A Curious Courting (26 page)

“That is thoughtful of you, Mr. Rushton, though a bit unrealistic. Once your house is complete, no one will venture on your grounds for a simple country stroll.”

“What I can’t understand is how you can walk for miles around Shalbrook if you have this fear, Miss Easterly-Cummings. There must be cows everywhere.”

“I am always aware of where the cows are on my lands, and Scamp is a wonderful warning system for the occasional mistake.”

“Is Scamp afraid of cows, too?” he asked sardonically.

“No, she loves them. She doesn’t like horses.”

“You brought her home on your horse.”

“Yes, and she scratched me severely for it,” Selina grumbled as she pulled back her sleeve to exhibit the almost-healed wound. “I was very foolish not to accept your offer to wait for us.”

“You don’t like to accept help, do you, Miss Easterly-Cummings?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“You should learn to. The pleasure you get from helping people is no different than they get from helping you. There is no disgrace in it, you know.” As Rushton drew his pair in for the gate, Selina studied her hands intently. “I’m not scolding you, my dear,” he said gently, “just offering another piece of unsolicited advice.” When she still did not look at him, he laid a hand over hers and softly turned her face towards his. “I am not in the habit of interfering in other people’s lives, you know. But we are…friends, are we not?”

Her piquant expression struck him forcibly, and he touched his lips lightly to hers before forcing himself to silently hand her the reins and whip and jump to the ground. Selina watched bemused as he opened the gate and waved her through. When he was once again seated beside her, neither of them spoke, though the very air seemed charged with tension. Brief as it had been, the kiss had unsettled them both. It brought to mind their previous experience, that astonishing timeless adventure which promised nothing, and had yet served its purpose well.

Selina wondered if it had become less significant for a man to kiss a woman; when she was younger, only attached couples did so, and she could remember Maria blushing when she spoke of Franmore kissing her after they had agreed to be married. Or perhaps Mr. Rushton thought their…friendship allowed of such a liberty. Surely it did not! Penrith was her friend, too, and yet she could not picture him kissing her so, even such a swift, light thing. He might, if he were moved by something, salute her cheek—though he never had. No, she decided indignantly, Mr. Rushton should not have kissed her.

Covertly watching her expressions, Rushton knew when she arrived at this conclusion. “It’s too late to slap me, Miss Easterly-Cummings, so I hope you will forgive me,” he said gravely, though his eyes belied any real seriousness.

“You think because I allowed you to kiss me that day I was upset... I shouldn’t have, I suppose, if it gave you the idea I was... I’m not like that, Mr. Rushton. You are too accustomed to the morals of London Society, I fear. In the country a more proper atmosphere reigns, I assure you.” Selina twisted her hands agitatedly in her lap. “No, it is my fault. I gave you a mistaken impression and my actions will of course mean more than my words. I think perhaps I should not see you alone again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rushton snapped, annoyed more with himself than her. “I am entirely to blame, and I promise you I have not received the wrong impression of your moral rectitude, Miss Easterly-Cummings. I won’t attempt to kiss you again without your permission.”

“There, you see? You suffer from the illusion that I would give you my permission. I won’t! No more than I would give Frank…” A mortified blush splashed across her cheeks, and she longed to disappear from the moving carriage.

Although he strongly wished to know the conclusion of her unfinished sentence, Rushton guided his pair through the Shalbrook gates without a word. He drove around to the stables so that he could leave the curricle and walk Miss Easterly-Cummings to the house. Her color remained high, but she graciously took his arm and attempted, in a rather choked voice, to discuss matters of no importance. The walk up the terraces seemed endless to her but all too short to him. Rushton knew she would not invite him in.

“Won’t you come to London to visit the Southwoods?” he asked in the middle of her comment on the daffodils poking up through the earth.

“Why, no, I can’t do that.”

“Lady Southwood won’t notice one more person in the house, you know.”

“They would try to entertain me, knowing that I have not been there before. And…and I have not the proper clothes for London,” she admitted. “There isn’t time to amass a suitable wardrobe, even for a short stay, and if there were time, what use would it be to me later?”

