A Country Affair (12 page)

He cleared his throat again and said aloud, "And how long would the Payleys have lived in that region?"

"Forever, I should suppose."

"Then there must be record of their marriages in a church near Cuckfield." His voice was growing husky. He could barely think. "A marriage between Anne Trevelyan and Joshua Payley might be found."

Selina's face lit, then clouded over immediately. "Yes, but I cannot leave The Grange to go in search of them. I had hoped the Garter might instigate a search—"

Richard interrupted her with a shake of his head. "No, it will be up to you to produce the relevant documents."

"But I cannot leave! If I do, who will milk Clarissa and feed Nero and keep Caesar out of my garden—"

"Hold on, hold on!" Richard chuckled at her increasing frustration. She was so beautiful in a temper, he might have provoked her on purpose just to see the result, but he preferred to comfort her instead.

And somehow, with that soothing, his hands had slipped down her back and he was holding her within the circle of his arms. Lowering her lashes, she placed her palms upon his chest.

Richard suppressed a groan. He was going to kiss her, unless he could think of something to prevent himself. The brush of her negligee against his breeches was driving him mad.

Wilfrid. Think of Wilfrid, he told himself, rubbing the tops of her arms. Then, once more master of himself, he held her away, trying to ignore the puzzled look his motion aroused.

"I have a cousin," he said, over the desire trapped in his throat. "A cousin who resides in Brighton. I could write to him and ask him to search for such a listing."

His offer temporarily wiped the hint of injury from her expression, leaving a frown in its place. "But will he be willing to undertake such a mission for someone he does not know?"

Richard grinned, for once quite sure of where he stood. Since he paid Wilfrid an allowance, his cousin was at his beck and call. "Yes, never fear. He is in my debt, so to speak. The last time we had words, he assured me of his eagerness to do me any service."

Or perhaps not any service, Richard corrected himself. Nothing would persuade Wilfrid to lead a more disciplined life.

Selina's eyes turned a deeper shade of brown as she searched his face with concern. "Are you quite certain?" A note of hope had entered her voice.

"Quite, quite certain," he told her, raising one finger to wipe away her frown. The brush of her eyebrows against his fingertips aroused him as no other woman's kisses ever had.

Was it the country air that made his desire for her so overwhelming, or was it something more?

Feeling unable to sort out his feelings—not with guilt so prominent among them—he reluctantly let go of her. Before relinquishing her entirely, though, his hands lightly swept the length of her arms.

Richard could tell from the hurt in her eyes that his actions had confused her, but he could not explain himself until he knew his own mind. He wished that he could kick himself, but the laws of physics would make that extremely difficult. He would have to devise a different punishment for himself, but that ought to be easy, since it would be sheer torture to work alongside Selina for the next week—or weeks—without touching her.

"I shall write my cousin in the morning," he said, half turning away. "Then, I shall stay until he reports to make sure there is nothing else I can do."

Her voice shook as she responded, "That would be very kind of you. You've been—"

Richard cut her off with a raised hand. "Please, don't say it. Every moment I've been here has been a pure delight."

He could not regret this admission, for his words did something to erase the hurt in her eyes. A wavering smile touched her lips as she bid him goodnight.

Selina showed Richard out, still smarting from his withdrawal. She had been so sure, so certain, that he was going to kiss her.

Her pulse was still jumping like a kettle aboil, and now it threatened to explode. How, and why, and how dared he stop holding her when he did?

Selina tried to put the whole incident out of her mind, to focus on the assistance he had promised her instead, but her treacherous heart kept returning to the feel of his palms upon her back. His large palms. His warm, pressing palms, which had awakened a fierce longing deep inside her.

How dared he? How dared he brush her brows with his fingers, leaving the hint of a kiss in their wake?

How dared he rub against her like a Tom-cat wishing to be petted, then jerk away as if he meant only to tease?

Selina reached for his cup and saucer intending to slam them in the bucket to wash, only to find that the cup had not been used. She had forgotten to pour his tea.

