Free Finding Miss McFarland by Vivienne Lorret

seen at the same function, if at all possible. In fact, since her debut—a full year ago, mind you—we’ve only met by chance three times.” The stray bonnet in the park, the disaster in the parlor, the blunder in the conservatory . . . hmm. Had it really only been three times? The fact that it seemed like a greater number of encounters bespoke of how ill suited they were, no doubt.
    “And how do you think she manages to avoid you all the time?” his father asked.
    Griffin gave the reins a snap, pushing the horses into a trot down the park path. “Do you know she admitted to having me watched for the purpose of avoiding me?” Ludicrous. It irritated him to think that she cared whether or not the ton saw them attend the same function.
    “Odd, but likely she has her reasons,” his father mused, his fingers still tapping. “Though it seems a man wouldn’t want such a woman to have the upper hand all the time. In fact, it might even serve her right—give her a taste of her own medicine, to my way of thinking—if she thought you were attending one event, when you actually intended to go to another. Just as a way to even the score.”
    Griffin found himself nodding, pleased with the idea of getting the better of Delaney McFarland. Perhaps surprising her at the Dorset ball had whetted his appetite. “You know, Father, you might be on to something.”
    F or the past two mornings, Delaney had received a missive from Montwood, informing her of his regrets. Yesterday it had been a forgotten previous engagement, and today he’d been called out of town for the remainder of the week. Yet even on paper, he exuded charm, stating how much he looked forward to their ride in the park, very soon.
    Delaney did her best not to feel slighted, but her inner flame was still a fragile, flickering little thing. She’d looked forward to an outing with Montwood, though for an entirely different reason than her original purpose. Now, she wanted to ride in the park—preferably in an open barouche—solely to put Griffin Croft in his place. The gall of that man , believing he had the right to dictate her actions! She couldn’t wait to show him what she thought of his opinion.
    Unfortunately, today’s missive kept her spirits low. That was, until she remembered that she was meeting her friends for their needlework circle. Surely an afternoon with her friends was just the thing to lift her spirits.
    The idea made her feel better, and she mounted the servants’ stairs to the attic.
    Tillie, a wholesome-faced young woman with a tidy knot of corn silk hair, opened the door. “Almost done, miss,” Tillie said with a needle clamped between her lips and a scrap of muslin in her grasp.
    Because of Gil McFarland’s temper, a considerable number of Delaney’s personal maids had come and gone in this house. Many of the more timid ones had left their notices at the door and vanished in the middle of the night. Of course, Delaney knew her impossible hair had played a part in that too. After all, no self-respecting lady’s maid would want to take credit for her untamable mess of curls. Which left Tillie, who’d never trained a day as a maid. Actually, she’d worked in the kitchen.
    When Delaney’s previous maid had quit, taking her younger brother—the McFarlands’ former tiger—with her the night before her debut, Delaney had asked the staff if there were any volunteers to fill the vacant position. Tillie had been the only one brave enough to step forward, sealing her fate with “I’ll give it a go.” In her kitchen experience, she’d come up with an olive-oil-and-lavender concoction that had helped tame some of the more fearsome tangles that night.
    To this day, Tillie knew nothing about either hair or fashion. She couldn’t tell sarcenet from paramatta. Even so, her maid’s worth was far above and beyond all those who’d come before her—and all because Delaney didn’t have the patience for needlework.
    Needlework didn’t