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.
He found her in the kitchen, calmly stirring a pot over the fire, as if she had been standing by it all day. He had hardly seen her that morning, save when she had greeted him and assigned him his chores. He had thought then that she looked somehow different, but her cool welcome had wiped such considerations from his mind. Now, he noticed this again and searched for the cause.
The only difference he could see was that she had worn the yellow ribbons in her hair again. Whether these were what gave it its incredible luster or some additional brushing, he could not know. Before he could ponder her reason for wearing them, she turned with a surprised look on her face, as if she had not expected him for dinner.
“Oh, Richard. Of course, how silly of me. I shall set another place."
Richard's vanity took the blow with little grace. “You did not think I would be hungry after digging up ancient stumps? Or was it that you would prefer me to dine with Lucas?"
His sarcasm missed her. Instead of flushing as he had expected, she paused on her way to the table and touched her chin as if in thought. “No,” she said after a surprising degree of contemplation. “I think you should eat with us. If you sit with Lucas, you might get lice."
Richard started. An itch he had not noticed before nestled between his shoulder blades. Anxious, he surreptitiously arched his back, trying to scrape his bones together.
Selina threw him a glance and quickly hid her face. Richard stopped his movements, a vague suspicion entering his head.
“How kind of you,” he said rather heavily, “to think of my welfare. But I would hate to intrude, if you had rather not invite me in."
“Oh, no.” Selina's tone was quite airy. “You are perfectly welcome to dine with Augustus and me. I daresay, we shall hardly notice you."
Hardly notice me? Richard grumbled to himself, when last night you nearly melted in my arms
?
For Selina had almost melted. That was what had made it so hard for him to push her away, that look of willing surrender he had seen in her deep brown eyes.
But if that were true, his confused and weary mind wondered, why was she so indifferent today?
Or rather not indifferent. Why was she so set upon torturing him?
While Richard had been thinking these thoughts, he had unconsciously begun to rub the muscles in his upper arms.
“Richard, is anything the matter?” Selina's tone was far more solicitous now.
It made him smile. He would appreciate a little sympathy at this moment. “Well,” he said, quite temperately he thought, “that was rather rigorous work you gave me this morning."
“Really?” Instead of contrition, all she seemed to feel was a detached interest. “I had not thought it so. But then—” she sighed quite audibly—"I have seen Romeo Fancible digging stumps an hundred times. And Romeo makes everything look so easy."
She paused in her stirring to stare into the distance. “I suppose Romeo is much stronger than the average man. Quite strong, in fact. I am sure you must have noticed his size. He is quite extraordinary."
As extraordinary as an ox in doublet and hose, Richard muttered to himself before he finally saw what she was about.
The witch! The graceless imp was trying to make him jealous!
More sure of himself now, he only smiled and agreed with his teeth barely clenched, but Selina refused to let him garner any satisfaction.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, brushing past him to set his place at the table, “you would rather be set to a different chore?"
“I would not object,” Richard said, momentarily distracted by a whiff of her perfume, which again seemed different today. What was it? Something warm and wonderfully enticing.
“I suppose you could cull seeds,” she said in a doubtful voice. Her back was towards him as she bent to place his silver. Her skirt swayed back and forth in front of him, focusing his eyes. “I usually do that chore myself because it is so easy—it only consists of opening the fruit and scraping out the seeds, you know—it requires no strength at all. Anyway, I hate to waste Lucas's time with it. But if you think you cannot go on digging stumps—"
“No.” Richard clamped his jaw down tightly. “I shall go on digging stumps."
“You are quite certain?” She turned and looked at him with pity. “You are sure you have not had enough?"
He squared his shoulders, then had to ignore the pain between them. “Quite sure. I can think of nothing I had rather do."
Selina's lips twisted into a smile. She looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.
“Thank you so much, Richard,” she said in a silky voice.
The next day, Richard fared no better. Neither the next nor the next. By the end of the week, he was cursing himself for a fool.
The only improvement in his days was that his painful muscles at last grew accustomed to so much use and stopped tormenting him with every motion. Before reaching this point, he had laid down his tools many times with the intention of putting an end to his masquerade and leaving the Payleys to their own devices. But each time, some incident had occurred to put him off.
Whether, after searching for Selina, he found her doing some chore nearly as difficult as the one he had been doing, or whether she managed to refer to Romeo in just that voice to raise the hair on the back of his neck, something always made him return to his work.
From time to time, when Augustus was not occupied with his morning lessons with the vicar, he alleviated Richard's boredom by coming to work beside him. But this could not make up for the frustration Richard felt every time he spied Selina in the distance, looking more beautiful each day. It could not keep him from thinking about her when he ought to have been turning earth, or remembering the sweetness of her scent the last time he had come within sniffing distance. Or from wondering just what it would feel like to hold her, and regretting the noble impulse that had stopped him from doing just that.
For it was one thing to think nobly about helping the girl with no reward and quite another to withstand the temptation of her every day.
