A Country Affair (2 page)

Richard did smile. Wilfrid's gall, his unbridled ambition and greed—when anyone else would have been satisfied with his rank—never failed to leave him laughing.

"My heart bleeds for you, cousin. But I do have a word of advice. If your aspirations to be a peer are so formidable, you might think of trying to earn a peerage. There ought to be room for a gentleman of your calibre in the army, and blast me, if I wouldn't be happy to purchase you a pair of colours, myself!"

Richard's offer failed to brighten Wilfrid's hopes. "Don't be ridiculous, cousin," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Even if I had a mind for the army—and the very thought of it makes me shudder—the army would never consider a man of my age and noted infirmities."

"Infirmities? If you are so infirm, Wilfrid, I am astonished at the hours you keep."

Wilfrid smiled smoothly. "But I keep telling you, Richard. I cannot refuse Prinny anything. Why, even now, he has need of my company in Brighton."

"Brighton in the winter?" Richard shook his head. "You astonish me, Wilfrid."

"But he does, dear boy. Something about a new wing. Seeking a diversion, I suspect. Still torn up about Brummell, don't you know."

"The Regent's feelings do not concern me at the moment. I would be far more interested to hear what you intend doing about these debts."

"Doing?" Wilfrid blinked. "I do not see that I can afford to do anything about them, if you do not mean to pay them."

"You can hardly afford to do nothing. Have you given any thought to employment?"

"I— ?" Wilfrid's expression suggested that Richard had made the cleverest joke imaginable. "Dear boy. There is no employment on earth, at least to my knowledge, that would contrive to pay such a mountain of debts."

Richard leaned back in his chair and let his gaze sweep his cousin from his pomaded locks to the tips of his tasselled boots. "You might reflect upon that fact, dear cuz," he said in biting accents, "when next you sit down to the card table. Or when you next place an order to your wine merchant."

Wilfrid could not fail to hear the searing tone in Richard's voice, and even he appeared somewhat contrite. "Certainly, cousin, if you wish it, I shall reflect upon those points."

"And you will oblige me by not insinuating again that I am at death's door."

"You exaggerate. I am certain I never used those precise words."

"Near enough as makes no difference." Richard stood. "And now, dear cousin, I believe I have enjoyed your company enough for one day."

As Wilfrid stood, his smile of farewell did not reach his eyes, and Richard perceived that his words would have no lasting effect upon his cousin's comportment.

At least, he thought not. But, then, Wilfrid turned at the door with a serious look.

"Before I forget, cuz. What do you mean to do about that upstart Payley? Ignore him, I hope?"

Richard started to agree, but then he paused. The letter still rankled. He had received no satisfaction from Wilfrid, and his temper had not been appeased. It was bad enough to have one scoundrel abusing his name without another one added.

"I suppose," he said, silently proposing a journey to himself, "that I shall have to look into the matter."

Wilfrid laughed, but his laughter had an edge to it. "Oh, surely, cousin, you do not think there is any merit in his claim?"

"Of course I do not. But I think Mr. Augustus Payley should be spoken to for his presumption."

"Then let me speak to him," Wilfrid surprised him by saying. "Uckfield is on the way to Brighton, or so I believe. I should be most happy to perform this commission for you."

His offer had been made so quickly as to sound sincere, but Richard reflected that his cousin might be hoping for some sort of reprieve—a loan perhaps, or even a payment of his debts, if he rendered Richard this service.

"No, thank you, Wilfrid. I think I shall handle this situation myself. I seem to be rather in the mood to demand satisfaction."

"Plan on calling him out?" A gleam lit Wilfrid's eye.

"Call out a farmer? Not. . . one of us?" Richard stressed. "You must be joking, Wilfrid. And, here, I had been thinking you had not been blessed with a sense of humour.

"No," Richard continued, thinking aloud, "I simply mean to confront this Augustus Payley and rid him of the idea that he can use my name at will."

Wilfrid seemed reluctant to leave it at that. "Then I hope you mean to teach him a serious lesson. And, if I may be of any help whatsoever, I beg you will write to me in Brighton."

"Certainly, I shall. I could not forget the depth of your family feeling."

