A Poor Relation
Page 18
He called to Anne and Bernard, who took their places close together on the facing seat. Rowena saw that they were holding hands. She blushed and pressed herself farther into the corner as Lord Farleigh sat down beside her. Suddenly he seemed very large. The carriage moved on.
“How did you know where we were?” Anne asked.
“Chris tracked you down,” Bernard told her, “and not without considerable hazard. I regret to tell you, sweetheart, that when we went to enquire after you, your sister flung herself into Chris’s arms and offered to send Mr. Ruddle to the rightabout, though I must admit it was in a half-hearted way.”
“What a peagoose she is! She is perfectly happy with dear Adolphus, but I suppose the prospect of losing the title forever overcame her. Millie is a constant source of mortification to me. Whatever did Lord Farleigh do?”
“Why, to tell the truth I believe he scarcely noticed, eager as he was to find out which direction you had taken. I’d have been perfectly content to await your return at home.”
“You should not have ridden so far! You must take better care of yourself,” cried Anne.
Rowena had lost interest in their exchange. She stole a peek at Chris.
He was looking at her seriously. “Miss Pinkerton told me you had chosen not to go to London in the spring. That is, she told me you were seeking a farm to live on.”
As an explanation it left a lot to be desired. Rowena could not think of any answer but a weak “Oh.”
The engaged couple had a great deal to say to each other, but between Chris and Rowena conversation languished. She gazed out of the window as if fascinated by the passing scene, though she could not have said whether the hedges were hawthorn or hazel, whether the cottages of Hinton on the Green were built of stone or brick.
He had rejected her cousin. Of course that was the only gentlemanly thing to do, whatever Millicent’s feelings, since she was betrothed to another.
Why had he come to meet her? Why was he determined that she should see the farm he chose rather than those she had set out to see? Why was he sitting there in silence looking, as another stolen glance showed her, both discouraged and anxious?
The carriage turned right and Rowena recognized the road to Down Stanton. A horrid suspicion seized her. One of his tenants must have given notice and he wanted her to take over the farm. Though he did not care to marry her he needed the benefit of her advice and expertise. In a way it was flattering, but it did not tempt her in the least. In fact, it would be unbearable.
“We are going towards Farleigh Grange,” she cried, turning to him. “I won’t go any farther.” She let down the window and called to the coachman to stop. There were tears in her eyes; she furiously blinked them away.
“Why not?” Chris sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“I do not want to be your tenant.”
Smiling wryly, he captured her agitated hands. “It is true I am not the best of landlords. However, that is precisely the opposite of what I hoped for. Rowena, I want to be your tenant—for life.”
She looked at him in confusion.
Bernard exchanged a glance with Anne. “I think this is where we go for a stroll,” he suggested, and helped her down into the lane.
“Rowena, what is wrong?” Chris demanded urgently.
“What does that mean, that you want to be my... tenant for life?”
“A reprehensible phrase signifying a husband. I want to be yours.”
“Then why did you go away, stay away so long?”
“Because of your inheritance, and Millicent’s betrothal. I knew what people would say, and I was afraid you would believe it. Besides, I thought you wanted to have your Season and make a splendid match.”
“What people would say? Oh, I see!” It had not crossed her mind before, when she was so delighted to have the money to smooth his path, but people would talk. Millicent, for one, would be certain that Chris’s offer was prompted by Rowena’s unexpected inheritance. All her loving trust was in her eyes as she assured him, “But I do not care what people say.”
“I decided I don’t, either. I want you too much to give you up for such a silly reason. And you do not want a splendid match?”
“Oh, yes, I want to be a countess.”
Chris tightened his grip on her hands and she moved a little closer, but still he held her away from him. “Rowena, I love you and I want more than anything in the world to marry you, but you know I cannot offer a life of luxury. Your money must be put in a trust fund for our children, so we shall have to scrape by as best we can.”
His children! Rowena felt the colour rise in her cheeks. But what nonsense the dear man was talking.
“I mean to invest my fortune,” she said with determination.
“Of course you shall choose how it shall be disposed.” He looked disconcerted.
“The only investment with which I am conversant is agriculture,” she continued demurely, hiding a smile. “I believe the best use that can be made of it is to improve a faltering estate so that in due course it will yield proper returns.”
“Shall I never learn when you are roasting me? Come here.”
“Yes, Major.” She obeyed.
He swept her into his arms and stopped her mouth with his. The warm firmness of his lips, the pressure of his hands on her back, convinced her of his love.
Dizzy with happiness, clinging to him, she vaguely heard the sound of applause. Anne’s and Bernard’s faces appeared at the window.
“It looks as if she has accepted him,” said Bernard.
“And about time too!” said Anne.
Copyright © 1990 by Carola Dunn
Originally published by Harlequin Regency Romance
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.