Taming Rafe (10 page)

As he moved past her, his fingers brushed and momentarily curled around hers. The brief touch of their hands unsettled her as much as the kiss. They were connected in some way, she and Rafe—and she did not need the additional burden of a madman on her hands. What she did want, though, was much less clear.

Unable to move, Felicity looked sightlessly toward the rain-streaked window. Mad or not, he thought she was beautiful. She’d heard the words before, from Deerhurst and Nigel’s nodcock friends. But Rafe had meant them. “Brass hinges.”

His footsteps stopped. “Beg pardon?”

Until he reacted, she hadn’t actually been certain she’d uttered the words aloud. “I want to use the brass hinges that are on the doors now. My great-grandfather took them from an old ruined castle in Spain.”

For a long moment he didn’t say anything, and then she heard him sigh. “Brass hinges, it is.”

F
elicity Harrington was an absolutely remarkable female, Rafe decided as he flattened his thumb for the third time. “Damn blasted bloody…” He trailed off, glancing at May, still seated aboard Aristotle and watching the proceedings with interest. “My, that was painful,” he amended, and she laughed. “Ronald, please hold that board still next time.”

Ronald swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Aye, Mr. Bancroft. On my honor, I won’t move it again.”

Rafe hammered at the twisted hinge again, trying to flatten the thing out. Mostly, though, his mind was occupied by the incident in the dining room. From his side, that kiss had been quite possibly the most memorable one he could recall.

As for Lis—well, she’d clearly been underwhelmed, if all she could come up with afterward was that she wanted the brass hinges back on the doors. She was so far removed from the pretty, pampered, empty-headed misses of society that he had no idea how to deal with her—which made her two things he couldn’t resist: a puzzle, and a beautiful, intelligent woman.

“I think it’s going to take a forge to get those back into shape,” Greetham commented.

The farmer was right, and Rafe supposed he shouldn’t begrudge the five or six shillings it would take to get the job done right. Any estate would be more saleable if it actually had front doors on it. “You’re right. Ronald, will you take them by the blacksmith on your way back to the Childe of Hale?”

“Pleased to, my lord.”

Rafe narrowed one eye. “I’m not—”

“I know, sir,” the boy said, doffing his hat again. “But it was so kind of you to agree to—”

Rafe cleared his throat as Felicity walked through the foyer, a pile of books in her arms. She glanced at him, then continued on her way. “No need to thank me,” he said brusquely as she vanished.

“So says you, my l—er, sir, but I’ve always wanted to be able to ride and jump my horse like a gentleman, like I saw at the Derby that year. It’s grand of you to show me how it’s done.” He grinned and nudged Jennings in the ribs. “Perhaps I’ll enter myself in the Derby next year, eh?”

“Don’t care about jumping,” the tall, lanky farmer said. “Just want my fence mended before Deerhurst’s damned cows eat what’s left of my potato crop.”

“And we’ll see to that immediately,” Rafe reassured him, hoping Felicity wasn’t near enough to overhear just how he had encouraged the locals to “volunteer” their assistance.

All of Forton Hall’s neighbors with whom he’d conversed with had expressed their liking for Felicity and May, just as they’d let him know exactly what they thought of sod-headed Nigel Harrington. And apparently Felicity’s father hadn’t been any more proficient at estate management than his son. Farmers had long memories for maltreatment, and
he couldn’t blame them for their reservations when it came to lending their assistance at Forton.

He also knew these three men would tell everyone in east Cheshire what was going on at Forton, and how the attitude of the residents had changed. That report would either net him the possibility of more help, or if he couldn’t make good on his promises it would make him—and the Harringtons, probably—irretrievably disliked. And even if he were going to sell the place and never set eyes on Cheshire again, he didn’t want that to happen.

The men left a little after sunset. The rain had lessened to a miserable but steady drizzle, and Rafe intended to inform Felicity that he was not, by God, going to sleep out in the stable again.

