A Country Affair (7 page)

Just as Richard had this last thought, the sound of cartwheels came up the drive. He turned with Selina.

"Lucas!" The relief in her voice was palpable, though she tried to hide it. In an aside marked by an assumed confidence, she said, "You see, Mr. Lint, I told you he would be back at any moment. If you will excuse me, however, I should go see just how he fared."

Richard agreed with a bow of the head, but instead of staying where he was, followed her out of the orchard. He wanted to see for himself just who this Lucas was.

The object of his gaze was rather slovenly in appearance. Lucas's hair, turning gray, must have been left as it had been slept upon, for no cap could have produced such disarray. His face was grizzled, with a few-days-old whiskers growing unevenly on his upper lip and jaw. Slow to get down from his cart, he shuffled none too sprightly across the yard.

Selina asked him whether his business had been completed, then repeated the question when he seemed reluctant to hand over his purse. Lucas's eyes followed the money longingly, as if he had hoped against hope that she would forget to ask for it. Selina opened the purse right away, appeared to make a quick count, then handed Lucas back some coins which he quickly retrieved and stuffed into the pocket of his vest.

Despite some signs of aging, Richard perceived that much of the man's slowness was nothing more than an act. His deafness was certainly assumed, for it turned remarkably around the moment Selina inquired whether he had breakfasted or not.

"Not so's you'd notice," he mumbled pitifully, doffing his cap and wiping his nose upon his sleeve.

"Then you will want to help yourself to the bacon I've saved for you. It's wrapped by the fire, along with a piece of bread."

"Thank 'ee, Mistress Payley."

His use of her name recalled Richard's business to him, just as the older man turned in search of his food. His step was far more lively, until he remembered to shuffle.

"Something of a character, your Lucas," Richard said after him, hoping to draw Selina out.

She only smiled, a smile of distinct intelligence. "He is. Lucas would have me think he is much too decrepit for farm work, but I've noticed how well he accomplishes the things he wishes to do. On his nights off, he has no trouble harnessing the horse to the cart to go to Mr. Croft's."

She said this with a deep chuckle, and Richard wished he could laugh along with her, but he was much too annoyed by the reality. A girl and her brother, who was no more than a boy, managing this place with no able-bodied man about? To all appearances, Lucas was next to useless. For appearances, he might serve some simple purpose, but surely for nothing else.

Without more help, The Grange and the two young people who occupied it were doomed to a slow and painful ruin.

Richard had scarcely come to this distressing conclusion when the sound of another arrival caught his ear. Selina, too, had heard the horse's hooves. She raised her head, and before she could hide it, a flash of comical pain crossed her features.

Richard looked to see who had earned her disgust and was surprised to find a young Adonis approaching on a steed of the drafting variety. The picture they made was quite impressive: a young man, strong as an ox by the look of him and handsome in a florid sort of way, perched upon a horse that could easily have carried two knights in full armor.

Turning back to see if he had mistaken the tenor of Selina's welcome, Richard found the annoyed look gone. In its place was a patient smile.

"Good day t' you, Mistress Payley." The youth tipped his hat, which, though not of the first elegance, showed the possession of some fortune. He had the air of a wealthy farmer, not that of a gentleman. "Got a visitor, have you?"

Noting the name the man had used to address her—Payley again, and not Trevelyan—Richard made his bow while Selina performed her introductions.

Mr. Fancible, it appeared, was heir to the neighboring farm, which explained Selina's casual way of greeting him. It was clear that the two had been acquainted since childhood, for Selina did not stand on any ceremony, but told him in no uncertain terms that she was occupied.

This did not stop Mr. Fancible from dismounting from his horse. And, when he did, Richard experienced something that struck him in a most unpleasant way. At over six feet, he had always been taller than most of his acquaintance. He had become accustomed to the gentle feeling of superiority his height afforded him.

