Free The Groom Says Yes by Cathy Maxwell

Enright, closed her bedroom door, and returned to her lonely watch, perched on the upholstered chair nearest the front door in the sitting room.
    And there, as the first birds began chirping it was morning, she fell into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
    S abrina woke to realize her head was tilted back and her mouth open. Her throat hurt from dryness. She sat up abruptly and realized she had fallen asleep in the sitting-room chair.
    The morning was almost gone. Hazy sunlight streamed through the windows. She wondered why Mrs. Patton had not woken her, then remembered the cook would not be in today. Rolf was watching, his tail wagging. He looked hungry.
    She rose from the chair and went upstairs. The door to her father’s room was still ajar. He’d not returned.
    Mr. Enright was better, his breathing easier, but he slept as if exhausted. In the morning light, his huge body appeared odd in her very feminine room, with its soft hues of greens, blues, and snowy white muslin.
    He also looked entirely peaceful while she felt cranky over her father’s disappearance and achy from a night spent in a chair. Even her eyes felt gritty—
    Rolf barked, a reminder that he still hadn’t been fed. Dumpling must be impatient for his breakfast as well.
    Sabrina combed her hair back with her hands and tied it in a knot at the nape of her neck. “One moment, Rolf. Let me polish my teeth and wash my face, and I’ll see to you.”
    She pulled her serviceable brown day dress from its hook in the wardrobe and went to the guest room to change. About fifteen minutes later, she headed down the stairs, feeling almost presentable. Rolf padded ahead of her, anxious for his breakfast. She needed to feed Rolf, move the cart from the back door, then see to Dumpling.
    Then she would consider the matter of having a complete stranger in her bed and no relative to provide a proper chaperone.
    Or did that matter anymore?
    After all, they called her the Spinster Davidson because they assumed she would never marry, and she probably wouldn’t. Mr. Enright was a patient. Nothing more; nothing less. It had been years since she’d needed a chaperone.
    And if her father was too busy cavorting with the Widow Bossley to worry about appearances, well, she had to do what she had to do.
    Indeed, just let him say something. Any contriteness Sabrina had felt over their argument yesterday was now gone. It was rude of her father to leave without a word, and so she would tell him—
    A knock on the front door interrupted her dark thoughts.
    Sabrina frowned. She was not expecting a guest.
    She crossed to a front window and looked out.
    Dame Agatha stood on her front step. She was dressed for calling in a dove gray dress, gloves, and hat. Even the feather in the hat was gray. Her driver walked the horses on the road in front of the house.
    The dame had never condescended to pay a call on the Davidson household, and Sabrina was not going to let her cool her heels on the front step. She opened the door.
    Dame Agatha had been gazing across the lawn in the direction of the bridge. She now turned and smiled, the expression slightly acerbic, like her personality. “Good morning, Miss Davidson. I hope it is not too early to call.” She didn’t wait for a response but walked right through the door and into the sitting room, pausing in the front hall long enough to notice Rolf and comment, “A dog? I don’t let dogs in my house.”
    “Some people do, some don’t,” Sabrina responded, and shooed the hungry Rolf out the front door. She followed Dame Agatha. “I am so happy for your visit. May I offer you refreshment? Mrs. Patton is not here today, but I’m certain there are scones in the pantry and sweet butter, and I can put on water to boil. Or would you prefer sherry—?”
    “This early in the day?” the dame asked, interrupting her. “Please, Miss Davidson, my constitution would not allow it.”
    “Of course, how silly of me—”
    “And this is not a social