Free The Frog Earl by Carola Dunn Page A

stuck her needle in the collar she was setting in a shirt for Ferdie and put it aside. “What does he want?”
    “It's a stranger,” said her brother importantly. “He has a letter. He wouldn't give it to me. It's got to be put into Miss Cooper's very own hands, he said.”
    Harriet hurried out. A strange gentleman, with a letter for her hands alone?
    “He said his name is Simon Hurst,” Jim yelled after her.
    Her breath caught in her throat. Mr. Hurst calling on her, and insisting on seeing her in person—she had not thought he really noticed her last night, though he had sat beside her for nearly half an hour, chatting politely.
    She saw his stocky frame silhouetted in the doorway. Jim had left him standing on the doorstep, but fortunately it had stopped raining. He raised his hat as she approached with quick, light steps.
    “Miss Cooper, I beg your pardon for disturbing you. Miss Lassiter instructed me to place her letter in your very hands, for fear that one of your siblings should neglect to deliver it.”
    He had a nice smile, she decided, taking the note, slightly disappointed that he had not come of his own accord. “Thank you, sir. Will you step in?”
    “I...” His answer was cut short by an angry screech in Sally's voice.
    Prue's childish treble followed. “Ooh, you're going to be in trouble, Jimmy.”
    “Pray excuse me, sir.” Harriet sped back to the parlor.
    Jim had picked up one of Sally's still undarned stockings and, pulling on a loose thread, had unravelled several rows. Harriet promised to knit it up herself, forestalling incipient tears.
    “And as for you, young man,” she addressed the miscreant, “I shan't tell Papa what you did if you clean Sally's shoes for her tonight.”
    “But if you're going to mend it, I ought to clean your shoes.”
    “It was Sally you upset. Now back to the dining room with you or I shall tell Papa you are neglecting your studies.”
    Pulling a face, Jim turned to leave. “Oh, hello, sir. Harry, here's your caller.” He dashed out to rejoin his younger brother at their books.
    “Mr. Hurst!” She felt her face grow hot. What must he think of her squabbling siblings?
    “Forgive me, Miss Cooper. I followed to lend you my aid if necessary, but you managed admirably. As a naval officer, I couldn't have dealt better with quarreling sailors.”
    “You were in the navy, sir? My eldest brother, Ferdie, is a sub-lieutenant.”
    “What is his ship?”
    “He is fourth mate on the Bellerophon.”
    They continued to talk for a few minutes but Harriet was uneasy. She found herself in a quandary. If she asked him to be seated she ought to offer him tea, but the Coopers' one servant would not take kindly to being asked to make it in the middle of her dinner preparations. Harriet could make tea herself, but that would mean abandoning Mr. Hurst to the company of her tongue-tied sisters while she went to the kitchen.
    She was glad when Prue interrupted with a timid request for Harriet to finish off a darn so that it wouldn't come undone.
    “I must be on my way,” said Mr. Hurst promptly. “No, I won't disturb you further, I'll see myself out. Good day, ma'am.” With a nod to the children he went off.
    After quickly tying off Prue's lumpy darn and starting her on another, Harriet opened Mimi's letter.
    “I wish you had come Today,” it began. “Mr. Hurst was Charming!!! He offered to go out of his way to carry this to you,”—knowing Mimi, Harriet was fairly certain that the gentleman had been coerced in some fashion—”so I am certain he was Much Struck by you last night. I shall be at the Mere tomorrow at Nine, and he may come.” At the mere at nine? What on earth was she up to now? “You must walk that way, without Fail!!!”
    Mimi was determined to throw her into Mr. Hurst's arms. Folding the letter and slipping it into her pocket, Harriet made up her mind to do her best not to disappoint her friend. Though she did not find him precisely charming, Mr. Hurst