She shook her head. "Cruel is not a word I'd associate with you."
"You can't know that, Sarah. I did fight in the war, after all," he pointed out with a sigh.
"But so did my brother and his friends, and none of them are cruel," Sarah said in her most reassuring tone. "They act on their principles, even if they're not always convenient."
"I see."
She took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "I shall tell you later about Jonathan and Pamela's troubles, which almost prevented them from marrying. We will cross each bridge as we come to it, all right? For now, come out of the hot sun before you get heat stroke."
"All right. One bridge at a time. And I would love something to drink. Pray lead the way."
She took his arm, lifted his jacket from the tree branch, and brought him inside.
Mrs. Miller gave him a glass of water, and filled a basin for him to wash his hands. If she thought anything was odd about the couple holding hands or linking arms all the time, she kept her thoughts to herself.
He was very polite to her, adjusting his conversation to her level of understanding and demonstrating that he was listening carefully by asking all about her family. Sarah could see her giving him approving looks, and winked at her once or twice as if to express her delight with the chap she evidently deemed to be Sarah's beau, for all she had insisted he was her cousin.
As the shadows began to length, Sarah thanked Mrs. Miller, and said goodbye.
"I should be thanking you both for bringing these things and helping in the garden. You've both been so kind. Especially you, Mr. Deveril. All that work, well."
"Don't mention it, Mrs. Miller. Only too pleased to help," Alexander said with a wave.
He went down the path to the road arm in arm with Sarah with a brisk step. Only once they were out of earshot did he say, "I think that went rather well, don't you?"
"Yes, yes it did," she said in all sincerity.
"At least you don't have to be ashamed of your cousin who's as blind as a bat."
"Stop it, stop it now," Sarah said vehemently. "I don't care what-"
"But I do," he almost barked.
She laughed then. They had passed yet another group of young women in the High Street. Every single one of them was staring with open admiration at her tall companion. Looking across the way, she saw another three women with similarly awed expressions.
"What's so funny?" he demanded, his expression livid.
"If you could see the looks on the women's faces as you stroll down the street, you would think you were about to be devoured, not talk about me being ashamed of being seen with you. Quite the opposite, in fact. You might be ashamed of being seen with me."
"Why? You're beautiful, are you not?" Alexander said, as if the matter could hardly be in doubt.
"Er, no."
"I know that's not true. Raven-black hair, gray eyes, lovely smile, regal carriage, superb figure. What could be lacking?"
She stopped and stared at him in shock. "How could you possibly..."
"I confess, I asked Caleb this morning. But some of it I could tell myself. The figure, for example. We've been close physically, and you wear no corsets, and-"
"E-e-enough, enough, I g-g-get the idea," she stammered.
"And you blush beautifully too."
"Oh, you are just so clever," she drawled, but then laughed good-naturedly.
"I do try."
They walked for a time in silence.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Sarah. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I find you an extremely attractive woman who I would love to get to know a great deal better."
His words were more than she could have ever hoped to hear. "Not offended at all, my dear Alexander," she said breathily. "Trust is all about honesty. I can't fault you for being honest, can I? Just beware what you say in front of other people. Which might be a problem if you don't know anyone is near enough for you to be overheard."
He nodded. "We need to work out some signals, then, so you can warn me."
"What, you mean like me clamping my hand over your mouth or stomping on your foot?" she suggested with a giggle.
"The first one is too obvious, don't you think? The latter might work."
"Or me squeezing your elbow and pointing you in the right direction?"
"Even better."
"We can try."
He sighed. "Better still, we can avoid having any more intimate conversations like the last one. I should never have said-"
"We shouldn't have any more intimate conversations like the last one on the street. But in the privacy of our own home, you can say whatever you like."
He smiled in relief. "It's a bargain, then."
Sarah peered up the street. "Would you like to go into the bakery for some chocolate and a cream horn?"
"Do you think I can manage?" he asked in a doubtful tone.
"I think so. I shall help, but not in an obvious way, in case you get into trouble." She pressed some coins into his palm. "Here you are. The waiter will come to ask us what we wish, you tell him, he brings it. Put the money in the tray."
"Just make sure that I don't blunder into anyone going in or out of the door."
"Door. There's a step up. Just don't let go of my arm fully."
They got in the entrance without incident, but he whispered urgently, "Table, chair?"
