“Would a thousand pounds be adequate?”
“You misunderstand me, Mr. Rushton. I thought Lord Benedict’s offers were high for such a small piece of land.”
“To me the land is worth a thousand pounds. I could spend more on a hunter, Miss Easterly-Cummings. Have we a bargain?” He watched her finger the shawl nervously, perplexed by her agitation. Was he harassing her, after all? She seemed unusually vulnerable. “There is no need to decide right now. I would be grateful if you would think over my offer.”
“Yes, I... I should like to do that. I don’t mean to be contrary; it is just that until this evening I had not really thought of selling it, and I should not like to make a hasty decision. May I send you word in a day or so?”
Selina was not in the habit of hesitating over business decisions. When she had all the facts at her fingertips, she saw no reason to mull over a decision interminably, for it did not make the problem appear any clearer, but often the reverse. There was no reason to withhold her agreement now, but she felt strongly affected by his presence and could not be sure that she would feel the same when he had left. No use pretending that when he fixed one with that compelling gaze it had no influence. Selina decided that he was used to getting his own way, and that rankled, for she would not let him twist her round his thumb, but she would not refuse to sell to him for that reason, either. It
was
a business matter, and her grasping at time to decide was an effort to keep any extraneous issues from coloring her decision.
Unaware that he had risen, Selina found him standing over her and started to her feet. “Forgive me, I have been lost in thought. How very rude of me.”
Rushton found her delightful in her confusion, and smiled. “Think nothing of it, Miss Easterly-Cummings. I had just said that I will look forward to hearing from you, and that I thought it time I took my leave. Thank you for a delicious meal. I hope your dog has enjoyed those dishes we did not.”
“Oh Scamp will eat anything, the graceless pup. Henry even feeds her turnips. I appreciate your bringing him home, Mr. Rushton, and for keeping an eye on him today.”
“I only wish we might have prevented the accident, but these things do happen.”
Her face clouded and the brown eyes grew troubled once more. “Yes, of course.” She gave a firm tug to the bellpull. “Did he have so much brandy that he will feel wretched tomorrow?”
“I doubt it, though if he is totally unfamiliar with such strong spirits. . .” He eyed her questioningly.
“No. No, he has had brandy any number of times before.” Selina turned to McDonough as he entered. “If you would show Mr. Rushton out, please.”
When Selina offered Mr. Rushton her hand, he had an unaccountable desire to lift it to his lips, but satisfied himself with pressing it gently before he reluctantly let it go, only to watch it flutter nervously to tug the shawl tightly about her.
Selina looked up from the breakfast table to survey her cousin. “How are you feeling this morning, Henry?”
He screwed his face into a grimace. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live. My arm aches like the devil.” A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. “Do you think I could convince Dr. Davenport that I was unable to do my lessons because of it?”
“No, I don’t. It’s not even your writing hand.”
“True, but I could tell him that the agony of it distracted me too much.”
“Henry, he has already cut your lessons in half. Have you written to Lord Leyburn?”
“Not yet.” When she frowned, he hastened to add, “I have not found the best way to phrase my wishes as yet. I’ve tossed a dozen sheets on the fire.”
“Perhaps I could help you later.” Her eyes wandered toward the window where a warm sun was at work melting the snow. “Do you think I should sell the vale to Mr. Rushton?”
Henry lifted his brows comically. “Never say you have reconsidered! I thought your word in business matters was law.”
“Mr. Rushton pointed out that his construction project would provide numerous jobs for the men hereabouts. You know that has no little influence with me, Henry. I really have no use for the vale, except for walks and picnics, and as you said, there are other places for that. I have never wished to sell the vale to Lord Benedict because. . . I just never have,” she said abruptly. “The case is different with Mr. Rushton. Lord Benedict would not build anything there, but would likely clear it and use it for grazing land as he does the areas around it.”
“And Rushton would build a hunting-box? Lord, you should see him in the field, Selina. Even Sir Penrith can’t top a flight of rails with such ease. And almost no one else even tried to jump the brook. I know I didn’t. Perhaps when I have had more experience, but not now.”
