Harriet had to bite her lip to keep from grinning at the sight as she dipped a curtsy. “Mr. Gower.”

He made a ponderous bow. “Miss Ward.”

Despite Mrs. Maple’s charge, Mr. Gower was not as fat as the Christmas pig. He was, however, of a rather beefy appearance.

“Miss Ward, might I say this is a pleasant surprise. I had thought Mrs. Ward—”

“Mother is rather busy today. I told her I’d come and visit.” Harriet pasted what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face and held out her hand.

Mr. Gower hurried forward to press a rather damp kiss on the back of her fingers. As he did so, a wave of odor rose about him, so thick Harriet would have sworn she could see it had the light been stronger.

She blinked, forcing herself not to react to the rancid smell. What was that? Normally Mr. Gower smelled of tonic and hair treatment. But this odor was more…sheeplike. As if he’d rolled in the barn.

Harriet retrieved her hand and stilled the impulse to wipe it on her skirt. “Mr. Gower, how pleasant to see you. Please take a seat.” She sank into a chair closest to the door, cautiously edging it away from the one nearest to it.

He smiled at her as he took the seat opposite, the odor wafting with him. “I must say that this is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Ward. Usually, you aren’t present when I come to call.”

“I’ve been very busy lately.” She pressed her hand over her nose a moment, her gaze falling on the desolated tea tray and empty scone plate. “I see you’ve already had tea.”

“Indeed I have. Your cook is exceptional.”

“I will tell her you said so. Mr. Gower, to what do we owe the pleasure of this call?”

“I just came from a meeting.” He looked at her in a meaningful way. “At the bank.”

Where else would he have been at a meeting, she wondered with some irritation. “Indeed. How nice for you.”

He waited, apparently expecting her to ask for more information.

Harriet easily withheld the impulse. “Perhaps you came today to see about Stephen’s injured leg. That is quite nice of you, and I—”

Mr. Gower’s smile disappeared. “Your brothers are—” He caught himself, coloring heavily. “I don’t mean to say anything untoward, but I must tell you that your brothers would be the better for Mr. Ward’s presence.”

“We would all be the better for Mr. Ward’s presence. Unfortunately, his death makes that an impossibility,” Harriet said dryly.

“I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to offend you. But your brothers need the steady influence of a man, someone who could deflect their high spirits. But you are right in saying that you could benefit from having a man about as well.” He glanced around the room as if assessing each piece of faded furniture. “It’s such a pity how everything has gone to ruin.”

Harriet bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something very unworthy. The man oozed certainty, and it annoyed her no end. “We all miss my father. He was a wonderful man.”