“Should you not delay your trip?"
“I can't. Have you reconsidered going to the Southwoods'?"
“No. Have you reconsidered taking Henry?"
“No, Miss Easterly-Cummings, I have not. You aren't really alarmed at the prospect, are you?” He watched her profile for a moment, since her gaze was toward the rolling hills.
“Of course not. It is just what he needs.” She returned her eyes to the road. “I feel sure Pen would assist you if ... if you have other matters which will require your attention."
There was a strange note in her voice which drew his attention. Now what could he possibly have said to hurt her? The brown eyes would not meet his, and those provocative lips were ever so slightly turned down. He said softly, “I won't take him if you really don't want me to."
“But I do. I think it's a splendid opportunity for him.” Selina studied the vale as they approached. “Should I be able to see your surprise now?"
“No. We will have to walk beyond the trees. You won't mind, will you?"
“Not at all. Oh, you've made a gate, and had a drive started."
“There were a number of things which we could begin before the actual house construction. I fear I am a trifle impatient.” Handing her the whip and reins, he jumped down to unfasten the new gate. “Drive them through if you will, and I'll close it again."
“Why not just leave it open for our return?"
“You'll see.” He noted that she was as carelessly elegant in handling his pair as she had been in jumping her own fence with Scamp in her arms. As he climbed back in he asked, “Would you like to handle them for a bit?"
“Thank you. They're very fine animals."
The drive was still unfinished, and rough, but Selina had no trouble in guiding the horses through the first section of woods to the clearing. Here Rushton tied them and handed her down, explaining as he did so just where the house would be. “The glass room will be facing due south, over there, with the entry on the east. When Lord John comes Friday he'll start Drew with a list of the material requirements, so that we needn't be unduly delayed over obtaining them. Come, let me walk you through the house."
His enthusiasm for their imaginary tour of inspection was infectious, and Selina smiled up at him. “And the stables? Where will they be?"
“Over there. No, you can't come out through there,” he teased. “That's a wall.” Pretending to guide her properly, he tucked her arm through his and led her out the door in the glass room.
“Have you decided what use you will make of it?"
“The glass room? Well, it depends. I prefer a billiard room, but under some circumstances I would be willing to use it as a breakfast parlor. I had intended a very masculine retreat, you understand.” That was quite enough to tell her, he decided, as he grinned down at her.
To his surprise her face lost its animation and she said in a choked voice, “I see."
“What do you see, Miss Easterly-Cummings?” he asked, mystified.
Ever since he had said the previous day that he had promised to go to London, she had suffered from the most alarming thoughts. Had not Mr. Haslett told her that Rushton had offered for someone—a Miss Longstreet or Longmeadow? Of course Mr. Haslett had thought Rushton had been refused. Selina found that unlikely. Perhaps he had been, but the young lady had changed her mind. More likely, however, that they had arranged to meet during the Season and settle matters between them. Why else would Rushton speak of a promise? If he were going purely for his entertainment, he would not have said he “could not” delay his trip. He would not now be speaking of some unspecified change to his planned “masculine retreat.” Selina brought her unhappy thoughts to an abrupt conclusion to say diffidently, “I see that your use of the room is still flexible."
Dissatisfied with her answer, he yet saw no advantage in pursuing his questioning. The only conclusion he could draw, and he refused to do so, was that she understood that he was contemplating offering for her, and the thought made her unhappy. He was not at all sure that she would accept him if he did offer for her, but there was no particular reason why his doing so should make her unhappy. If she didn't want to marry him, she wouldn't. As Henry had said, she very much followed her own course. Henry. Perhaps she thought he would not be willing to accept Henry along with her. Well, there was nothing he could say now to disabuse her of that idea, if he had not already done so by inviting the lad to go to London with him.
Selina continued to walk through the woods with him past the building site to the fields beyond, lost in agonizing thought. For some time she did not realize that he was speaking until she heard him say, “I thought there was no reason not to put the land to some use. Actually, I got the idea from Lord Benedict."
Suddenly she pulled her hand from his arm and began to walk hastily back toward the woods. “Where the devil are you going?” he called, but she did not answer, merely walking a little faster. Stunned by her precipitate departure, it took him a moment to realize that she had no intention of returning. With long, angry strides he caught up with her as she entered the forest path, and grasped her arm in a tight clasp. “Will you answer me?"
“I am afraid of cows,” she gasped.
“Bulls, Miss Easterly-Cummings. You are afraid of bulls. No one is afraid of cows."
“I am,” she whispered.
“For God's sake, don't be ridiculous. Half the land in Leicestershire must be used for grazing. No one raised here could possibly be afraid of cows."
Selina gave an involuntary shiver. “You needn't believe me, Mr. Rushton. It doesn't really matter. Please take me home."
“Now how in the hell was I supposed to know that you were afraid of cows?” he asked mutinously. “I've never met anyone who was afraid of cows. If you'd said so, I wouldn't have taken you to see them. For God's sake, slow down! They aren't chasing us, you know."