A temptation Romeo had better resist, Richard vowed, if he wanted to live to see a riper age.
Romeo had started visiting Selina every morning, if in fact that had not been his practice before. It seemed the sheep Selina used to graze her orchards and manure them were Romeo's sheep. That fact, and his kinship with Nero, were more than sufficient reason for his calls, for the sheep could not flourish on orchard grass alone. They had to be fed as well, which meant they regularly had to be brought and retrieved.
Richard suspected a servant with a dog could easily have done the fetching, yet Romeo persisted in coming for them himself. He never came without seeking out Selina, nor did he choose a time when Augustus was about.
Richard was surprised that Selina put up with such a transparent strategy, and was dismayed to see the strategy working. As busy as she was, particularly when Richard had need of her attention, she could always spare a few minutes for Romeo.
Like today, when she actually put down her gloves to go join him at Nero's pen. Busy in the sprigling orchard, Richard decided it was time to take a rest from his labors. Telling Lucas to be sure not to disappear while he was gone, he laid down his shovel and strode casually to the pig pen.
Romeo was leaning upon the fence, one enormous boot resting upon the bottom board, a long stick gripped in his massive fist with which he was scratching Nero behind the ears. Selina had leaned her elbows on the top rung, so Richard could admire the way her shawl stretched tightly above her waist.
As Richard approached them, he saw Selina give Romeo a flashing smile, which was bright enough to make the big oaf blush.
“Visiting your friend?” Richard said to Romeo, meaning the pig.
Such ambiguity was lost upon Mr. Fancible. “Checking on pig,” he muttered self-consciously.
“Just as I thought.” Richard nodded amiably. “Your devotion is admirable. I should think the pigs on your own farm must be quite as happy as larks if this represents the attention you give them."
With that he did manage to hit his mark, for Romeo flushed as if he had been caught in some illicit act.
Selina, who, to all appearances, had been ignoring Richard, smiled quite fondly at Romeo and swayed towards him.
Richard found that his fists had clenched. His reaction surprised him for he was not used to having a temper, certainly not where a lady's attentions were involved. He had watched his own mistresses flirt with any number of men and remained entirely unmoved.
Thinking perhaps that that was the difference—Selina was not his paramour and not likely to be, no matter how stunning she was—he calmed himself with a deep breath. Finding that did not help very much, he worried that perhaps doing such physical labor might be turning him into an oaf as well. He had certainly lost all sense of what was due his dignity as a peer, and only hoped the difference between himself and Romeo Fancible were still as evident as before.
But Selina, it seemed, did not welcome his interruption. Reluctantly, she turned from her swain to address Richard. “Was there something you were needing, Mr. Lint?"
She called him that, he knew, for Romeo's sake. Yet, it still made him wince.
“Yes, I was wondering what delights you had planned for me for the rest of the day?” He paused. “Or for the evening?"
Richard knew he ought not to have said this last, but he had not missed the start in Romeo's eyes at his use of the word delights, and he had not been able to prevent himself. His softer, more insinuating tone on the last part had been, he could almost swear, by pure chance alone.
But he was delighted now to see the words’ effect upon Selina. She had turned a most becoming hue.
“I—will think of something else for today,” she stammered, bringing her hands together. “But as for after dinner—"
She was going to say he would be dismissed as u
sual, but Richard would not let her say that in front of Romeo Fancible.
“After dinner ... what?” He spoke in a warmer voice and leaned to rest a hand on the post behind her, pinning her between him and the fence.
Her eyes widened in shock. But there was something—not at all like horror—behind them as well. Her breaths came in soft little gasps.
“After dinner....” she licked her lips in response to his stare.
“Yes... ?” he prompted, leaning nearer.
Out the corner of his eye, Richard saw that Romeo's fist had curled into the shape and size of a rump roast. He felt a curious desire to fight him and surprisingly not the least sense of fear. His loins firmed as Romeo took a step closer.
The sudden movement to her right awoke Selina, who darted one look in Romeo's direction, before stepping quickly between them. She snapped out, “I cannot conceive of what you mean, Mr. Lint, when we never have set you to work after dark and you will very likely be in bed."
Her back was turned to Romeo. Richard could not resist one last probe. “Shall I?” he uttered so softly that no one but Selina could hear.
She gave another gasp. Her lips stayed parted and Richard traced them with his eyes. Her tongue ventured out to wet those lips again, and he was forced to clear his throat.
His limbs were humming. His pulse was roaring in his ears. This sparring with Selina had bolstered him a thousand fold.
“Ur.... Mistress Payley."
With a start, Selina seemed to remember the man behind her. She spun with a toss of her hair and took Romeo by the arm.
“I shall walk you to your horse, Mr. Fancible, and we can discuss this season's crops on the way."
This conversational gambit nearly made Richard laugh aloud even though he had not missed her snub. He knew he had angered her, but he had affected her as well.
Greatly satisfied, he took himself back to the pasture and finished his job before returning his tools to the barn. He was putting them up when Selina stormed in.
A Country Affair Page 10