Consequently, when the colonel did turn his attention to her, she was definitely cold to him. “You’re upset,” he observed, unrepentant.
“I’m ready to go home. If you would please excuse me?”
He didn’t move, and at that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Blair walked up to wish them well. Mrs. Blair pretended to converse with Covey, but Rosalyn noticed that her beady eyes didn’t miss a thing. So, when Colonel Mandland—finally!—stepped out of the pew into the narrow aisle and placed his hand possessively on Rosalyn’s elbow, she had to pull away. She didn’t want to give the gossips any more fodder than they already had.
Colonel Mandland got the hint, and his reaction was stronger than the time she’d slapped him. He understood, and he was offended. She could tell by the sudden tension in his body. The smile on his face became more pronounced and less genuine. He knew she did not want to be in public with him. Not until she’d had a chance to sort out her feelings.
The wall went up between them, and this time, it was made of bricks.
She wanted to say good.
Instead, she slipped by him, waited for Covey, and, taking her friend’s arm, walked out of the sanctuary. She could feel him watching her leave, and she sensed his silent command for her to turn around and come back right that minute.
In the vestibule, Rosalyn stepped aside to let Covey pass first out the door. Only then, a heartbeat before she followed, did she look back to Colonel Mandland.
Their gazes met—and then he turned away.
She went outside.
Covey waited, anxious to keep Rosalyn a moment before mingling with the other parishioners who were visiting and enjoying the lovely weather. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?” Rosalyn said. She smiled at Mrs. Sheffield and Mrs. Blair, who stood perhaps ten feet from them, their heads together in gossip.
“Did you truly mean to cut Colonel Mandland in front of those buddies?” Covey asked.
Rosalyn looked at her. “Colonel Mandland is presumptuous. He makes his own bed.”
“He’d like to make yours,” Covey responded, surprising Rosalyn with her bluntness.
She blinked a moment, a rush of undefined feelings circulating through her at the thought of being in that man’s bed. “He wants the Commons seat,” she reminded herself. “He cares not a whit for me.”
“You can make him care.”
“No,” Rosalyn replied, more to herself than Covey. Knowing she sounded abrupt to her friend, she attempted to explain all the reasons she’d thought of through sleepless nights. “I know there are those who feel every woman should be married, no matter what the cost. But, Covey, my pride is the only legacy my father gave me. I’ll not sacrifice it. I’ll not sell myself to marriage.”
Covey placed a gloved hand on Rosalyn’s arm. “I had thought, especially after yesterday, that you were not adverse to his suit.”
“Do you believe me so shallow as to fall in his arms for no other reason than because he is handsome, charming, and brought me flowers?” Rosalyn shook her head. “My father courted my mother. He did everything for her, and in the end, it meant nothing.”
“You can’t judge marriage from what your parents had. Alfred and I—”
“Alfred and you were the exception, not the rule. My cousins all married well, and there is not one of them who can abide their husbands. I used to listen to my aunts vent their frustrations over the treatment they received from their husbands. Yes, Lord and Lady Loftus seem a good match, but look at the others. Mr. and Mrs. Blair speak civilly only in church. The Lovejoyces are famous for their battles. Covey, the list goes on and on.”
Rosalyn tried to explain herself and the feelings she’d rooted out the night before. “I want more.” There, she’d said it. “I’m not certain what more is. Perhaps this is a legacy from my mother. My father’s title wasn’t enough. It couldn’t keep her by his side. Sometimes I wish I’d met that riding instructor. Perhaps I would understand why she hurt so many people—all in the name of love.”
“Oh, my lady, who knows why we hurt others? But we all do, often unintentionally.”
“I don’t, Covey. I don’t.”
“Then your rudeness to Colonel Mandland a few moments ago was intentional?”
Rosalyn flinched, as if her friend had poked her in the back. There were times Covey knew how to make her point too well. “There is nothing between the colonel and me for which I must apologize. I did what I must.”
Rosalyn didn’t wait for an answer but walked over to say hello to Lady Loftus, who was talking to Mrs. Shellsworth, the lawyer’s wife.