She sneaked a look behind her and forced herself to a more dignified walk. “I realize,” she said stiffly, “that it is an irrational fear. No cow has ever so much as harmed a hair of my head, so far as I can remember. They are, in fact, dear, sweet creatures of a rather placid disposition,” she continued as though reciting a lesson. “I have never been chased by a bull, either. On the other hand, I have never gotten close enough to a bull for him to chase me ... and I do not intend to."
“I haven't even gotten a bull yet,” Rushton protested. “I'm having one sent from Farnside."
“How nice for you,” she mumbled, climbing into his curricle without waiting for his assistance.
Thoroughly disgruntled, Rushton untied his pair and climbed up beside her. “That was my surprise,” he said hollowly. “I thought you would be pleased to see the vale put to some use in addition to the house."
“A commendable project,” she murmured.
“Until a few minutes ago it certainly seemed so. I could have a deer park instead. Are you afraid of deer?"
“No, I'm not afraid of deer, but don't be absurd. What does it matter if you keep cows? I will know better than to stray onto your land in future."
“But ... I want you to feel free to come here, to walk in the vale when you wish."
“That is thoughtful of you, Mr. Rushton, though a bit unrealistic. Once your house is complete, no one will venture on your grounds for a simple country stroll."
“What I can't understand is how you can walk for miles around Shalbrook if you have this fear, Miss Easterly-Cummings. There must be cows everywhere."
“I am always aware of where the cows are on my lands, and Scamp is a wonderful warning system for the occasional mistake."
“Is Scamp afraid of cows, too?” he asked sardonically.
“No, she loves them. She doesn't like horses."
“You brought her home on your horse."
“Yes, and she scratched me severely for it,” Selina grumbled as she pulled back her sleeve to exhibit the almost-healed wound. “I was very foolish not to accept your offer to wait for us."
“Y
ou don't like to accept help, do you, Miss Easterly-Cummings?"
“No, I suppose not."
“You should learn to. The pleasure you get from helping people is no different than they get from helping you. There is no disgrace in it, you know.” As Rushton drew his pair in for the gate, Selina studied her hands intently. “I'm not scolding you, my dear,” he said gently, “just offering another piece of unsolicited advice.” When she still did not look at him, he laid a hand over hers and softly turned her face towards his. “I am not in the habit of interfering in other people's lives, you know. But we are ... friends, are we not?"
Her piquant expression struck him forcibly, and he touched his lips lightly to hers before forcing himself to silently hand her the reins and whip and jump to the ground. Selina watched bemused as he opened the gate and waved her through. When he was once again seated beside her, neither of them spoke, though the very air seemed charged with tension. Brief as it had been, the kiss had unsettled them both. It brought to mind their previous experience, that astonishing timeless adventure which promised nothing, and had yet served its purpose well.
Selina wondered if it had become less significant for a man to kiss a woman; when she was younger, only attached couples did so, and she could remember Maria blushing when she spoke of Franmore kissing her after they had agreed to be married. Or perhaps Mr. Rushton thought their ... friendship allowed of such a liberty. Surely it did not! Penrith was her friend, too, and yet she could not picture him kissing her so, even such a swift, light thing. He might, if he were moved by something, salute her cheek—though he never had. No, she decided indignantly, Mr. Rushton should not have kissed her.
Covertly watching her expressions, Rushton knew when she arrived at this conclusion. “It's too late to slap me, Miss Easterly-Cummings, so I hope you will forgive me,” he said gravely, though his eyes belied any real seriousness.
“You think because I allowed you to kiss me that day I was upset ... I shouldn't have, I suppose, if it gave you the idea I was ... I'm not like that, Mr. Rushton. You are too accustomed to the morals of London Society, I fear. In the country a more proper atmosphere reigns, I assure you.” Selina twisted her hands agitatedly in her lap. “No, it is my fault. I gave you a mistaken impression and my actions will of course mean more than my words. I think perhaps I should not see you alone again."
“Don't be ridiculous,” Rushton snapped, annoyed more with himself than her. “I am entirely to blame, and I promise you I have not received the wrong impression of your moral rectitude, Miss Easterly-Cummings. I won't attempt to kiss you again without your permission."
“There, you see? You suffer from the illusion that I would give you my permission. I won't! No more than I would give Frank...” A mortified blush splashed across her cheeks, and she longed to disappear from the moving carriage.
Although he strongly wished to know the conclusion of her unfinished sentence, Rushton guided his pair through the Shalbrook gates without a word. He drove around to the stables so that he could leave the curricle and walk Miss Easterly-Cummings to the house. Her color remained high, but she graciously took his arm and attempted, in a rather choked voice, to discuss matters of no importance. The walk up the terraces seemed endless to her but all too short to him. Rushton knew she would not invite him in.
“Won't you come to London to visit the Southwoods?” he asked in the middle of her comment on the daffodils poking up through the earth.
“Why, no, I can't do that."
“Lady Southwood won't notice one more person in the house, you know."
“They would try to entertain me, knowing that I have not been there before. And ... and I have not the proper clothes for London,” she admitted. “There isn't time to amass a suitable wardrobe, even for a short stay, and if there were time, what use would it be to me later?"
“The modiste in Leicester..."
