A Curious Courting (27 page)

“It would delight me, of course, to relieve your boredom, Miss Easterly-Cummings, but I fear I shall be more of an inconvenience than an assistance. Several hours would be needed for the drying of my clothes, and during that time I could hardly be expected to see to your amusement.”

“Very stuffy he is today,” Selina declared in a loud stage aside to Henry. “We will humor him, though, as he has gone to such lengths to visit us, and I myself would no doubt be equally irritable were I as wet as he.” She turned to Rushton with an angelic smile. “There now, that is not the least problem. I have no doubt Hooper can look you out some suitable clothing. Henry’s, I fear, would not do, but Hooper is more of your height.”

Hooper obligingly murmured, “Certainly, ma’am. If Mr. Rushton will go along to Mr. Henry’s room, I will be along in a trice with the necessary articles.”

No further word of protest was forthcoming from Rushton, but he allowed Selina only a curt nod before divesting himself of his clammy driving coat, and following Henry up the back stairs to the latter’s room. When the door was closed behind them, Rushton growled, “I thought your cousin had endeavored not to play-act any more when you had company.”

“Did you think she was acting?” Henry asked stoutly. “Only teasing, I think. She should not have, of course, as you were not in the mood to accept it in the spirit offered.”

“You think perhaps I should be?” Rushton asked indignantly, as he tugged at his muddy boots.

Henry kneeled to assist. “We meant no offense, sir. We didn’t protest your arrival because we didn’t wish to have you come, but because we didn’t expect you. Selina was merely trying to cajole you out of the megrims.”

“I do not succumb to the ‘megrims,’ as you call them, Forrester,” Rushton retorted haughtily.

“Don’t you, sir?” The second boot came off with a sloshing sound and Henry regarded it with dismay. “I’m afraid it may be ruined.”

“Forget the damn boot,” his companion rasped. “If  I was rude...”

“Of course you weren’t!”

“If I was rude, I apologize. Your cousin appeared to be laughing at me.”

“I'm sure she never would. Well, she did, when she heard about what happened at the inn that morning, but you didn’t seem to care.”

This reminder gave Rushton pause. Why did he not mind her laughing at him for that ludicrous and painful episode, when he was so irate with her today? Perhaps because he had not been the principal figure in the comedy of errors, whereas he felt every kind of fool for having come out on such a miserable day to exhibit his eagerness to be with Miss Easterly-Cummings. It would not do to make so much of the affair, thereby only heightening his folly. He forced a laugh. “I suppose I must have looked like a drowned rat, and I admit to some concern for my horses. Your cousin was right, you know. My driving was not at its best today.”

“Our roads are atrocious in the rain,” Henry sympathized. “That must be Hooper with some clothes.”

The footman entered majestically, bearing in his arms everything from drawers to cravats. Efficiently he stripped Rushton of his wet clothing and assisted him into the borrowed finery—Hooper’s Sunday best, consisting of a red and yellow striped waistcoat and knee breeches of a bilious green, together with a coat of matching hue. Henry bit his lip as Rushton surveyed himself in the mirror. Not a muscle in the older man’s face moved as his eyes traveled from his head to his feet, and he turned politely to the smiling footman. “My thanks, Hooper. You shall have your clothing back as soon as mine are dry.”

“The coat is a little snug about the shoulders, sir, but never mind. We’ll have yours ready in no time.”

“I would be grateful,” Rushton murmured as the footman departed with his wet clothing over his arm. Impassively, he turned to Henry and said, “I can only be thankful that Victor is not here. You needn’t restrain your merriment, Henry. I would almost rather have retained my wet clothes.”

In spite of having given his permission, Rushton was surprised at the very vigor of Henry’s burst of laughter. Between gulps of amusement, Henry gasped, “You look…like a…Bond Street beau. Selina will ... love it.”

“Perhaps I should stay here until my clothes are dry.”

“Oh, no, surely not! You wouldn’t deny Selina such a treat.”

“No, how could I when she was so kind as to afford me amusement by her own costume when first we met?” Rushton asked smoothly.

Henry’s brows lifted in a query. “Would you remind her of that?”

“Of course not, and little she’d care if I did. Devil take you, Henry, you are putting me out of sorts again. Let’s join your cousin.”