Lavonia Shellsworth was reed thin, with a long neck and a chirpy laugh. As Rosalyn walked up, she was chirping over something Lady Loftus had said.
Her ladyship stretched a hand out to Rosalyn. “Isn’t it a glorious day? Spring is my favorite season of the year.”
“Oh, I do love it too,” Mrs. Shellsworth pronounced, as if Lady Loftus had just solved a mystery of the universe.
Lady Loftus smiled, but the look in her eyes was one of pleasant dislike. She changed the subject. “Lady Rosalyn, I noticed Colonel Mandland by your side during the service.” She raised her eyebrows knowingly. “I’ve heard he’s been paying marked attention to you.”
Before Rosalyn could answer, Mrs. Shellsworth said, “If his attentions toward you are so marked, Lady Rosalyn, then what is he doing over there, keeping company with Belinda Lovejoyce?”
“Belinda Lovejoyce—?” Rosalyn repeated and turned in the direction Mrs. Shellsworth had indicated. She did not recognize the petite, buxom blonde Colonel Mandland was speaking to under the flowering cherry tree at the edge of the parish graveyard along the church walk. The woman stood close to him, too close. She seemed to enjoy peeking up at him through dark, full lashes…and he seemed to enjoy her attention.
With a woman’s power of intuition, Rosalyn knew the blonde and the colonel were not strangers. Jealousy stabbed through her with a force that was staggering.
“Weren’t Colonel Mandland and Belinda Lovejoyce promised to each other at one time?” Mrs. Shellsworth asked.
Lady Loftus hurried to say, “That was years ago. And do you not remember, Mrs. Shellsworth, that Belinda Lovejoyce left the colonel? She married another man. What was his name? Regis? He was from Preston.”
Belinda Lovejoyce Regis had complete command of Colonel Mandland, and she was everything Rosalyn wasn’t, including wealthy. The strand of pearls around her neck may or may not be real, but Rosalyn could tell the dress had come from London.
“She has a husband,” Lady Loftus warned Rosalyn quietly, as if wanting to bolster her spirits. “You need not worry.”
“Oh, did I not mention the news?” Mrs. Shellsworth chimed in happily. “Belinda is a widow. Her husband died last year, and she is just out of mourning. She’s returned home to her parents’ house. I heard from her mother she was most anxious to see Colonel Mandland, and I can understand why. He’s come a long way from the Colin we used to know.”
Rosalyn looked in surprise. Of course Lavonia Shellsworth would have known him. He was one of them. She was the outsider.
Mrs. Shellsworth smiled slyly. “I wonder if Belinda is wishing she’d not been so hasty to marry money. Her husband was twenty years older with a wart on the end of his nose.”
At that moment, Colonel Mandland glanced over and saw Rosalyn and the other two watching them. She was embarrassed, until with a cynical lift of his eyebrow, Colonel Mandland deliberately gave her his back.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Shellsworth said without sympathy. “Did he just cut you, Lady Rosalyn?”
“I must be going now,” Rosalyn said to Lady Loftus. Her knees felt shaky, and she didn’t like how important Colonel Mandland’s presence had become in her life.
“I thought things were going so well,” Lady Loftus worried.
“There is nothing to go well,” Rosalyn answered. “Now, if you will excuse me?” She started off to find Covey.
Covey was a short distance away, talking to some friends. The after-church crowd had thinned considerably.
“Are we ready to go?” she asked as Rosalyn approached.
“Will you be seeing Colonel Mandland this afternoon?” one of Covey’s friends asked Rosalyn with avid curiosity. Oh, yes, everyone in Clitheroe fished for gossip.
“No,” Rosalyn replied firmly, taking Covey’s arm and guiding the older woman to where Old John waited with the pony cart.
“Things are not good?” Covey asked.
What could Rosalyn say? “Things are as they should be.”
It was the right answer.
“Well, I hear Cornwall is pleasant country,” Covey said sadly.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I’m too old to marry.” Or too stubborn, or set in her ways…or too proud.