"Right one step, straight ahead three, reach out your left hand to touch the back of your chair, hold on to my arm, and then touch the back of mine."
She moved at a sedate pace so as not to fluster him. She heaved a sigh of relief when they were both seated safely at the table. "Very good. I forgot all about the table and chairs part of it when I hatched this plan."
"My heart is pounding. Would you believe it?"
"I won't think any less of you if you tell me this is too hard, and that you want to give up this pretense of normalcy."
"Where's the waiter?" Alexander demanded with a determined air.
She patted his arm lightly. "That's my boy. He's coming now."
Alexander placed his order, and then asked her to describe the view out the window.
"The fabric shop, the sweet shop, and the boot makers are all straight across the street, working from left to right. Further down is the solicitor's office, and the shop front after that is the barber's."
"How is my hair?"
She considered his black wavy locks, slightly too long for the fashion, but suitable for his handsome face. "Fine. I can do it for you anyway, or Caleb. I cut Jonathan's all the time."
The waiter brought the items Alexander had requested, and placed them on the table.
She waited until he had left, and said, "Cup on the right, cream horn on the left. The handle is at six o'clock. The fork is at three o'clock."
He slid his left hand carefully along the table, and found the handle. He moved his right hand until he located the pastry plate, and moved his hand around to the right to pick up the fork.
"Very good."
"I have a good teacher."
"It's a bit like learning how to dance."
"That I can't do, though I recall loving it a great deal."
"A quadrille would be too hard, but there's no reason why you couldn't manage a waltz or polka. Anything where you didn't have to change partners."
"I suppose we could try."
"Yes, whenever you like," she said eagerly, delighted with the prospect of the perfect excuse for being in his arms. "Now drink your chocolate before it gets cold."
He began to hum a few waltzes.
She raised her brows in surprise. "You do remember."
He shrugged. "I have no idea where it comes from. And it comes and goes. I can't recall to order, as it were."
"I understand."
"Napkin?"
"Left hand, eleven o'clock."
His hand skirted the coffee cup and he wiped his mouth delicately.
"Cream at the corner of your mouth." She resisted the temptation to
lean forward and lick it away.
He wielded his napkin. "Better?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"Are you enjoying it?"
"I feel like a wild animal in a cage on display," he muttered.
"Perhaps an apt comparison, but I promise you, the only people looking at you are simply dying to know who you are, and why you're stuck with dull old me for company."
He laughed. "I'm sure that's not true."
Sarah nodded. "I think I'm pretty good at reading people's expressions. You're certainly not a blind bat. In fact, the only animal you resemble is a little field mouse about to be devoured by a bird of prey."
He laughed again, and finished his pastry. "It was very good."
"And the chocolate?"
"Bliss."
"You don't always have to be so easy, you know. If there are things you don't like, you only have to say."
"I am saying what I think. I adore chocolate. Now, would you like to go the milliner's to pick up some notions and things?" he offered.
"Oh, no-"
"I assure you I'm up to it."
"It will be much harder. In any event, it will really get everyone who hasn't already seen you talking up a storm."
"Why?" he asked innocently.
"Well, let's just say that most of the men hereabouts don't take much interest in fabrics."
"Point taken. But you could always leave me here, and-"
"No, we ought to be heading back."
He frowned. "Why, what's the hurry?"
"I want to show you the garden in daylight. It won't make any difference to you, but it does to me. I can't read all the seed packets in the dark, dear."
"Very well." He was relieved she did not seem at all ashamed about being with him. He also preened inwardly at the way she had spoken to him with such affection.
Alexander clinked the money she had given him onto the tray, rose, and held her chair for her. Then he pivoted on his heel and walked forward three steps, took one step to the left, and stepped down out of the bakery.
"Very good."
"We can waltz later," he said with a smile.
"Yes, please," Sarah breathed. She could hardly wait to press his lean body against hers...
Chapter Eight
After a leisurely stroll through the small town, with Sarah providing a running commentary on every shop they passed, they went down the road and arrived back at the vicarage. She took Alexander straight to the rear garden, and had him pace out further plots for the different vegetables.
"Carrots, beans, turnips, cabbages, lettuce, potatoes..."
He enjoyed the flower garden best, however, and smelled the rose buds enthusiastically, rattling off the names. She checked the sticks; he was correct on every count.
"It will be a while longer before they're at their best," he said.