After ordering a hot luncheon and leaving instructions for the care of Mr. Rushton’s clothing in the kitchen, Selina had retired to the drawing room where she nervously picked up the fringe she was knotting. Undoubtedly, she had only managed to antagonize Mr. Rushton with her attempt at levity, and she was consumed with remorse. His approbation had come to mean more to her than she cared to acknowledge. She felt wicked for having pinched at him when he had gone to the trouble of visiting them on such an abominable day. In this chastened mood, she witnessed his entry into the room with a sort of despair, rising to say heartily, “Oh, good, they have found you dry clothing. I’ve ordered a warm meal, but if you should care for a glass of brandy now, you have only to say. Henry is convinced such spirits are a panacea for warding off all manner of evils.”

Startled by her solicitousness, and her lack of awareness of his strange outfit, Rushton was at a loss to answer her. Henry looked no less dumbfounded, though he recovered sufficiently to say abruptly, “Yes, I’ll have some brandy brought for you,” whereupon he disappeared from the room.

“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Rushton? Take the chair near the fire; you must be chilled still.”

“No, I’m perfectly comfortable.”

Selina seated herself awkwardly on the sofa and removed a feather that had escaped its pillow. Rushton continued to stand. “I…I hope your horses took no harm from the accident. Shall I send for word of their condition?”

“No, I’m sure Morris has matters in hand.”

“He’s very capable.” Selina darted a glance up at his expressionless face. “Is your valet recovering?”

“I sent him home.”

“Oh, I’m sure Henry would be happy to have his man serve you, since he was the cause of…”

“I don’t want Henry’s man.”

“No, well, he’s really only a boy in any case, though he is quick to learn.”

Rushton made no reply but his eyes remained intent on her face.

Without looking up, Selina was yet aware of his regard and swallowed painfully. “I didn’t mean to tease you, when you arrived, Mr. Rushton. And I’m sorry you had an accident and were so very wet. Is there…a draft in here? I should not like to have you take a chill.”

“I won’t.”

“No, I dare say you won’t. But then, the most unlikely people do sometimes, you know. Mrs. Morrow was forever taking a chill, and blamed the dampness of the house. I don’t notice it, myself. Not that Mrs. Morrow was an unlikely person to take a chill, for that is not the case at all. She is exactly the type of person one would expect to take a chill.” Selina glanced anxiously to the door through which Henry had disappeared. “I wonder what is keeping him. You must be eager for your brandy.”

“Not in the least.”

“I see. Um, it won’t be long until luncheon. I especially requested that I be informed as soon as the pigeon pie is ready. You do like pigeon pie, don’t you?”

“Usually.”

“Our cook makes a very fine pigeon pie. Don’t you wish to sit down, Mr. Rushton?” she asked desperately.

“I would very likely split your footman’s coat, Miss Easterly-Cummings.”

“Oh. Take if off, if you like. I have no objection.”

“I am not in the habit of sitting with ladies in my shirtsleeves.”

“But this is a special circumstance, sir.”

“Not special enough.”

Her eyes flew to his and her chin came up. “Be uncomfortable, then. I’m sure I don’t care. I didn’t ask you to come in the rain. No one in his right mind would have come in the rain. You can’t blame me for your folly.”

“But I do,” he said softly.

“Well, it’s very unfair of you. I have tried to be agreeable. I have apologized for my teasing, and I have not so much as mentioned how ridiculous you look in those absurd breeches with that grotesque waistcoat. Even Hooper never looked such a quiz in them! He wears them to court the Southwoods’ kitchen-maid, you know, and he is very proud of them. I hope you didn’t embarrass him with any disparaging comments.”

“I didn’t.”

“At least I can be thankful for that.” Angrily she picked up the fringe and pointedly ignored him, her color high and her eyes mutinous.

Only the crackle of the fire disturbed the silence which fell on the room. Rushton picked up a magazine from the Pembroke table and casually flipped through the pages, but he paid no heed to the contents. He was no less aware of her presence than she of his, and he realized that whether or not he was in the same room with her, there was no chance that he would ever again be free from her influence. He was about to turn to her when the door opened to admit Henry, followed by Hooper with a silver tray bearing the finest brandy the Shalbrook cellars had to offer. Scamp managed to dart into the room and made straight for her rescuer. Alerted by her excited barking, Rushton hurriedly dropped the magazine and attempted to prevent her doing damage to his borrowed clothing. He scooped the dog up in her headlong dash at him, and held her at arm’s length, her feet still scooting wildly in the air. Before Selina could make a move, she found Scamp deposited unceremoniously in her lap to the accompaniment of a rending tear as Hooper’s coat, stretched beyond bearing by Rushton’s broad shoulders, gave way. Hooper looked on with dismay while Henry murmured, “Oh, Lord.”

