“Caesar! Oh, the devil!"
Taken aback by her oath, Richard suppressed a grin as Selina flew past him. Compared to the restrained “luds” of ladies of the ton, her spirit was refreshing. Miss Trevelyan—he assumed, Miss Payley—had bolted from the barn as fast as her brother had escaped the gig.
Richard followed her.
The bull, it appeared, had refused to be herded and was still making short shrift of the sprouted trees. Augustus had stopped his waving in favour of beating the bull with a stout stick, which, though inadequate for what he wanted, had resulted in Caesar's bellow.
“Caesar, I will kill you and roast you for pudding!"
The smile, which had begun to tease Richard's mouth at Selina's admonishment, faded quickly when he saw how truly distressed she was. Not in the least frightened of the beast, she climbed through the fence and ran after him. She snatched the switch from Augustus's hand and laid into the bull, tears just below the surface of her fury.
Richard hastily looked around and spied a nearby haystack from which to borrow a fistful of hay. With his long legs, he took the fence in little more than a second. Then, reaching the bull, he stretched out his offering.
Caesar took one whiff of the sweet-smelling hay and was instantly distracted from the seedlings, which must have tasted bitter in comparison. As Richard retreated towards the opening in the fence, Caesar followed with his waddling gait.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Lint!"
Startled by the unfamiliar name, Richard remembered that his introduction had been cut off as he was giving his title. Selina must have heard only the first syllable.
“I ought to have thought of hay myself,” she said, coming around the other side of the bull, “but I'm afraid my temper got the best of me."
“Perfectly understandable, I am sure.” Richard handed her the hay bouquet, and Caesar's nose followed with it. “Under these circumstances, one feels much better for the chance to give one or two serious thwacks."
In proof of this statement, Augustus was still following them and applying the ineffectual stick to Caesar's rump at every other step.
Richard added, “Besides, Caesar certainly deserved a beating."
“Did he not?”
Selina's sigh pulled at Richard's heart. Judging by the time Caesar had been loose among the trees, Richard knew that many had been killed. He did not need to see the poor condition of the fence, the run-down house, or crumbling barn to know that the Payleys could not afford such a loss.
And where were the other Payleys? So far, Richard had seen only the two, when clearly there must be more. He supposed they must have gone to market in another village or to make some calls.
“It looks as though someone will have to repair that fence,” he said, noticing where the bull had broken in.
“Yes, I—that is, someone will this evening.”
Selina's slip of the tongue jolted him from his comfort. “Do you not have anyone in your employ to do the job?” he asked, suspecting he knew the answer already.
“I am afraid not.” Selina's tone was light. “But it's no matter. I have done such things before."
“You shouldn't be—”
A proud lifting of her chin warned him not to protest. Richard broke off before he could embarrass her again.
But— Confound it! he thought. Were all her people invalid that she should take this upon herself? He could not let a lady—for she was a lady, despite her use of strong expressions—he could never permit her to perform such a task.
“I could fix that fence for you in a trice,” he said, wondering at the speed with which he'd made the offer.
If any other man had been around, Richard would immediately have paid him to do the work. Richard, himself, had not done anything of the kind in years. But his father had been of the opinion that an aristocrat should know all about the workings of his estates and, consequently, had made certain his son knew at least the rudiments of carpentry and farming. Richard had enjoyed that part of his training.
“Oh, I could not ask you—"
“You did not ask me, Miss—Trevelyan.” Richard caught himself before addressing her as Payley. Now did not seem the proper time to straighten the matter out. Dark was coming, and if the fence were to be mended today, it would have to be done at once before Clarissa decided to follow Caesar's example. Richard had noticed the missing pieces to the barn's walls. It would be a small matter for the bull to break through again.
“But—” Selina, it seemed, was not used to accepting anyone's help. “I could not abuse your time so. Haven't you come about the trees?"
Trees? Richard supposed she must have been expecting a nurseryman, the same person Augustus had mistaken him for.
“I have come about trees,” he agreed cautiously. Family trees, he said truthfully to himself. He was not about to reveal his identity until the fence was mended. If Selina knew for one second the errand he had come upon, she would never allow him to help her, and Richard discovered he wanted to do this very much.
He reasoned that whoever had made the application for his name, this girl still needed all the help she could get. He had noticed the roughness of her hand and knew that work had produced that roughness. At the moment, in spite of her vibrant colouring, she looked about to drop.
“The trees can wait until tomorrow,” Richard said. He figured he could put up at Mr. Croft's inn, which had seemed pleasant and clean enough.
“But won't your employer complain if you are detained?”
He could not miss the anxiety in her voice. Richard wondered just exactly what their anticipated visitor had been expected to accomplish. It was quite possible that the man would show up tomorrow, but until he did, and as long as Richard did not lie to her, precisely, he told himself he had nothing to worry about.
“I have all the time I need,” was all he said on that subject. “And, besides, it seems I must wait anyway for the gentleman with whom I am to conduct my business."
At this, instead of telling him when he might expect to see the gentleman in charge, Selina drew herself up. “You will have to conduct your business with me, sir. You see—” she beckoned Augustus forward, and the boy made Richard a low bow—"This is Mr. Augustus Trevelyan, Esq., and I, as his sole living relative, represent him."