A wave of mortification swept over her. That had been it. That had certainly been the reason he had changed so suddenly before her eyes.

He had decided that she was not good enough for him to kiss because she had the manners of a peasant. Or worse—she gripped his cup tighter—he had thought that any girl who neglected her guest's comfort while attempting to seduce him in her mother's wrapper was no better than she should be.

A wave of tears threatened. Selina fought them off with an angry pass at her cheek. Richard had misread her. She would never have so forgotten herself as to . . . .

A wish for a kiss did not amount to a seduction, even if she had forgotten his tea.

Leaving the cups and saucers and milk and the brimming pot of tea until morning, she took the stairs to her room, remembering at once her last journey this way.

The sight of Richard carrying a man over his shoulder as if he were a featherweight had made her stomach flutter. She was ashamed to recall her wayward thoughts at that moment, for her brain had sprung to the conclusion that if he could carry a man so easily, he might carry her just as well.

"So would Romeo," she said now, giving each step an angry stomp, "and yet you have never let him put you in such a dither."

No. And she had never wanted Romeo to kiss her or even to hold her hand. Selina admitted that all she felt upon seeing Romeo Fancible was a strong desire to hide, just as she cringed whenever he opened his mouth.

But not so with Richard. Every day he had spent at The Grange had seemed the best of her life. He had hardly spoken before she had cast her heart at his feet. And even now, when he had trod upon it—softly to be sure, but still he had trod—even now she ached to see him tomorrow.

At the thought of facing him, Selina uttered a groan. She reached the head of the stairs and hurried to her bed to burrow under the covers. She still was shivering from the excitement of his touch, the warm look in his eyes, his gaze at her lips as he'd brushed the frown from her forehead.

She had not imagined those things. She felt a leap of hope. How could she have imagined a look she had never seen before?

But, if Richard was attracted to her in the least, why had he suddenly left without saying a word of what was in his heart?

Selina pounded the pillows on her bed, frustrated by her lack of experience. If she had ever lived in town, had ever entertained gentlemen suitors, she would probably be much more capable of judging masculine thoughts. As it was, she had nothing to go on but that certain look Caesar got in his eyes when Clarissa spurred his interest, for certainly Richard would not bellow in pursuit the way Caesar did, giving all away. And she thought she had glimpsed something of that look tonight.

She mused until the nature of her thoughts made her reel in disgust. How could she be so coarse as to compare any gentleman to a bull? What would Richard think of her if he knew? That she was a peasant, and he had been right to hold her off.

"Well, let him think that," she muttered. "Let him think whatever he wants. And if he believes me unworthy of him, I will show him who's unworthy until he cries aloud for mercy!"

But such vengeful thoughts gave her little comfort as she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Richard sought out paper and ink from Mrs. Croft and penned a letter to Wilfrid.

It gave him immense satisfaction to call his cousin to duty, for Wilfrid would not dare to ignore his summons. Richard only wished he could see his cousin's face when he received it.

Since Wilfrid had already been privy to the letter from the Garter, Richard saw no reason to be overly discreet. He certainly had no intention of divulging the circumstances under which he had been living in Uckfield, or his strange reasons for maintaining an alias. Considering, however, the extreme umbrage Wilfrid had taken at the notion that "mere husbandmen" would claim kinship with him, Richard could not stop himself from rubbing a little salt in his cousin's wounds.

He informed him that upon investigation he had learned that some relationship might, in fact, exist between the Payleys and the Trevelyans. Due to factors Richard would not trouble his cousin with, he had taken it upon himself to confirm the evidence. In consideration of Wilfrid's moving testament of his devotion to their family, so recently given, Richard thought it only right to entrust a portion of the task to him.