A glint hardened Wilfrid's eyes. "Do not underestimate it, Richard. My little foibles are as nothing when compared to this gross encroachment. I beg again that you will let me tend to it."

Taken aback by the strength of Wilfrid's feelings, Richard moderated his tone. "I appreciate your interest, but your methods are not likely to be the same as mine, so I prefer to see to this myself."

His offer having been so firmly refused, Wilfrid shrugged. "As you will. Your servant, cousin."

As he showed himself out, Richard stared after him, and a rare feeling of dismay swept through him. Wilfrid had left, not the least bit abashed. Richard had no doubt that his cousin would take up where he had left off with no change at all in his behaviour.

And it did not matter that he was regarded by most to be a thoroughly undeserving character. Richard was obliged to support him. A gentleman was frowned upon for mistreating his heir, and, in truth, Wilfrid did nothing worse than many of his contemporaries. If the Regent himself found Wilfrid charming—and Richard scoffed at the thought— what could he do to make him feel otherwise?

The source of his dismay, he knew, was the niggling thought that Wilfrid just might succeed him if he failed to provide another heir. Men Richard's age died all the time, and many an elderly man had succeeded a younger one. In spite of his good health, Richard knew he could break his neck on a hunt or a carriage race, whereas Wilfrid took great care never to court any physical danger.

What was needed was a wife. Richard admitted to himself that his search for one had grown more serious of late. The need to supplant Wilfrid was always in his mind, but an even stronger motive, he realized, was his more recent desire for companionship. A man grew weary of nothing but frivolous pursuits once the first energy of his youth had been spent. Trouble was, the longer he looked for his ideal companion, the more unlikely it appeared that he would find her.

The fresh, young faces that were trotted out every social season were looking more and more the same. Richard thought that if he had to attend one more ball, he might take to serious drink.

The letter in his hand caught his attention once again, bringing with it a new wave of irritation. And now, this Payley scoundrel. Richard’s family obligations were enough to throw even the most cheerful fellow into the dismals.

The thought of facing Payley down cheered Richard immensely. If nothing else a trip into Sussex would get him out of London. He had a mind to ride his horse all the way to Uckfield, in spite of the winter season, leaving his coach and servants behind.

A rigorous journey on horseback would be the very thing he needed to cure him of his malaise.

Chapter Two

Brisk, cold weather and the sight of open countryside—however bleak and leafless it was—did restore Richard to his usual equanimity. He had left London behind with all its tedious formalities. Even his change in dress came as a relief, for one could not go jaunting about the countryside in January dressed like a pink of the ton. His woolen breeches, waistcoat and jacket made him look more the country gentleman, and only the magnificent cut of his caped redingote divulged the status of its wearer.

He had left well before dawn, and a brisk day of traveling brought him to Uckfield in time for dinner. Uckfield proved to be a small hamlet of little distinction, due without doubt to its distance from the turnpike road. By the time Richard arrived, he was ready for a warm drink, even though the ocean currents that warmed Sussex had kept his fingers and toes from freezing.

He headed for the inn—a modest place, unused to the carriage trade by the look of it—where he found he had to stable his own horse. Unable to locate a blanket, he tossed his redingote over the beast. Emerging from the stable, minutes later, he had to dodge a pair of boys and their dog who had started a footrace in the yard.

The innkeeper soon had Richard ensconced in his taproom by the fire, since no private parlours were to be had in such a small establishment. The inn was poor, but the owner, Mr. Croft, seemed a respectable sort of fellow. And Richard could be satisfied not only with his dinner, but also with the rum punch the man concocted, at an hour when most of his customers would normally be tending their livestock.

Richard waited until the rum had seeped into his bones and warmed him from the inside out before inquiring where he might find Mr. Augustus Payley, Esq.

"Ye want the Squire?" the good-natured Mr. Croft asked, obviously surprised.

"If that is how Mr. Payley is known hereabouts," Richard replied in a voice that said he was not used to having his wishes questioned. Then, relaxing, he reasoned that in all fairness he had not given Mr. Croft his name or his rank.

The innkeeper laughed on an apologetic note. "Sorry, sir. It's just that ye fair took me aback, askin' about our Squire in that sort o' way."