“Do you.” Richard's rhetorical question conveyed none of his shock at her pronouncement. This investigation was becoming more intriguing with each passing moment. Selina, then, must have been the person who wrote the letter of application, though why a boy's sister should do such a thing he could not imagine. And were there really no more members of this household?
Richard found himself fascinated by the mystery.
“Well, miss—” He could not bring himself to call her Trevelyan again, not when she had used his name without permission. “We shall have plenty of time tomorrow, I trust, to carry out our business."
His tone must have conveyed its usual authority, for Selina nodded and said, “Augustus, why don't you help Mr. Lint and bring him all he needs to fix the fence while I attend to our supper?"
Richard winced at her mistaking his name. He was not used to practicing deception, but at the moment, he saw no way out of his. Tomorrow, he trusted, would be soon enough to rectify it.
Augustus agreed cheerily and ran into the barn to fetch some tools. Selina curtsied again, and Richard admired the straightness of her back.
Tired with work she might be, and disappointed, but still she carried herself like a lady. Her graceful curtsey had been worthy of a presentation gown. Her shoulders were elegant though broad, and the dress she wore hugged them tightly, showing off their alluring curvature. But Selina seemed oblivious to her charms as she excused herself.
Richard watched her move towards the house and had to admit that the view was just as good from this side: the way she walked with her head held high, the slight swing of her hips beneath her tattered gown, her narrow waist just beneath the luxuriant fall of hair.
He ha
d to admit that the girl had pluck, too. He almost regretted his errand now. He would not enjoy embarrassing, perhaps even arguing with a girl who needed his help.
And, who did not like to accept it.
Remembering how she had reacted to his offer, Richard decided he had best get to work before Selina changed her mind and sent him packing before he could fix the fence. He removed his woolen jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
Chapter Three
Feeling relieved of a burden, which for her was a rare sensation, Selina was half-way to the kitchen before she remembered Clarissa and the milk. The cow could not be left so swollen, or the milk left to sour in the bucket. Since Augustus was busy helping the stranger, Selina would have to milk the cow herself. And if she did not hurry, she told herself wearily, she would have to light a lantern in order to find Clarissa's udder. With a sigh, she turned her steps towards the barn.
Clarissa was still standing where she had left her, tied in the stall and looking pitiful. Selina swallowed her irritation and smiled.
“You thought I had forgotten you, and it would serve you right if I had. But, as you can see, I have returned."
Now, if the cow would only behave, Selina could finish making the soup before she was too tired to stir it.
She settled herself back down on the stool and held the bucket between her feet. Clarissa, perhaps feeling contrite for running her mistress off, stood perfectly still this time; and, as her milk squirted into the bucket, and her warmth encompassed them both in a sweet-smelling cocoon, Selina's mind began to wander.
It did not have to wander far to light upon Mr. Lint.
His appearance, after they had given him up for lost, would have been welcome at any time, but it had come as a pure blessing today. If they could secure Lord Webb as a customer for their trees by impressing his steward, then other customers should follow. Selina only hoped that Caesar's antics had not ruined their chances of winning him over.
Mr. Lint did not seem to hold the incident against them. Nor had he seemed too discomfited by the notion of conducting his business solely with her. In fact, he had behaved more considerately than she could possibly have wished. Just as he had seemed more the gentleman—and a taller gentleman at that—than she could ever have dreamed.
For a moment, Selina allowed her thoughts to drift back to her first view of him: tall and straight, woolen breeches hugging a pair of strong legs, an elegant jacket fitting his broad shoulders to perfection. Then, when she had stood, she had seen a lean, handsome face, a hint of humor in his blue eyes. And a spark of something else ....
There, she chastised herself as she stood to pick up the bucket. She must not go thinking he had admired her looks. He had not gawked, at least. She was used to rude reactions to her height, and to ignoring them. Nothing could be done to change her size, and it had come as an advantage under their impoverished circumstances. With no men about, other than Lucas, who was far too old for most chores, it was fortunate she had grown so tall.
All the same, it had been a novel experience to have a man gaze at her so. A man with intelligence, manners and wit, and not one of the country bumpkins she had grown so used to. Selina sighed. It was almost surprising how elegant he was, but then, a great aristocrat like Lord Webb would naturally have an exceptional man for his steward.
Selina hauled the bucket into the house and covered it, leaving the milk to be skimmed later. That was something Augustus could do. She would miss his help when he was gone. And him.
Not allowing herself to dwell upon that sad day, still in the murky future, she turned to her soup with a will. One beneficial thing about working as hard as she did was the appetite it raised. No matter how exhausted she felt, she could usually summon the energy to make supper. And the stranger's offer to mend the fence had given her enough lift that she hardly felt tired tonight.
By the time Mr. Lint and Augustus had finished setting new rails to the enclosure, Selina had finished the soup and cut and fried great slabs of bacon. Before seeking out the laborers, she retreated upstairs to her room and, ignoring the chill, changed her gown. Her fresh one was as old and as out-of-date as the last, but at least it was clean, and she knew its warm colors became her. She brushed the straw out of her hair with a wicked stroke, then tied it back with the yellow ribbons she had bought at the last fair.