But this young man loomed over him. So much so that Richard would have considered Mr. Fancible grossly misshapen, had his proportions not been so perfect. As it was, Richard could only stand in awe of the pair of shoulders that dwarfed his own not-inconsiderable pair. Mr. Fancible's wrists, which showed at the bottom of his cuffs, could each make two of most of the men's in London. Richard wondered just what the young man's mother had eaten to produce such a healthy specimen, one who reeked so strongly of masculinity as to make his own hackles rise.

"Won't be no bother," Mr. Fancible said, ignoring Selina's broad hint. "Just come to see how pig of yours is getting on."

"Nero is perfectly fine," Selina told him, forgetting somehow to mention the adventure of the morning. "You needn't worry about him so."

A touch of exasperation tinged her voice. Richard wondered whether this was a ruse Mr. Fancible had used before to give himself a reason for coming by. If so, it was a very feeble one.

"Has Nero been ill?" Richard inquired politely. "Is that the reason for your call?"

"Eh?" Mr. Fancible turned towards him. Richard could see that the conversation had moved much too swiftly for his stunted brain.

Selina answered in his stead, while a flush she could not hide struggled up her neck. "No, he has not been ill, but Mr. Fancible was kind enough to sell Nero to me. And he has been worried about the condition of that pen."

Richard had no sooner nodded to indicate his understanding than Mr. Fancible said with the air of someone who had repeated himself a hundred times, "Time for you to let me fix that fence."

Selina crossed her arms. "I told you that Lucas would soon get to it, and in fact, the fence has been repaired just this morning. So you can see that there is no reason for you to be concerned."  Her tone, when giving this speech was so firm, only a simpleton could ignore it.

Richard did not miss the fact that she had made it sound as if Lucas, not he, had done the job. Did she fear the young man's jealousy? Or was she truly so intent upon selling him trees that she had no time to waste with explanations?

In any event, her tone had no effect upon Mr. Fancible's sensibilities, for he ignored it entirely. "Fixed it, did he? Well, let's have a look."

With a swinging movement, much like an elephant on parade, Richard imagined, Mr. Fancible lumbered towards the barn.

Selina had had enough. Starting after him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, she called out, "Romeo! I will not be accompanying you. Mr. Lint and I are conducting business."

Romeo? At hearing his name, Richard suppressed a grin. The lad had certainly been well tagged. Many a Juliet would swoon over a man of his size and physique, not to mention his dark, curly hair and his well-featured countenance.

Richard looked for signs of swooning in Selina and was rewarded by seeing none. He had hoped she would have better taste than to fall for this bumpkin. For it should not take anyone long to see that Romeo's virtues, though perhaps more than skin deep, certainly did not reach as far as his brain.

The truth was, handsome or no, the man was an oaf and a bore.

Selina turned back at that moment and must have noticed the amusement lurking in Richard's eyes, for she raised her chin in the air.

"Mr. Fancible has known us all our lives and takes a kindly interest in our affairs. It is not at all unlike him to offer his services."

"Services you had rather not accept?" Richard asked falling into step beside her as she marched back towards the trees. "I can see why you would rather not be obligated to such a clod. Would you like me to send him about his business?"

He had spoken without thinking.

He soon discovered his remarks had crossed the bounds when Selina whirled on him, her eyes flashing with indignation. "No, thank you, Mr. Lint. For you see, I shall quite likely marry that clod one day!"

Chapter Five

"Marry? Him?" The shock of incredulity hit Richard in the chest. The strength of his reaction embarrassed and amazed him, even as he spoke.

He could see that he had startled Selina, too. She recoiled, with her eyes opened wide, and seemed to skip a breath.

"Yes," she said, recovering enough to toss her head. "And, pray, why does that notion astound you?"

"Because—my dear girl, you have more breeding in your little finger than that farmer has in his entire enormous body."

She flushed, and her lips gave a rueful twist. He was not sure whether his compliment had pleased or dismayed her.

But he was wrong to be saying such things to a lady he hardly knew. Wrong to be taking a position on a personal matter which did not regard him at all.