Covey took a seat in the cart opposite Rosalyn’s, her expression sad and thoughtful. They were well on their way home before she said, “You’re right. It is probably for the best.”
It was for the best, Rosalyn reminded herself. Colonel Mandland was too male, too bold, too aggressive for her tastes.
He was also too busy listening to Belinda Lovejoyce’s prattle to even glance back in Rosalyn’s direction.
She knew because she had looked back.
Out of the corner of his eye, Colin watched the High-and-Mighty-Princess Rosalyn leave, and he was damn angry. She had the ability to make him feel lower than the grit beneath her feet.
And he didn’t know why.
Women liked him. Without vanity, he admitted it was his looks and his ambition. He was a man who had accomplished much and would accomplish more—something she didn’t deem to notice.
The last woman who had made him feel that way was Belinda Lovejoyce, and right now, she appeared to eat him up with a spoon. She was in the market for a new husband, and now Colin met her standards.
There had been a time when he would have done anything for Belinda. Not any more. He wasn’t even the same person as the reckless youth who’d believed the only value any woman possessed was her looks.
He needed more now. Someone who shared his sense of humor. Someone who had intelligence. Someone who understood traits like honesty, bravery, loyalty.
Belinda didn’t have any idea what loyalty meant. She spoke of her deceased husband with derision. More than once she dropped sly hints that he’d been too old to satisfy her in bed. Otherwise, according to her, she would have given him a child and not found herself bullied out of his estate by his children from a previous marriage.
Well, Colin was not going to be her bedmate now. He was not second best. But he smiled and listened to her and, as soon as Lady Rosalyn left, he excused himself from Belinda.
“Are you coming home?” Matt asked as he walked up to Colin.
“I think I might go for a ride. Clear my brain a bit. Soak in the pointed message my brother sent me in his sermon.”
Matt laughed. “At least one person was listening. We’ll see you at dinner at half past three?”
Colin nodded.
“Don’t be late, or Val will take you to task.” Matt set off for the rectory but turned and walked backward to say, “Your singing is improving, Colin. You almost had some of the right notes.”
“Go to the devil,” Colin replied without heat.
Matt laughed and Colin realized it was good to be home.
A half hour later, he had Oscar saddled. He set off on the road to Chatburn. Being Sunday, there was not much traffic, so Colin let Oscar have his lead before jumping a hedgerow and taking off at a full gallop across a farmer’s unplowed field.
As they headed into the forest, Colin pulled Oscar up short when he heard the tiresome sound of howling hounds. Obviously, Loftus had no respect for the Sabbath.
Oscar’s ears pricked up. He had to have heard the dogs, but it did not explain why he suddenly did a prancing dance—until the fox skulked out from a hollow log that served as a bridge across a shallow stream.
Once again, Colin and the fox confronted each other.
“Run, my little friend,” he advised the animal. “They are on their way.”
The fox appeared to release a weary sigh before splashing down the middle of the stream. Colin watched him go and then guided Oscar in the direction of the hounds.
A moment later, he caught sight of the dogs coming up and over a bluff, Lord Loftus and another rider charging after them.
Keen on the scent, the dogs raced past Oscar toward the woods. Colin was fairly certain his friend the fox would make another escape. He waited for Loftus, who reined to a stop when he saw him. The rider was Shellsworth. Colin didn’t like seeing him with Loftus.
“Oh, Mandland!” Loftus’s face was red with exertion. “Did you see the damn fox?”
“I thought I caught a glimpse of one running north across the farmer’s field on the other side of the woods there.”
“Drat! Damn dogs are going the wrong way!”
“I hear your marriage plans are not going well,” Shellsworth said.
“You know women,” Colin answered with a shrug. “They are capricious by nature.”
The lawyer smiled, the expression ugly. “I’m certain you are enough of a lapdog to trip along at her feet anyway—”
“Shellsworth, shut up!” Loftus said. “Mandland will call you out and then I’ll lose a lawyer because the colonel will make mincemeat out of you. There would be nothing left. Not even your boots.” He looked to Colin. “You handle our Lady Rosalyn. You know what I want. I know what you want.”
