. Mercer, who quickly introduced himself.

 

Sticking out his hand, he said, “I’m Lionel Mercer. Visiting from London.”

 

Phin shook his hand. “Phineas Radford. Welcome to Marrywell. I hope our festival meets your every expectation.”

 

“I can’t say I have any expectations about the festival,” Mr. Mercer said mildly. “I’m most interested in how it works, in what attracts people by the hundreds to come here.”

 

“We’re taking a promenade if you’d care to join us, Mr. Radford,” Genevieve said, which Leah found somewhat bold of her.

 

“I’d be delighted.” Phin offered Genevieve his arm, and Leah noticed that Mrs. Selkirk pursed her lips. Her plan for Genevieve to walk with Mr. Mercer had been foiled. Why had it been important to her? She’d been eager for Phin’s suit before. Had something changed, or was she merely trying to cast a wide net to increase Genevieve’s chances? As a maiden fair, it seemed she would be guaranteed a proposal by the end of the festival.

 

But what was it Leah had just thought to herself about guarantees?

 

Mr. Mercer moved to Leah’s side. “Might I offer my escort?” He held out his arm.

 

This time, Leah did not look at Mrs. Selkirk. “Yes, thank you.”

 

Leah curled her hand around the man’s gray superfine and tried not to succumb to a sullen expression as Phin and Genevieve led the way.

 

 

 

 

 

Phin hadn’t been sure what he’d walked upon, but he’d caught Mrs. Selkirk’s subtle moue of disapproval. Had he interrupted something between Miss Selkirk and Mr. Mercer? He hoped not. Mercer’s jeweled pin in his blindingly white cravat along with his impossibly glossy Hessians proclaimed his wealth and, likely, status. If the Selkirks learned Phin was a fortune hunter, he’d have no chance at all.

 

And this was really the only chance he had.

 

Walking amidst the gardens, he was painfully aware of how lackluster many of the flower beds appeared. Of how some shrubs and hedgerows hadn’t been as carefully trimmed as they ought to have been. With fewer people to perform the labor, they just hadn’t been able to get everything done, nor had they met the usual standards.

 

Mercer and Leah caught up to them. Phin looked over at her—she was between him and Mercer—and couldn’t help but notice how she and Mercer complemented one another. They looked like London Society walking about the park to see and be seen. Wasn’t that what London Society did?

 

Gesturing with his walking stick, Mercer said, “I must say, these gardens aren’t as spectacular as I’d heard. I’d expected a blinding explosion of flowers at every turn.”

 

Phin slid a look toward the man, but saw Leah’s expression instead. Her eyes had widened, and she glanced at Phin with a faint grimace.

 

“The abysmal weather last year has affected every garden in England,” Phin said. He wasn’t sure that was true, but he’d read enough from the horticultural society to know that the cold temperatures and excessive rain had ruined a great many gardens.

 

Mercer nodded. “I hadn’t considered that. What a calamity.”

 

It was terrible of Phin to be grateful for disastrous weather to cover his father’s mistakes, but it was all out of his hands, so he’d just take whatever grace he could.

 

“What do you know about the follies?” Mercer asked. “I’m quite interested in the variety and wondered if each had a story. Shame about that one in the labyrinth. That will cost a pile of guineas to repair. I was hoping to meet the gentleman who oversees the gardens. Do you know him?”

 

Phin gritted his teeth but forced his lips into a halfhearted smile. “Indeed, I do. He is me.”

 

Mercer’s brows arched as his eyes rounded. “Oh. Well. I hope you didn’t take offense at my comments. Just one businessman sharing an observation with another.”

 

Except Phin was not a businessman. He was a horticulturalist—on his best days. Really, he was a gardener.

 

“Phin’s grandfather was a renowned horticulturalist, and he started the gardens,” Leah said rather energetically and with more than a hint of pride. “The land belongs to the Radford Grange estate, but the Radford family opened it to all of Marrywell and those who visit.”