Delighted to learn that her cousin had shown some caution the preceding day, Selina smiled. “I’m pleased that you enjoyed yourself. If you take care of your arm, I imagine it won’t be so very long before you’ll be able to repeat the experience.”
“And you won’t mind? Even after what happened this time?” he asked incredulously, his toast suspended half way to his mouth.
“I will become accustomed, I feel sure,” she returned ruefully. “About the land, Henry. You see no objection to my selling it?”
“No, how could I? It’s a lovely spot, but entirely cut off from the rest of Shalbrook. Might as well let someone have the use of it, and if you don’t want to sell it to Lord Benedict, why not Rushton? He’s a good chap.”
“Is he? I suppose so. He has made a generous offer for the land, and I have a mind to accept it. There are several projects which I had been contemplating, and I would not give a second thought to starting them with the additional funds. Some charities further from home than usual. I have a mind to drive over to have a look at the vale before I decide. Would you like to come?”
“In the sledge?”
“Yes, for the way the sun is shining, we won’t have the use of it very long. Perhaps it would be too rough on your arm, though.”
“A sight more comfortable than the phaeton in this weather, but the road is likely to be unfit for it.”
“We’ll drive across the fields and look at it from our side of the road.”
After their easy-paced drive, however, Selina found she was not content to view the land from a distance. “Would you walk the horses a minute while I have a look?”
“Dash it, Selina, you can’t go climbing over that fence. You’ll break your neck.”
“Now look who’s being the mother hen!” she taunted and flounced out of the sledge. Her boots sunk into the mushy snow, and she squealed as the wetness assailed her legs.
“I told you so,” Henry mocked.
“No, you didn’t. You said I would break my neck climbing over the fence.” She stomped away from him to the whitethorn fence with its shallow ditch. The binding was done with brambles, and though the fence was now more than ten years old, it was not really fully grown, though it was very nearly cattle-proof. Some of the shoots of the bullfinch were eight or nine feet high, and they were protected by a rail on both sides. Having no wish to scratch herself needlessly, Selina pulled herself onto the rail before attempting to ease through the shoots, which were further apart at that height. When she could tentatively place a foot on the further rail, she ducked her head and made the plunge. Unfortunately, her cloak became hopelessly entangled in the brambles, and in attempting to free it, she tumbled off the further rail into the snowy road, the cloak hideously snagged.
“I see you have not changed, Selina,” remarked the horseman who leaped down to assist her to her feet. “If I am not mistaken, Shalbrook is provided with a very wide gate through which most people gain the road.”
There was no need to look up into the sardonic face; Selina would have known the voice anywhere. “Well, Frank, you know I am not like most people,” she replied as she inspected the ruination of her cloak. “Though I would not have done it if I had thought to sustain such a catastrophe, you understand. This is the only really warm covering I own.”
“I should think you would own a dozen just to sit around your medieval fortress,” Lord Benedict rejoined. “Whatever were you trying to prove?”
At last she looked at him, noting the fair hair escaping from under his curly-brimmed beaver. “I had a desire to have a look at the vale before I sold it.”
His hazel eyes sharpened with interest. “You have finally decided to accord me my fondest wish then?”
“No, Frank. I plan to sell it to a friend of Sir Penrith’s.”
An angry glitter shone in his eyes. “You are doing this to annoy me.”
“Am I? I wonder. No. I cannot think so, for when the gentleman first asked, I did not agree. But you see, he intends to build a hunting-box which will provide some much-needed employment in the neighborhood.”
Lord Benedict gripped her arm ungently. “You know I am willing to pay more for it than some crazy
foxhunter,
Selina. That vale belongs with my land.”
“We have been over this a dozen times, Frank,” she said wearily, shaking off his hand. “I won’t sell the land to you.”
“You
are a stubborn, capricious, self-willed woman!” he cried, slapping his whip against his leg. “Thank God you broke our engagement, or we might at this very moment be married.”
“But then the vale would be yours,” she said sweetly, as she stooped to retrieve her cap from the road.
“That would have been too great a price to pay,” he returned coldly, his eyes raking her as she put the nun-like cap on her curls.
“I know. Do not let me detain you longer, Frank. I know you are a busy man.” She offered her hand and a patently insincere smile.