“The modiste in Leicester…”

Selina shook her head. “If there is one thing you might try to accomplish with Henry while you have him, Mr. Rushton, it is not to let his tongue wander off with him. He is far too frank, which is only to say he has no sense of discretion as yet. I would be infinitely grateful to you should you manage to instill a certain amount of reserve in him.”

“I encourage him to talk about you.”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever for?”

“You are more reserved than your cousin, Miss Easterly-Cummings. If it were left to you, I’d know nothing about you at all—except your problems in raising Henry.”

“There is little to know about me.”

“Patently untrue,” he retorted, his mind locked on Lord Benedict and Geoffrey Haslett. Surely Benedict’s name was Frank… They stood before the door, and it was obvious that she intended for him to use the knocker, as she glanced toward it twice, but he could not allow their interview to end without assuring himself that it would not be their last. “May I call to take you riding on Saturday?”

Selina hesitated, her eyes searching his face. His regard was kindly, even affectionate. How could she refuse him when she might not have the opportunity of spending time again with him after his trip to London? What if he brought that Longstreet (or whatever) lady back to see the progress of his hunting-box? Yet how could she accept, when she had said they should not be alone together again? But he had promised not to kiss her, without her permission. And she had told him she would not give it. Was his intent perhaps to soothe over any misunderstanding between them? “I…yes, that would be fine, Mr. Rushton.”

“Shall I have a good meal first?” he asked quizzingly.

“If you would.”

“Certainly.” He finally raised the knocker and tapped it firmly. “I shall call early, about ten, if that is satisfactory. Then I can have a session with Henry afterwards.”

“He’ll be pleased.” The door opened and she smiled hesitantly before entering. “You don’t have to eat a lot if you’re not accustomed to do so in the mornings. That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

Not knowing what the purpose was, he shook his head wonderingly as she slipped through the door.

Chapter Twenty

Saturday morning arrived with a downpour of rain. Even half awake Rushton could hear the constant lashing of the drops against the window panes and he rose swiftly to draw back the garish purple draperies and survey the wet, gray world outside. He should, of course, send a message excusing himself, but he did not wish to miss the opportunity of seeing Miss Easterly-Cummings when it was but a few days before his proposed departure for London. The weather showed no sign of clearing; it would be impossible to ride with her. He
could
give Henry the promised boxing lesson. Purposefully he tugged off his nightshirt and began to dress himself.

The hood of the curricle provided little protection against the driving rain, and a mile out of Barton he regretted his decision. His driving coat was soaked through, his pair skittish on the slippery surface of the road and his temper none too placid from either circumstance. What would she think of his coming out on such a day? Surely it was as good as a declaration, and he was not prepared to offer for her as yet.

What was it Cathford had said in his reply?

How surprising you should remember my comments on Miss E-C! She is indeed the young lady to whom I referred, but that is years ago. I was so struck by her looks, her courage and her personality that I half fell in love with her myself There was some talk of an attachment, to a soldier off in the Peninsula, but I would still have made a push for her had I
thought myself equal to her spirits. A glorious girl, but you know me, Gareth—too reserved by half for such a one! She would need a sturdier hand on the reins than I possess. And I thought of you. What a pair you would make! Don’t you like her? Sally has agreed to marry me in June.

A glorious girl, yes, but so alien to his way of life. She had not fallen in with his plan for her to appear on the London scene so that he could judge her ability to assume the role he was contemplating for her. Not that it was a test—surely he was not so presumptuous as to require of her that she prove acceptable to the ton! As the curricle slid dangerously close to a ditch at the side of the road, he gathered his wandering wits to steady his pair. Would he go through life perpetually distracted by her, he wondered dismally as the carriage regained the solid surface. And, yes, it was a test, his wanting her to go to London! If she could not enjoy the life there, then it was senseless to marry her, even if she was the most enchanting woman he had ever met. Perhaps she had seen the trap, and that was why she refused to go. Certainly her excuses were feeble enough. The Southwoods’ hospitality was well known, and preparation for even so great an event as Cassandra’s come-out ball was not likely to dim their reception of an old family friend. And from the example she had shown him of the Leicester modiste’s expertise, there would have been no trouble in clothing her adequately in the time allotted.