She had never had an occasion to wear the ribbons, but Mr. Lint was an important customer and she must do what she could to impress him, she told herself.
With this virtuous thought in mind, Selina walked back downstairs and, needing a lantern now, carried one out to the barn.
The sound of male voices, and the clang of metal being scraped, helped her to locate the objects of her search. Augustus was cleaning mud from the tools, while laughing at something his companion had said.
The light from Selina's lantern cast a glow upon Mr. Lint, who was unrolling his sleeves in preparation for putting on his jacket. Selina stopped at the doorway, taken aback by the sight of a man's lean chest covered in fine white cotton.
Then, seeing streaks of dirt against the white, she was overcome by remorse. “Oh, dear! I fear your shirt has been ruined."
Mr. Lint glanced down at his chest. His eyes returned to hers, and he smiled. “You mustn't worry. I am sure it can be washed, and if not, I have others."
Of course. He would not be penniless as she and Augustus were.
Selina dismissed this thought, which was unworthy, and straightened her shoulders. “My brother and I are very grateful to you for your kind services, Mr. Lint. We would be pleased if you would take your supper with us."
She could see hesitation in his eyes, and something about it made her lift her chin higher. Undoubtedly, he thought he would get a better meal from Mr. Croft.
To her surprise, Mr. Lint accepted her invitation with a graceful bow. Selina thought she had never seen the courtesy performed with such ease. She could imagine that Lord Webb's steward would be at home to an inch in a London withdrawing room, though, of course, she herself knew nothing of such places.
With his back turned towards her, she watched him put on his coat, a snug-fitting garment, which took quite a bit of effort to work into. So much effort, in fact, that Selina felt her fingers itching to help him into its sleeves. She was amazed that a man who made his living on an estate could afford to waste his time on such an impractical garment, and she began to wonder if Mr. Lint might not have a touch of the dandy in him. His clothes appeared to have been sewn while he stood in them, they fit so well.
Then, as he stretched the jacket over his back, she dismissed such a foolish notion. No man with muscles like his could be a dandy. Selina was used to seeing men's muscles as they worked in the fields: bulging forearms, thick necks, and straining backs. What made this man different was the litheness of his movements, a seemingly unconscious grace which reminded her suddenly, and most uncomfortably, of her father.
Disturbed by this reflection—which was certainly improper, as well as a grim warning that working as she did, she must have developed the sensibilities of a peasant—Selina left Augustus to show Mr. Lint into the house. They joined her as she was cutting the bread.
Mr. Lint paused upon the threshold. He seemed to take in their situation at a glance—their eating in the kitchen, tallow candles on the table instead of wax, the modesty of their furnishings—even though Selina had set out her mother's old silver.
Fighting the urge to explain that they had not expected company or else she would have opened up the parlor, even going so far as to light a fire in the old chimney place, Selina squared her shoulders.
“If you would care to freshen up, I have warmed some water. It is there by the hearth."
Mr. Lint thanked her, and peeling off his jacket again, set about washing his hands. Augustus shared his soap, then rushed to sit at the table.
“Augustus ....” Selina warned him before he could pinch a slice of bacon. “Do not forget that we have a visitor."
Mr. L
int was shrugging himself back into his coat. He tugged at the collar and sleeves as if he were formally dressing for dinner. Selina did not know whether to be amused or gratified by his manners.
He insisted upon waiting for her to be seated, which only complicated the job of serving. In the end, she was obliged to put all the platters and her mother's large soup tureen on the table and to take a chair herself, or he would never have consented to eat.
Flushed by this unaccustomed attention, Selina ladled out the bowls of soup, conscious that the visitor's eyes followed her every movement.
“I must apologize,” she said, to cover the fact that her hand was trembling, “for the behavior of our bull and for the inconvenience he has caused you. Tomorrow, I trust, after you have seen the excellence of our trees, you will not regret having come."
“I do not regret it now."
The sincerity in his voice disturbed her equanimity for a moment, before he continued, “However, I devoutly hope your plan to turn Caesar into a pudding was nothing more than an idle threat."
Selina felt the warmth of chagrin stealing up to her cheeks at the memory of her outburst. “You must pardon me, sir. I do not mean to give in to my temper, but at times, it will escape."
“Not at all.” Mr. Lint accepted the bowl Augustus had passed him. “My concern was purely for the beast. He puts me forcibly in mind of someone I know, though I cannot think just who at the moment. But since that is true, I would hate to see him roasted for drippings."
Augustus laughed, and Selina smiled as her embarrassment faded. “Caesar does have a rather regal air about him. That is why we gave him his name."
“That's it!” Mr. Lint pointed with his spoon before he lowered it to his soup. “I knew he reminded me of someone. He's the Prince Regent to a tee."
Now, even Selina had to put a hand to her lips to keep from laughing. Mr. Lint's eyes met hers over the sputtering candle. They seemed to glow with warmth, and a fluttering rose in her stomach.
A Country Affair Page 3