His lips pressed in a tight line, Rushton said, “I will have it repaired or replaced, Hooper. Help me out of it, will you?”

Leaving the decanter on the side table, Hooper instantly performed this small service, though he eyed his coat with regret. “Shall I bring you another?” he asked skeptically.

“Thank you, no. Miss Easterly-Cummings will forgive my shirtsleeves.”

“I said I would,” Selina murmured virtuously, keeping a firm hold on the still energetic Scamp. As Hooper departed with the misused coat, she turned to Henry. “I feel sure Mr. Rushton is ready for his glass of brandy.”

“I went with McDonough myself to choose the best we had, sir. Selina’s father laid down some very fine brandy a dozen years ago.” As he spoke, Henry poured out a solitary glass and handed it to Rushton.

“You don’t join me?”

Henry flushed. “It makes me sleepy.”

“You’ll need to overcome that failing; and better here than when you come to town with me.”

Obediently, Henry poured himself a glass and sipped at it as he and Rushton discussed boxing. Selina watched suspiciously as Rushton urged another glass on her cousin, but she said nothing. Henry had time to finish the second glass before luncheon was announced and, in honor of their guest, wine was served with the meal. Delighted by the light, heady feeling the brandy had given him, Henry consumed more than his share of the wine at luncheon, and under Rushton’s prodding talked non-stop of his ambitions and interests.

The men adjourned to the drawing room some time after Selina, and she thought Henry much the worse for the unusual quantities of wine he had consumed. Rushton asked politely that she play an air on the pianoforte, and chose the most soporific he could find from the stack of sheets. By the conclusion of the piece, Selina looked up to find Henry slumped down on the sofa, fast asleep.

“He warned you that mid-day drinking makes him sleepy,” she said somewhat tartly. “And it is you who induced him to imbibe so freely.”

“I know. He’ll learn to handle it.”

“Your teaching methods are rather unique, Mr. Rushton. He will also have the headache when he awakes.”

“I’m sure you will see to his rapid recovery. He must learn not to be influenced by others to drink more than he can handle.”

“So you admit you did it on purpose?”

“Not to teach him a lesson, my dear lady. I wished to have an opportunity to talk with you alone.”

“You are an unscrupulous man, Mr. Rushton. If there was some matter you wished to discuss, you need only have asked for a word in private with me. There was no need to involve poor Henry.”

“Poor Henry enjoyed himself enormously, Miss Easterly-Cummings, and you know it. Come and sit here with me.”

Her eyes flashed with rebellion, but she responded to the note of command in his voice and his eyes. He stood waiting for her beside the sofa opposite Henry’s, his hand outstretched. Approaching reluctantly, Selina impetuously seated herself in a chair close to the sofa before she reached him.

“Here,” he instructed patiently, his hand still out.

“I... I am comfortable where I am.”

“You will be more comfortable beside me.” His compelling eyes did not leave her face.

She swallowed nervously and looked about as though for some escape, then rose hesitantly and placed her hand in his. It was lifted to his lips and brushed lightly before he allowed her to seat herself. The sofa was not a large one and she found that his shoulders touched hers, though she thought that was not strictly necessary. His being in his shirtsleeves somehow made their proximity seem intimate, and she began to twist the pillow fringe about her fingers. “You…wished to speak with me?”

“Yes.” But he said nothing further, merely studied her profile, the nervous gestures of her fingers and the rapid rise and fall of her breathing.

“Are you still angry with me for teasing you?”

“No. I apologize for taking you amiss. You may have noticed that I do not possess the most benevolent of tempers.”

“Well, I have, but then I am not precisely even-tempered myself. I... don’t like you being…cross with me.”

“I never am for long.”

“No, I’ve noticed you regain your good humor when you have eaten well.”

Rushton laughed. “Is that why you are forever enjoining a good meal on me?”