A crack of lightning startled his pair no less than he himself. They bolted down the road, careening past the Shalbrook gates at just the moment he had started to rein them through. The subsequent confusion taxed his driving ability too far for his present state of mind. For a moment he thought mournfully that his distraction was going to cost him his life, as the light vehicle swung crazily against the bank with a consequent rending crack as the splinter bar gave way. Only with the deftness of long experience was he able to control the panic-stricken horses and bring them to a halt without further damage to themselves or the curricle, which hung from the cracked splinter bar like a broken toy.

Castigating himself for his carelessness, he leaped down from the carriage and went to his horses’ heads, his calm voice reassuring, and his hands searching their legs for any sign of damage. Relieved to find none, he expertly released them from the harness and began to lead them toward Shalbrook. His arrival at the stables caused a certain amount of concern, and Morris insisted he go straight into the house. “For you’re wet to the skin, sir, and the lads and me can look after your beasts. No harm done, so far as I can see. No, no, we’ll see to the curricle when the rain lets up a bit. Fancy your coming out on a day like this,” he said with a disapproving shake of his head.

Rushton would gladly have returned to the inn, had he had the option, but since there was no longer any possibility of doing so, he made his way to the rear door he and Henry had used on the day Scamp had entangled herself in the brambles. His boots were muddy and rain dripped from the various capes of his driving coat—not for the world would he have presented himself at the front door. His knock was answered by a startled footman who instantly recognized him, but was at a loss as to how to handle the situation.

“if you would kindly inform Mr. Forrester of my arrival…and my condition,” Rushton suggested patiently, “I will await him here.”

He was not to be allowed the consolation of appearing only to Henry, however. The footman, large with his news, found Henry with his cousin in the study and announced in grave tones, “Mr. Rushton has come to call and is at the rear entry, and I fear very much the Worse for the weather.”

Selina and Henry shared a startled glance and immediately proceeded to their very uncomfortable guest, who had deposited his soggy gloves and hat on the stone floor beside the door and was attempting, ineffectually, to wipe the moisture from his face with a soaking handkerchief.

“Good Lord!” Henry exclaimed at sight of him. “We had no thought that you would come out on a day like this, Rushton! Here, give Hooper your driving coat, and I’ll take you along to my room and see what can be done for you.” He cast a helpless look at Selina.

“Have his clothes sent down to the kitchen where they can be dried, Henry,” she suggested, stifling an impulse to laugh at the absurd picture Rushton presented. “You really should not have come, sir. When we rose to find the day so inclement, we did not even expect a messenger to be sent out on such a day.” Her brows drew together in a tiny frown. “Surely you did not consider it a matter of keeping your word! You cannot be so inflexible as that!”

In a voice of icy sarcasm he rapped, “I could not deny myself the pleasure of seeing so welcoming a host and hostess. Seldom have I been told by both that my efforts were futile, and I had better not have made them. My curricle lies down the road with a broken splinter bar, my horses are undoubtedly shaken by their misadventure, I am soaked to the skin and likely to take an inflammation of the lungs, and the only greeting I receive is a disapproving shake of the head from your groom and a scolding from the two of you. I regret that I made the effort.” He paused in the act of removing his coat, and shrugged his shoulders back into it. “If you will condescend to allow me the temporary use of a saddle, I shall have one of my pair prepared for my return to the Horse and Hound.”

Although a flush of embarrassment spread over Henry’s face, Selina was not the least moved by Rushton’s pathetic monologue. “Stuff! You are just annoyed that your driving was not up to snuff today, my dear sir, and that your curricle will be out of commission for a few days. We’re delighted you’ve come. Nothing is more tiresome than a rainy day. Come, give your coat to Hooper, and Henry will see that you are thoroughly dried out in no time. We would not wish to have you developing an inflammation of the lungs.” The corners of her mouth twitched suspiciously as he continued to glare at her and made no effort to remove his coat.