this hour and would have preferred a nip of brandy instead, but he hoped he had forestalled the offer of a glass of cherry wine.
Selina had had time to recover from her anger and to let modesty intrude. She greeted him shyly, her long lashes cloaking the embarrassment in her eyes.
If Richard had thought that the sight of Selina aroused to fury was like a blow to his chest, he discovered now how great a kick she could deliver when shy. The warm firelight bathed her in its gentle glow. It was all Richard could do not to cross the room and take her into his arms.
Fighting this improper thought, which must be carefully analyzed before it ruled his behavior, he turned his back to the fire, welcoming its heat on his aching muscles.
"I have some liniment, if you. . . ."
"No—" he nearly choked at the image her words had raised, even though he knew it to be the result of false hopes. Selina was not offering to apply the liniment herself.
"No, thank you, I am perfectly fine," he said. "I shall not be staying long, just a minute to catch my breath."
"I should thank you, I know, for troubling yourself over Lucas, but you truly should not. Mr. Croft would have taken care of him."
"I know. He was ready to do so until I offered to take his place."
"You did?" Selina whispered softly. "You have been very kind. Much too kind."
"No, I haven't." As Richard waved her gratitude away, he decided he had best give in to his grievances than to his more pressing desires. "I have done what any gentleman would do when faced with the evidence of your distress.
"I cannot imagine," he continued irritably, "why you would put up with such a wastrel as Lucas, when you need a much more capable servant."
Selina's chin jerked up. "I put up with him because at least he will do some of what I need, and there is no one else around."
"No one else? You mean, no one better to employ?" He shook his head. "I cannot believe that. I'm afraid you have given in to pity. You keep him on for fear of what will become of him."
"No, you are wrong." He had truly raised her ire now, as her flashing eyes told him. "The reason I keep him has nothing at all to do with pity. I would abandon him in a trice if I could afford someone else." The force of her words seemed to take her aback. She lowered her eyes. "Well, perhaps not that quickly. But it is true that I would prefer practically anyone to Lucas.
"You see," she admitted, with a twist to her lips, "I cannot truly afford to pay anyone at all, although I can feed Lucas and give him a roof over his head, which no one else seems willing to do. And, in exchange, I at least get some work out of him, as well as the appearance of having a servant, which lends us propriety."
The very notion that Lucas might lend propriety to such a fine lady made Richard balk. "You should get far more from him than that. And I doubt that you need his chaperonage, if that is what you mean by propriety, when you have the deep respect of the entire village."
Selina's expression softened. Her eyes filled, and her lips, if Richard could only taste them, plumped like luscious fruit. "The villagers have been kind. They refuse to accept that we have lost whatever respect our family once deserved."
"You mustn't speak like that. Not in my hearing." Now Richard was angry—with Selina for saying such things, and with himself for being so powerless to help her. "You deserve far more than they give you."
"Why?"
"For going it alone. For facing every day as bravely as a soldier. A most beautiful soldier at that."
Selina blushed, and he bit back further words. Get a grip on yourself, Richard, he told himself. Stop interjecting worthless compliments.
If he were not careful, he would frighten Selina into silence, and above all, he wanted to know more so he could help her.
Changing the subject abruptly, he said, "Augustus spoke of his hopes of going to Eton and Cambridge."
She turned away and noisily cleared her throat. "Yes, he is a bright student.
Selina had had time to recover from her anger and to let modesty intrude. She greeted him shyly, her long lashes cloaking the embarrassment in her eyes.
If Richard had thought that the sight of Selina aroused to fury was like a blow to his chest, he discovered now how great a kick she could deliver when shy. The warm firelight bathed her in its gentle glow. It was all Richard could do not to cross the room and take her into his arms.
Fighting this improper thought, which must be carefully analyzed before it ruled his behavior, he turned his back to the fire, welcoming its heat on his aching muscles.
"I have some liniment, if you. . . ."
"No—" he nearly choked at the image her words had raised, even though he knew it to be the result of false hopes. Selina was not offering to apply the liniment herself.
"No, thank you, I am perfectly fine," he said. "I shall not be staying long, just a minute to catch my breath."
"I should thank you, I know, for troubling yourself over Lucas, but you truly should not. Mr. Croft would have taken care of him."
"I know. He was ready to do so until I offered to take his place."
"You did?" Selina whispered softly. "You have been very kind. Much too kind."
"No, I haven't." As Richard waved her gratitude away, he decided he had best give in to his grievances than to his more pressing desires. "I have done what any gentleman would do when faced with the evidence of your distress.
"I cannot imagine," he continued irritably, "why you would put up with such a wastrel as Lucas, when you need a much more capable servant."
Selina's chin jerked up. "I put up with him because at least he will do some of what I need, and there is no one else around."
"No one else? You mean, no one better to employ?" He shook his head. "I cannot believe that. I'm afraid you have given in to pity. You keep him on for fear of what will become of him."
"No, you are wrong." He had truly raised her ire now, as her flashing eyes told him. "The reason I keep him has nothing at all to do with pity. I would abandon him in a trice if I could afford someone else." The force of her words seemed to take her aback. She lowered her eyes. "Well, perhaps not that quickly. But it is true that I would prefer practically anyone to Lucas.
"You see," she admitted, with a twist to her lips, "I cannot truly afford to pay anyone at all, although I can feed Lucas and give him a roof over his head, which no one else seems willing to do. And, in exchange, I at least get some work out of him, as well as the appearance of having a servant, which lends us propriety."
The very notion that Lucas might lend propriety to such a fine lady made Richard balk. "You should get far more from him than that. And I doubt that you need his chaperonage, if that is what you mean by propriety, when you have the deep respect of the entire village."
Selina's expression softened. Her eyes filled, and her lips, if Richard could only taste them, plumped like luscious fruit. "The villagers have been kind. They refuse to accept that we have lost whatever respect our family once deserved."
"You mustn't speak like that. Not in my hearing." Now Richard was angry—with Selina for saying such things, and with himself for being so powerless to help her. "You deserve far more than they give you."
"Why?"
"For going it alone. For facing every day as bravely as a soldier. A most beautiful soldier at that."
Selina blushed, and he bit back further words. Get a grip on yourself, Richard, he told himself. Stop interjecting worthless compliments.
If he were not careful, he would frighten Selina into silence, and above all, he wanted to know more so he could help her.
Changing the subject abruptly, he said, "Augustus spoke of his hopes of going to Eton and Cambridge."
She turned away and noisily cleared her throat. "Yes, he is a bright student.
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