"I know, but you can help tend them. I'm sure they will be the best we've ever had. Who knows, with your help in the garden, maybe we'll take first prize in the County fair."
"I'll try my best, if you will."
"It's a bargain." She patted him on the shoulder.
"Show me where your tools are."
She let him search through them, warning him only when there was anything particularly sharp. "I'll put the more dangerous ones here to the right so you don't have to worry about handling the others carefully."
"Good idea. Thank you."
"And one other suggestion, if I may?"
"Yes?"
"Your clothes. Jonathan has a gardening set. Do you want to go in and change?"
"Yes, fine."
"I'll get them for you."
While he was changing, she did the same, putting on an old gown, and an apron over it. They weeded the flowerbeds in companionable silence for over an hour. Then she made him pick some fresh herbs for dinner.
"Parsley, thyme, marjoram, chive...."
"You see, it's all coming back to you." She smiled, pleased at his progress. Then she recollected that he couldn't see her encouraging expression, and so hugged him lightly around the waist.
"I suppose it never left."
He placed the bunches carefully in her basket, and took it from her. Grasping her hand, he walked with her down the path and into the house. They took off their dirty boots and left them by the door. They entered her small sitting room, where they warmed themselves by the fire.
"Supper will be ready in about an hour. Would you like to rest before?"
"I'm going to wash up and change first, and after, if I may, I'd like to try your pianoforte."
She managed to keep the surprise and doubt out of her tone. "Certainly, if you like."
They both went upstairs to their rooms, and soon she could hear footsteps heading downwards once more, then the strains of Mozart coming from the sitting room.
Even more surprising was when he began to sing an aria in Italian, one of her brother's favorites.
"I'm speechless. Italian too," she commented when she went downstairs some time later. "You must certainly have known Jonathan very well to know that song. I wonder why he never mentioned you in his letters. But then, he was always so busy, and I suspect many of his missives never even arrived. But the other Rakehells must have known you too. I wonder at them never mentioning you. Jet-black hair, pale golden eyes, tanned complexion, as I am sure you must have had when you looked healthier. Hmm. It's a puzzle."
Alexander remained silent. He could think of several reasons why his brother might not have mentioned him to his sheltered and well-bred sister. None of them were pleasant.
His head began to pound in the achingly familiar way it did when he was trying too hard to remember, or when the memories came tumbling out, as they had done today. Most of the time he was not able to make sense out of them, but Sarah Deveril was a perceptive woman.
"And the Italian. Can you translate it?"
"I think so, but- Oh God."
He pitched forward, crashing down onto the keys with a discordant note. She shouted for Caleb and Jenny and pushed in beside him on the bench. She put one arm around his shoulder and lifted his head. He had hit his head on the sharp edge of the ornamental music holder, and a small drop of blood trickled out of the wound. She pressed her handkerchief to the gash, and looked up in relief as Caleb came running in.
"Here, help me get him to the divan in the other room."
They half-dragged, half-carried him to the small sitting room, and got the large man onto it with a bit of maneuvering. She drew the covers over his chest and brushed back his tousled hair.
"Do you want me to fetch the doctor?"
"Yes. Send Jenny. I may need you here to help me lift him."
He went off to tell his wife, while she stanched the flow of blood.
Alexander looked to be in severe pain. His lips were white and compressed, and his fingers bunched into fists which clutched the blanket.
Caleb returned a short time later. Sarah sent him out again for the vinegar and brown paper. She gave him a list of other necessities when he came back again.
"Some brandy and cool water to bathe his face, in a separate basin, please. And get me the caraway and ginger, and some white wine."
She made Alexander as comfortable as possible given she was not quite sure what she was dealing with. She was vastly relieved when Dr. Gold arrived a short time later.
"Jenny told me your cousin just got back from the war, and is very ill," the older man with silver hair said without preamble.
"He has terrible headaches, and just now he seemed to be in pain and pitched forward. He cut himself on the edge of the pianoforte."
"I see. What have you given him?"
She told him. Then she said, "He had a headache when he arrived here last evening. The vinegar and brown paper seem to have helped."
"I see."
He examined his head and eyes, and shone a light into them. She could see the pupils react.
"Doctor, his eyes..."
"What abo
ut them? They seem fine to me. He couldn't have hit himself that hard if all he did was fall forward while he was seated. They aren't black."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 12