She had made a sweet potato pie for dinner, and the smell had him salivating. Before he could take his first bite, though, Lis folded her hands primly before her on the pitted kitchen table. The fork halfway to his mouth, Rafe paused, steeling himself for an argument and regretting that he hadn’t at least gotten to taste the masterpiece.

“Rafe,” she began.

Regretfully he set the fork back down. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she continued, her attention on the lit candle in the center of the table, “perhaps you should move into one of the spare bedchambers upstairs. Uncertain as the weather has been, you would be risking influenza if you remained in the stable.”

Rafe stifled a cheer. “I certainly wouldn’t want to make myself ill,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t be able to continue work on the house, if that happened.”

She flushed, a good indication that he’d found her primary concern—and that it wasn’t his health. “I didn’t—”

He nodded, amused at her transparent motiva
tions. “Yes, I suppose staying inside is for the best, though I will miss the squeaking of the rats all night lo—”

The makeshift barricade they’d put up across the front entry shook and rattled. May jumped, grabbing Felicity’s hand, and for a moment Rafe thought Aristotle was attempting an escape.

“I say,” a voice called down the hallway as the sound repeated, “how does one get in here?”

“Lord Deerhurst,” Felicity said, her expression easing. “I’ll see to him.”

Damnation, the man had poor timing
. Rafe pushed away from the table. “
I’ll
see to him,” he countered, rising and heading down the long hallway.

The earl had pried one of the outside boards loose, and he stuck his face into the resulting opening as Rafe arrived.

“Ah, Bancroft. I just came by to check on Felicity,” he said.

“The Harrington ladies are fine,” Rafe answered brusquely, leaning against the barrier and folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, I’d like to see that for myself, if you don’t mind.”

Rafe did mind, very much. “I’m not stopping you,” he said instead.

The earl’s face, craned at an awkward angle to view the interior of the foyer, began to grow red. “You
are
stopping me. Please remove this…barricade.”

Rafe shook his head. “I just got it put up.” Actually, they’d made it easy to swing aside to accommodate Aristotle, but he saw no reason to enlighten Deerhurst about that.

“Let me in at once, I say.” The earl rattled at the boards again.

“Go around.” This was infinitely better than being exiled to the stable.

“I will not.”

“Fine by me, Deerhurst. Is it still raining out there?”

“What is going on?” Felicity stomped into the foyer, her annoyed glare directed at Rafe.

He put on his most innocent expression. “Nothing.”

“Felicity, thank God,” Deerhurst said through the crack in the barricade. “I’d begun to fear this madman had done something foul to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Rafe snorted. “Oh, please.”

“Rafe!”

With another glower, Felicity elbowed him aside so she could lower her face to the earl’s level. Considering that it gave Rafe a spectacular view of her bosom, he didn’t mind all that much.

“My lord, please come around to the kitchen entry and share some sweet potato pie with us.”

Deerhurst smiled. “I would be delighted. Thank you, Felicity.”

When the earl’s face had vanished, she straightened again. “Please stop antagonizing James. He’s a very nice man.”

Rafe held her gaze. “Are you looking to become Lady Deerhurst?” The idea infuriated him, though he wasn’t certain why. It would make selling Forton easier, if Lis had a husband and another home to go to.

Felicity flushed. “That is none of your concern,” she said, and turned on her heel.

“How do you know what concerns me?” He immediately regretted the words, for it made him sound jealous though he’d only known her a few days. Felicity only squared her shoulders and continued back into the kitchen.

The Earl of Deerhurst stood outside the Forton Hall kitchen door, wondering if Felicity was going to make him go through the humiliation of knocking at the servants’ entrance before she let him in. Wading through the mud and drizzle in his new boots, fresh from Hoby’s in London, had done nothing to improve his fraying temper.