“Yes, my lord,” Colin answered.
“The fox ran across the farmer’s field?” Loftus asked, bringing his mind back to the more important matter.
“He was heading toward Barley Booth,” Colin said helpfully.
“Good man,” Loftus said. “Come along, Shellsworth. Let’s see if your nag can run.”
“But, my lord,” Shellsworth said. “Look at the dogs. They are milling around the stream and not crossing.”
“Damn fool hounds! Can’t sniff anything,” Loftus declared. “Didn’t you hear Mandland?” He rode off. The hounds and Shellsworth had no choice but to follow him.
Colin watched them disappear from sight. “What do you think, Oscar?” he asked. “Do you think I should dance to Lady Rosalyn’s tune, or should I be the one playing the fiddle?”
Oscar grumbled a response.
“I know. I’d best get home, too, or I’ll be late for dinner, and I have no desire to cross swords with my sister-in-law.”
He didn’t even need to prompt the horse, who happily turned on his own and headed back to the stables.
Colonel Mandland did not call the next day, or the next.
Rosalyn wondered if he was biding his time again the way he had in the beginning. She didn’t think so.
Lady Loftus called on Monday, but she left angry because Rosalyn refused to discuss the matter. After her failed visit, no one called. Rosalyn understood how Valley society worked. She was not falling into Colonel Mandland’s arms as they wished, so she was being given a cold shoulder.
In the end, the decision to leave was taken out of her hands. Her cousin George did send money to travel to Cornwall, although it was less than necessary. Rosalyn would have to supplement it with her meager savings.
When George’s letter and money arrived, Covey became very quiet and distracted.
“You don’t have to leave,” Rosalyn told her. “Certainly, someone in Clitheroe or the Valley would take you in.”
“No, no. My place is with you,” Covey insisted, and Rosalyn was selfish enough not to push the matter.
The next morning, Rosalyn drove the pony cart through town. She saw Colonel Mandland speaking to Mr. Jeffries, the banker, in front of the White Lion public house. The two of them were involved in an earnest discussion. She wondered what scheme the colonel was cook
ing up now. She expected him to ignore her. After all, wasn’t that what he was doing…when he wasn’t pursuing the Beautiful Belinda?
So she was surprised when, as she drove by, he stopped the conversation and nodded to her. She pretended not to notice. She didn’t know why she pretended this, except that it was easier than to acknowledge him.
And was it her imagination, or did she sense him watching her as she drove out of sight? She didn’t have the courage to look back and check. However, halfway home, she stopped the cart. She was still trembling just from that one “almost” close encounter with him.
What in the world was the matter with her? She barely knew the man, and yet he consumed her rational thoughts. Or was she turning into a spinster maid who giggled around men? What would she be like after a few years with Aunt Agatha?
Rosalyn came face-to-face with her deepest fear. She wasn’t pretty enough or clever enough or anything enough for a man like Colonel Mandland. Forget the Commons seat. She wanted to be chosen for herself, and she should know better. The world didn’t work that way. People used people—just like her mother had used her father.
She didn’t want to be either a user or the used.
“So, Aunt Agatha it is,” she told the cart pony. The animal didn’t care. He sighed, a sign he was ready to go home. She picked up the reins and honored his wish.
Drizzle was starting to come down by the time she returned to the house. John met her to unharness the cob. She went in to find Covey. The time for procrastination was past. The sooner they left, the sooner they could move forward with their lives.
But Covey was not in the sitting room or the morning room. Rosalyn went upstairs and knocked on her companion’s door. There was no answer. She opened the door and found the room empty.
Down in the kitchen, she found Bridget helping Cook with dinner. “Have either of you seen Covey?”
“No, my lady,” Cook answered.
Rosalyn went outside. John hadn’t seen her either, and she was nowhere to be found on the immediate grounds. Rosalyn grew worried. This was not like Covey at all—except for the one time she had fallen, grown confused, and wandered off. John reminded Rosalyn of it.
The Seduction of an English Lady Page 8