Something about the manner in which Mr. Croft had said "our Squire" struck Richard as odd.

But before he could ask why the manner of his query had astonished his host, Mr. Croft continued.

"I can direct ye to him all right. If ye want to follow me this way." The burly man set down the cloth he had been using to polish his tables and led Richard to a small window at the front of the inn.

"There be the Squire," he said, pointing out into his yard.

Richard had to bend nearly in half to see through the low glass, and when he did, he saw nothing but the two boys and dog, who by this time had finished their race. Now they were engaged in a spirited game of tag, instead, with the spaniel an energetic third player.

Richard looked about for a gentleman. Then, the earlier note in the innkeeper's voice recurred to him, and he thought he knew why the man had used it.

"Would Mr. Augustus Payley be one of those two young scamps?" he asked.

Mr. Croft laughed. "Aye, sir. Now, ye see why ye confounded me for a moment. Ye sounded so formal like. Ay”—he gestured towards the boys with a nod, which, though fond, contained a measure of pride as well—“that be our Squire. He be ten years old, or thereabouts."

"Which of the boys is he?"

Mr. Croft's honest face displayed shock at Richard's failure to recognize Quality when he saw it. "Oh, that be plain as day, sir! That littler boy, now, the one with the red muffler, that be my son, Johnny. T'is the other be the Squire."

It was clear that the very idea of confusing the two boys had greatly discomfited Mr. Croft, but indeed, there was little to choose between the two. Both were dressed in baggy, woolen breeches and knitted waistcoats, beneath which rough linen shirts could be seen. The only distinguishing marks between them were the color of the mufflers wound about their necks and, perhaps, the degree of blondness exhibited by each. Mr. Croft's Johnny was a tow-head, where Augustus already showed a tendency for his hair to turn brown.

For a moment, Richard watched the two cavorting outside, wondering on what sort of a fool's errand he had come. If the "Squire" was ten years old, then who had written the application?

Mr. Croft had gone back to polishing his tables in preparation for his evening customers. Richard thought of asking for more particulars about the Payleys, then decided against this course. Where family matters were concerned, the fewer outsiders involved the better, and until he knew who had been using a boy to cover his own nefarious dealings, Richard would rather keep the news to himself. Something fairly havey-cavey seemed to be going on.

Meaning to question the boy, he bent to look outside the window again, but the "Squire" had disappeared. The innkeeper's Johnny had fetched an axe to split logs.

"Your Squire appears to have decamped," Richard remarked idly to his host.

Mr. Croft checked his timepiece. "Yessir. It'll be time for milking up at The Grange, and Mr. Augustus be a good one for remembering his chores."

"Is he now? And The Grange, I take it, is the Payley estate?"

Mr. Croft confirmed this and, after giving Richard directions to The Grange, agreed to his borrowing a gig while his own horse rested.

With Johnny's help, the gig was readied, and Richard soon found himself urging the inn's one horse up a road deeply rutted by cartwheels. Lurching and bumping with each rut, he reached the crest of a short hill and immediately spotted Augustus trudging homeward. The boy, who appeared to be in a vast hurry, was stumbling over the ruts in his haste.

Richard lightly flicked the horse on the back with the reins and, in spite of the dismal road, soon overtook him.

"May I offer you a ride?" Richard said, as the boy turned to see who was passing him.

"Yessir! Thank you, sir!" Wreathed in smiles, Augustus clambered onto the seat beside him. His head was bare, and the winter's setting sun picked out the golden highlights in his hair.

If Richard had not been on guard, he would have been disarmed by the boy's frank gratitude. As it was, he had to fight a strong urge to smile back at him.

"Have you far to go?" Richard said, clicking to the horse, though the innkeeper had already told him the distance to The Grange.

"No, it's not much farther. Just another mile up this road. I walk it all the time, but I left a little later than I should have, which makes me doubly glad you came along when you did, sir."

They bucked down the road for a moment in silence, before Richard asked, “And whom do I have the pleasure of conveying?"

Augustus flushed and bobbed his head in the best bow he could manage under the perilous circumstances. "Your pardon, sir, I ought to have introduced myself. Augustus Payley, Esq., at your service."