Miss Westlake's Windfall by Bárbara Metzger Page A

keeping busy. She would never accept Mr. Tothy, of course, for she could not relish the idea of sharing his boring sermons, much less his bed, but it was satisfying to be asked.
    She had told him she’d think about her answer, but only to ease her conscience, that she had not rejected a respectable offer out of hand. If Ada were willing to accept a marriage of convenience, however, she could have wed Chas two years ago, which would have been infinitely more convenient, from a practical viewpoint. Ada paused in her brushing to consider if one of her recommendations to the vicar might just be her ability to stretch a shilling. Well, she could have done more for the parish, too, as the wife of its leading landowner, than married lo its man of the cloth.
    She would tell him on Sunday, Ada decided, that she was honored by his proposal, but she felt she had to refuse. With regrets. She would be certain to add her regrets. Her family needed her more at home right now, she would tell him, which he had to understand. There was no way Tess could fit in the tiny manse, if Mr. Tothy were willing to invite her, and Ada would not leave her sister to Jane’s untender mercies. Mostly, she would tell him, she was not willing to give her hand where her heart could not follow. He might chide her for holding onto silly schoolgirlish dreams the way Jane had, but the vicar would never shout at her or slam doors, since neither his heart nor his pride was involved. Ada did not have to worry about bruising any masculine feelings, which naturally reminded her of Chas.
    He had been jealous, she knew it. First of Leo Tobin, then of the vicar, and jealousy was not a bad thing, Ada considered, not in someone who was used to thinking of her as just another playmate. Of course, the notion of Viscount Ashmead entertaining a house full of well-bred, well-dowered, and willing young females was not sitting so easily on Ada’s plate, either, but if she could suffer that unpalatable prospect, his lordship could resent Reverend Tothy.
    How did she know he was jealous? A mere friend would be happy that Ada had received an honorable offer. A family confidant might even have urged her to consider the vicar’s suit, since respectable swains were not thick on the ground around Lillington, and spinsterhood loomed. An old chum might have laughed with her at the absurdity of the hoydenish Miss Ada Westlake turning into a pillar of the community.
    Chas had growled. Yes, it was a distinct growl. The memory warmed Ada even as her bedroom grew cold as the fire died down. Still, she dawdled over braiding her hair, missing half the flyaway curls anyway, letting an even warmer recollection stave off the chill. He’d kissed her good-bye. He didn’t have to, was not supposed to, should not have repeated the previous day’s folly, but Chas had kissed her again. The ground did not move this time, but neither was it a fond, brotherly salute, not by half. Ada trembled, and not from the cold. If kisses were roses, she’d tuck this one away under her pillow.
    What was he about, then? Chas could never be so ungentlemanly as to entertain rakish notions, could he? No, Ada refused to think that his intentions were anything less than honorable, no matter what Jane said about his repeated visits. Ada would just have to wait to see what tomorrow brought; a growl and a kiss were enough for today.
    The rest of the day, after Chas left, had also been a pleasure; Jane had kept to her rooms. So aux anges at the thought of the invitations to come from Lady Ashmead’s house party, Rodney’s widow had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening closeted with her maid, unpacking all of the trunks from the attic to see which gowns could be refashioned in the current modes, which fabric could be unpicked to make new frocks. She’d already been to the Misses Hannefords’ lending library for the latest editions of every ladies’ fashion magazine the sisters carried, and studied them over a