A Country Affair (13 page)

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 usual, 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.

"Mr. Lint," she began with her hands on her hips.

"Richard—please," he begged her in his most cordial voice.

She stomped one foot. Richard did not think he had ever seen her look more desirable than at that moment. Her rich, brown eyes were flashing like logs aflame, her breast was heaving and filling her bodice, and her cheeks had turned the deep colour of cherry wine.

"I shall never—" she stomped on “never”—"never address you as Richard again. How you could embarrass me so! And in front of Mr. Fancible, too! Why, my reputation will be ruined!"

Richard hid a smile and widened his eyes in a look of total innocence. "Selina, what can you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You implied—" she glanced at the floor—"you know very well what you implied."

"What—" Richard scratched his head, hoping to be at least a bit convincing. "What did I imply?"

She darted an angry glance his way. "You know. That you and I— That we—" With a flurry of her fingers, she gave it up. "I cannot imagine what possessed you to act in that fashion."

"That we . . . ?" Richard hoped to prompt the rest from her, at which point he would be happy to carry through on whatever image had entered her mind.

But Selina was far too embarrassed for that. He had disturbed her far more than he had intended, and his innocent act had done much worse. She was truly angry now and close to tears.

Abandoning his pose, Richard took a step towards her, wishing he could fold her in his arms, but feeling now was not the time. "I am sincerely sorry if I've said something to embarrass you in front of your visitor. If I can make it up to you, I will be happy to oblige."

"I thought Romeo was going to hit you," she surprised him by saying miserably. "Which would have been your fault! But you should not go around provoking men twice your size with no regard for the consequences."

"Twice my size? Surely you exaggerate!" Richard protested. "I mean, the fellow is as big and as clumsy as a barn, but I am not precisely as small as you paint me. I have been known to deck more than one six-foot man."

"And so you would be brawling about my barnyard? And teasing Romeo, who has not done anything to deserve such miserable treatment!"