Selina shook her head. “If there is one thing you might try to accomplish with Henry while you have him, Mr. Rushton, it is not to let his tongue wander off with him. He is far too frank, which is only to say he has no sense of discretion as yet. I would be infinitely grateful to you should you manage to instill a certain amount of reserve in him."
“I encourage him to talk about you."
Her eyes widened. “Whatever for?"
“You are more reserved than your cousin, Miss Easterly-Cummings. If it were left to you, I'd know nothing about you at all—except your problems in raising Henry."
“There is little to know about me."
“Patently untrue,” he retorted, his mind locked on Lord Benedict and Geoffrey Haslett. Surely Benedict's name was Frank ... They stood before the door, and it was obvious that she intended for him to use the knocker, as she glanced toward it twice, but he could not allow their interview to end without assuring himself that it would not be their last. “May I call to take you riding on Saturday?"
Selina hesitated, her eyes searching his face. His regard was kindly, even affectionate. How could she refuse him when she might not have the opportunity of spending time again with him after his trip to London? What if he brought that Longstreet (or whatever) lady back to see the progress of his hunting-box? Yet how could she accept, when she had said they should not be alone together again? But he had promised not to kiss her, without her permission. And she had told him she would not give it. Was his intent perhaps to soothe over any misunderstanding between them? “I ... yes, that would be fine, Mr. Rushton."
“Shall I have a good meal first?” he asked quizzingly.
“If you would."
“Certainly.” He finally raised the knocker and tapped it firmly. “I shall call early, about ten, if that is satisfactory. Then I can have a session with Henry afterwards."
“He'll be pleased.” The door opened and she smiled hesitantly before entering. “You don't have to eat a lot if you're not accustomed to do so in the mornings. That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"
Not knowing what the purpose was, he shook his head wonderingly as she slipped through the door.
Chapter 20
Saturday morning arrived with a downpour of rain. Even half awake Rushton could hear the constant lashing of the drops against the window panes and he rose swiftly to draw back the garish purple draperies and survey the wet, gray world outside. He should, of course, send a message excusing himself, but he did not wish to miss the opportunity of seeing Miss Easterly-Cummings when it was but a few days before his proposed departure for London. The weather showed no sign of clearing; it would be impossible to ride with her. He could give Henry the promised boxing lesson. Purposefully he tugged off his nightshirt and began to dress himself.
The hood of the curricle provided little protection against the driving rain, and a mile out of Barton he regretted his decision. His driving coat was soaked through, his pair skittish on the slippery surface of the road and his temper none too placid from either circumstance. What would she think of his coming out on such a day? Surely it was as good as a declaration, and he was not prepared to offer for her as yet.
What was it Cathford had said in his reply?
How surprising you should remember my comments on Miss E-C! She is indeed the young lady to whom I referred, but that is years ago. I was so struck by her looks, her courage and her personality that I half fell in love with her myself There was some talk of an attachment, to a soldier off in the Peninsula, but I would still have made a push for her had I thought myself equal to her spirits. A glorious girl, but you know me, Gareth—too reserved by half for such a one! She would need a sturdier hand on the reins than I possess. And I thought of you. What a pair you would make! Don't you like her? Sally has agreed to marry me in June.
A glorious girl, yes, but so alien to his way of life. She had not fallen in with his plan for her to appear on the London scene so that he could judge her ability to assume the role he was contemplating for her. Not that it was a test—surely he was not so presumptuous as to require of her that she p
rove acceptable to the ton! As the curricle slid dangerously close to a ditch at the side of the road, he gathered his wandering wits to steady his pair. Would he go through life perpetually distracted by her, he wondered dismally as the carriage regained the solid surface. And, yes, it was a test, his wanting her to go to London! If she could not enjoy the life there, then it was senseless to marry her, even if she was the most enchanting woman he had ever met. Perhaps she had seen the trap, and that was why she refused to go. Certainly her excuses were feeble enough. The Southwoods’ hospitality was well known, and preparation for even so great an event as Cassandra's come-out ball was not likely to dim their reception of an old family friend. And from the example she had shown him of the Leicester modiste's expertise, there would have been no trouble in clothing her adequately in the time allotted.
A crack of lightning startled his pair no less than he himself. They bolted down the road, careening past the Shalbrook gates at just the moment he had started to rein them through. The subsequent confusion taxed his driving ability too far for his present state of mind. For a moment he thought mournfully that his distraction was going to cost him his life, as the light vehicle swung crazily against the bank with a consequent rending crack as the splinter bar gave way. Only with the deftness of long experience was he able to control the panic-stricken horses and bring them to a halt without further damage to themselves or the curricle, which hung from the cracked splinter bar like a broken toy.
Castigating himself for his carelessness, he leaped down from the carriage and went to his horses’ heads, his calm voice reassuring, and his hands searching their legs for any sign of damage. Relieved to find none, he expertly released them from the harness and began to lead them toward Shalbrook. His arrival at the stables caused a certain amount of concern, and Morris insisted he go straight into the house. “For you're wet to the skin, sir, and the lads and me can look after your beasts. No harm done, so far as I can see. No, no, we'll see to the curricle when the rain lets up a bit. Fancy your coming out on a day like this,” he said with a disapproving shake of his head.
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