Richard asked him without delay, saving the Regent's displeasure, to proceed to a small village by the name of Cuckfield off the Brighton Road, and once there, to search the church registries within a reasonable distance—say a radius of no more than twenty miles—for the marriage in question. Richard gave him a probable range of dates, but urged his cousin not to be restrained if he felt a more extensive search was warranted. If either family name was unearthed in a particular church, Wilfrid might think about rummaging in the churchyard for a joint burial spot.

Richard wrote instructions to send all evidence of his discoveries to a Mr. Lint in care of the inn at Uckfield. Then he added this final note: he made no doubt his cousin would reap his due reward for exerting himself in such a worthy cause, just as he would heartily welcome two new members to their small family. He remained his loving servant, Richard, Earl of Linton, etcetera, and so forth. . ..

While scribbling this last, Richard chuckled to himself, knowing how galled Wilfrid would be. To have to leave Brighton with Prinny in residence to go traipsing about the countryside, poking about in ice-cold churches and musty records, and on Richard's behalf, would turn him pale. He could almost hear Wilfrid's complaints, and Richard was sure he would be treated to them at length upon their next encounter.

This vision of Wilfrid, incommoded, made Richard almost forget what he was about. Before he considered his actions fully, he had almost franked his letter. He stopped himself in time, then had to cross through the portion of his signature already formed, for it would not do for the Crofts to be apprised of his identity. Wilfrid would be obliged to pay the postage, which fact could only increase Richard's mirth.

By the time he left for The Grange, riding his own horse to give it some much-needed exercise, he was in a capital humor. Selina would be waiting to hear what he had done, and her gratitude would know no bounds. Richard wondered what form her thanks would take; however, remembering what his restraint had cost him the night before, he was not sure how much longer he could resist her. The prospect of having to take defensive measures was positively delicious.

Expecting, then, upon his arrival, to receive a wide smile of welcome, he was taken aback to find a distinct coolness in her manner. Selina seemed much too busy to give him a penn'orth of her attention. Though civil—almost suspiciously civil—she obviously felt none of the emotions he had expected her to feel. She acknowledged the report on his letter with a regal incline of her head, thanked him with rigid politeness, then proceeded to assign him his day's tasks.

Since these included some backbreaking work, digging up the trunks of dead trees to make room for new ones and splitting branches for firewood, Richard was none too pleased. He had offered to stay in the hope of sparing her a portion of labor, which he admitted he was doing. But he had never in his wildest dreams expected to be submitted to such degrading work as this.

And with
Lucas
for a helpmate. Not Selina. Not even Augustus. But the laziest man it had ever been his pleasure to meet.

Richard could only marvel at Lucas's talents for avoiding work. If a tool was called for, he had to spend an hour honing its edge while Richard did all the ground work. If a stump proved difficult, then Lucas developed an ache or pain to incapacitate him for the length of time it took Richard to extract the stump from the ground.

And all the while, the scapegrace had the nerve to give directions on how the work should be done, considering himself something of an expert in the field. Richard thought he could take the work, and quite readily perform it if Selina were beside him, but, after a few hours of this abuse, he thought he would much rather be sent to perdition.

Her words of the day before came back to haunt him, some nonsense about being her apprentice. The Earl of Linton, an apprentice for goodness sake! What would his ancestors have to say about that? He had not truly taken her words seriously, even though for a moment they had given him pause.

All he had meant to do was hang about until her claim was proven or not. And then . . . .

Yes, that was the rub, and no mistaking it, Richard admitted. And then, pray tell, what?

If the Payleys were proven to be related to him, then he might force his charity upon them. It was his duty as the head of the clan to care for his dependents. And nothing would give him more pleasure than to declare Selina and her brother under his protection. . . if they would have it.

But his reward for his noble intentions—even if Selina remained blithely unaware of them—had been this. Complete and utter relegation to the rank of indentured servant.

Despite his increasing sense of ill-use, Richard was not one to quit, so he stayed at his job until the dinner bell rang. Selina would not even come to inform him of his meal in a civilized manner.

He returned his heavy tools to the barn, not intending to take them up again that day. After a few words with Selina, he expected his regimen to change.