He accepted neither, but stood scowling at her. “How much did he offer you? I will pay double the figure to save myself the bother of tearing his house down when he finally agrees to sell to me.”
“Ah, but, Frank, a condition of the sale is that I have first refusal should he ever decide to sell.”
“This is your idea of revenge, I suppose,” he grated, the hazel eyes blazing. “Hell hath no fury...”
“Like a woman scorned.”
“I did not scorn you. It was you who refused me.”
“Do you still tell yourself that?” she asked softly. “It must be quite a salve to your conscience. Good day, Frank.” Without a backward glance, she crossed the road and climbed the flight of rails into her property, where she stood with her rigid back to him until at last she heard the sound of his horse moving forward. Not until she was sure, from the quiet that descended on the scene, that he was gone did she turn to gaze in the direction taken. Dry-eyed but shaken, she wondered how she could still be so easily discomposed by him. It was years since they had parted. And was it true what he said: that she would sell the land to Rushton as a means to hurt her former fiancé. Thirty stupid acres of no great value were turning into a wretched strain on her emotions. Why had her peaceful life suddenly been turned into upheaval, first by Henry, and then Rushton and now Frank? The lesson to be learned from it, she thought bitterly, was that men were the very devil of a nuisance.
Her gaze wandered over the vale and she could hear the sound of the stream and the dripping from the trees as the snow melted. It was a lovely sight, and it entirely failed to soothe her. Remembering that poor Henry was walking the horses on the other side of the obscuring fence, she determinedly made her way back over the rails and across the road. The scramble through the briars did nothing to improve her temper; she got a nasty scratch across her chin, and she knew the moment she saw his face that Henry had heard every word of her conversation with Lord Benedict.
Chapter Seven
Henry extracted a large linen handkerchief from the depths of his greatcoat and patted at the cut on her chin, though his eyes never left hers. “Could you tell me what that was all about, Selina?”
“Lord Benedict has wanted to buy the vale for years, and I will not sell it to him. I fear he was very annoyed to learn that I am going to sell it to Mr. Rushton.” Hard as she tried, she could not meet his gaze.
“There is apparently a great deal more to it than that,” Henry suggested as he handed her into the sledge. “You know I am not one to pry, Selina, but you were very. . . harsh with him. Not that he was not the same! Still, it is so unlike you to carry a grudge. I don’t remember much about your being engaged to him.”
“It was a very long time ago, Henry, and best forgotten. There may be some truth in what he says. Certainly I would never have sold him the vale, though I honestly did not consider selling to Mr. Rushton with the thought of irritating Lord Benedict. Or, at least, I don’t think so. I cannot recall that I thought much one way or the other about his lordship’s reaction, though I should have. But when he pinched at me that way, I could not resist inserting the barb. How very intemperate of me! But I am always that way with him. A decided flaw in my character,” she sighed with an attempt at lightness.
“He did something to hurt you,” Henry suggested astutely.
Selina bit her lip as she gathered the reins. “Yes, he did something to hurt me. I should have forgiven him by now, I suppose, though there has never seemed any reason to do so. He continues to bait me as though the whole episode were of my making, and that invariably annoys me. I would prefer not to discuss it further, Henry.”
“Certainly, my dear.”
They drove home in silence, the sledge gliding over the slippery surface without pause. As they left the stables, Selina commented, “I fear we may not have use for the sledge for a while now, but at least it will be ready for the next snowfall.” She fingered the snagged cloak with chagrin. “I shall have to repair this, if I can, but it looks hopeless.”
“That will teach you to climb through fences,” Henry laughed. “And your cap is muddy. I sadly fear you will have to destroy it this time.”
“Ho, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Well, I have others, my dear Henry, so you needn’t get your hopes up.”
Henry felt relieved that she had recovered her spirits enough to tease him. Seldom in the years he had spent with her had he seen Selina in the sullens, and he realized suddenly that she must often suffer from loneliness with only his company. A spirited, attractive young lady such as she should be caught up in the whirl of country Society, attending dinners, balls, excursions. There should be a circle of young men in attendance on her and other young ladies with whom she shared her secrets and dreams. Without thinking what he was saying, he blurted, “It is because of me, isn’t it?”