"You must pardon me," he offered, with an awkward bow, "if my ill-considered remarks have offended you. They were not made with any intention to wound—with any intention at all, in fact. I was simply surprised . . . ." He let his words trail away, feeling inadequate to explain his violent reaction, though the notion of such a
mesalliance
still rankled him extremely.

An oaf like that, making off with such a magnificent creature? The thought was inconceivable!

Selina accepted his apology with a slight nod and continued their walk back to the orchard. From time to time along the way, she cast him a sideways glance from beneath her long, dark lashes.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable—almost
de trop
—Richard thought the time had finally come to disclose his true business at The Grange before his strange interest in the Payleys could become any deeper. It would be the height of absurdity for him to embroil himself in their affairs.

He could not deny his desire to do so. It was growing stronger with every bit of evidence that showed him how poorly suited they were to fend for themselves. A stunning girl, who ought by all rights to be gracing the finest drawing rooms, consorting with pigs and suchlike? With no more help than a boy? Why, the whole situation was preposterous!

Richard convinced himself, it was the gross injustice of it all that had captured his concern, when he knew he had no right to give into these feelings. What could he give the Payleys, after all, except a few instances of meagre assistance? He could offer them charity, but he doubted very much that Selina would accept it.

Before he could grapple with this question any further, Selina spoke in a hesitant voice. "You must not berate yourself for speaking so plainly. I had no right to speak of Mr. Fancible as I did—"

"Not at all—"

"It is just that we have known each other from birth. And although my father would have disapproved the match—thinking the connection—" she stumbled—"not quite eligible for his family, perhaps—I cannot afford to be so nice."

She kept her gaze straight in front of her, her arms crossed as she walked. Though she took a deep breath, she did not slow her pace. "The truth is, Mr. Lint, that I will not be able to farm this place alone, once Augustus is gone."

From the stiffness in her carriage, Richard could tell how much the admission had cost her, as well as the degree to which such a prospect distressed her.

He muttered his acknowledgment, all the while protesting vehemently inside. Unable to contain his impatience entirely, he finally said, "I meant no disparagement of Mr. Fancible. I am sure he is a respectable man of many virtues. It was—forgive me—simply the disparity in class that caught me off guard. Are there no more eligible gentlemen in the vicinity?"

He should have foreseen her answer, and to do her credit, it was uttered with a laugh. "If there are, sir, they do not spend their time in farmyards. Nor have I had occasion to move about in the first circles. Our means are much too constricted for that."

"But surely—I mean, there must be fellows about the county. Gentlemen who take an interest in their estates, as I do?"

Selina's lips quivered with amusement. "And who do not mind being towered over by a lady? You do them much too much credit, sir."

Richard's stomach clenched at the implied criticism of her own attractions, no matter how lightly said. He hoped Selina had some inkling of how plentiful they were. Richard recalled his feeling the first time he had seen her—almost as if he had been kicked in the chest.

"Any man with two eyes in his head would only have to glance at you once to be besotted," he said, much more fervently than he'd intended.

A sudden in-drawn breath seemed to render her speechless. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth and a dimple peeked from one rounded cheek, before she suppressed them both and turned away.

Richard found himself looking with pleasure on the warm tone of her skin and the modest fall of her lashes.  He was used to beautiful women. London was full of them—though not in Selina's hearty style. It must be the natural quality of her beauty that he found so exceptional, he decided.

But his gaze lingered too long for his own good. Something stirred within him, and he had to cough while he forcibly turned his thoughts to cherry trees.

The clop of a horse's hooves saved him from a moment rife with difficulties. Mr. Fancible caught up with them on the back of his steed.

He tipped his hat again to Richard, then leaned down to speak to Selina. "That's a poor job Lucas did. Pig'll have that board down again in a wink."

Though unintentional, his criticism caused Richard to bristle.

For goodness sake! he muttered to himself. Just let this Romeo fellow try mending a pen with no sound boards around!

Selina had squirmed guiltily at Romeo's inadvertent insult. Now, she glanced at Richard's face and seemed to find something in his expression to amuse her.