Miss Merton's Last Hope by Heather Boyd Page A

street frontage, taking a moment to glance around him.
    Unfortunately, his gaze caught on Melanie Merton a moment later.
    They had not spoken for a week by his design, but he’d not needed to expend much effort to avoid her. According to Julia, she’d largely kept to the house.
    He hadn’t wanted to see her. He’d been moments away from humiliating himself by suggesting himself as her husband. When she’d revealed the extent of her indifference to men and marriage and children, he’d lost his temper entirely because it made no sense.
    She hurried toward him now though, a determined expression on her pale face. He was surprised to see she was alone, when she’d always been so particular about her maid accompanying her everywhere in the past. He prepared himself to be polite as she drew near. “Miss Merton.”
    “Mr. George.” She glanced about, her gaze lingering on the vicar’s front door. “What an unexpected surprise to see you here.”
    “I am waiting on the vicar to join me.”
    Her shoulders sank and she glanced past him. “I wished to speak to him too.”
    “I expect him at any moment.”
    True to his word, Pease bowled out of the front door and rushed to his side. The vicar flicked his hand from side to side. “I’ve no time to speak to you today.”
    “But I only wanted to enquire about aid for Mrs. Clemens,” she rushed to say before the man could move past her. “She has nowhere to go.”
    A disapproving expression crossed the vicar’s face. “We are seeing to that now. She has been taken care of. Shall we go, Mr. George?”
    The rude snub startled Walter. Melanie might not have the stomach for the ill and injured, but he was touched that she asked after a poor blacksmith’s widow. The family should have been quite beneath her. “We are just seeing her settled into a new abode now.”
    She met his gaze warily. “I am pleased to hear it, especially with winter not far off. Might I ask where she will live?”
    The vicar cleared his throat. “Mr. George, did you not say you were in somewhat of a hurry?”
    “Not so much as to be rude to Miss Merton.” He gave her the directions. “Would you care to accompany us?”
    He expected her to decline.
    “Thank you. I should like to see the place for myself so I might find it later.” She nodded and they walked side by side along the cobblestone streets toward the small home he would offer the widow. It was a relatively new purchase, and the broken windowpanes had been replaced only yesterday. All it should require was a thorough sweeping out before Mrs. Clemens and her brood could move in.
    Vicar Pease filled the silence with talk of business and entertainments, but largely ignored Melanie. Walter, on the other hand, could not. They had argued; or rather, he had finally spoken from his heart about how her behavior had affected him. He felt awkward around her now and foolish. Walter never liked to let resentments linger. She would not change and he should not have expected it. The fact he was disappointed she wouldn’t marry anyone, even him, was entirely his mistake. Unfortunately, with the Vicar nearby, he could not speak of the matter candidly.
    When the small home he’d offered to Mrs. Clemens came into view, he pointed it out to her. “There. I hope it will be large enough.”
    Melanie squinted at it, her eyes assessing. “It seems on the small side.”
    Walter nodded, agreeing with her. “The home had two bedchambers upstairs and none below. For a family of eleven it will be quite a squeeze, but there is nothing else available in Brighton, nothing else offered to the family. It is the best that can be done at short notice.”
    Mr. Pease shook his head, casting another disapproving glance at Melanie. “Of course it will be large enough and Mrs. Clemens will be grateful, as we all should for another’s charity to those in need.”
    Walter couldn’t miss the sharpness of his tone, and fumed. He addressed his reply to the vicar.