Neither did the presence of that bastard Bancroft. The brute deserved a good flogging, and Deerhurst hoped to be present when it was delivered. Finally the door opened, letting the scent of baked chicken and sweet potato pie escape out to the cluttered yard.

“Welcome, my lord,” Felicity said warmly, stepping aside to allow him entry.

“That pie smells delightful.” The earl smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

“It
is
delightful.” Bancroft sat at the tiny kitchen table, half a wedge of pie stuffed into his arrogant mouth.

“Please, have some.”

Felicity motioned him toward the table, and so he took the only seat remaining. Apparently they were all to dine in the kitchen. “Good evening, May,” he said, nodding at her.

“Do you know how many ways there are to kill a man?” she asked, kneeling in her chair and leaning her elbows on the table.

James frowned. Little girls were so…messy. He liked them better after they’d grown. Felicity slid a plate of pie in front of him, and he smiled his thanks. Some of them, he liked
much
better.

“Well, do you know how many?” May insisted.

He waited a moment to give Felicity the opportunity to chastise her sister for her ill manners. When she didn’t, he made a show of tapping at his
chin as though seriously considering her question. “Hm, well, I would say two.”

“Two?” she scoffed.

“Well, yes. Stopping the heart, or stopping the brain.”

Felicity sat opposite him. “Can’t we please discuss the weather or something a little more pleasant, sweetling?”

James smiled. “Of course. The creek seems—”

“There are seventy-three ways to kill a man.”

Annoyed at the continuing interruptions, the earl took a moment to inspect his fork. “I’m sure there can’t be seventy-three,” he said gently. “Now—little girls are meant to be seen, and not heard. Your sister and I were conversing about—”

“There are too seventy-three! Rafe knows them all!”

The earl turned to glare at Bancroft. “I should have known you would be behind this nonsense.”

The rascal pushed his plate away. “Nonsense?”

“It’s complete balderdash, and an utterly inappropriate topic for ladies to be subjected to.”

“I’ll be happy to demonstrate a few of the methods outside for you, then.”

“Rafe!”

“I know number twenty-eight!” May piped in.

“May! That’s enough!”

“Come on, May,” Bancroft said, rising. “Let’s go see to Aristotle.” With a last glance at Deerhurst, he left the room, the little girl skipping along behind him.

Finally
. James looked across at Felicity. “Alone at last.”

She smiled again. “I apologize for May’s high spirits. There’s been an unusual amount of activity here today, and she’s been cooped up inside.”

He patted her hand. “No need to apologize. I
know how difficult it’s been for you. I’m sure if she had a governess she would be much better behaved.”

Felicity took a breath and nodded. “We do what we can.”

“You know I would be happy to hire a governess for her. And a housekeeper for you, my dear. You shouldn’t have to cook for yourself.”

“Thank you, James, but—”

“Whoa, Aristotle! No galloping in the house.”

The earl lifted an eyebrow as May’s laughter echoed into the kitchen. “There is a horse in here?”

She blushed. “Well, yes. Just for tonight.”

With difficulty he refrained from frowning, instead leaning forward and grasping both of her hands in his. “Felicity, please. This is too much. You must listen to reason.”

“James—”

“This is no way for you to live. I insist that you and May come and stay with me at Deerhurst. I ask you to come as my wife, but even if you again refuse me, you are still welcome as my guest. Both of you are.”

She pulled her hands free. He wanted to grab her arms, to convince her that he adored her, but he’d begun to realize that patience had a better effect than bold proclamations. He was beginning to run out of patience, though, and having this Bancroft fellow around to distract her from her situation could only make matters more difficult.

“James, I know you want to help, and I thank you for your continuing kindness, and your compassion. But you know that I will not marry you to secure your assistance with Forton Hall.”

“Then marry me because I love you.”

For a long moment she remained silent. “My
lord, I thank you again for your kind regard. But my duty keeps me here. My brother and my sister need me here, and Forton Hall needs me here. It is my home.”

Hot anger began curling up his spine. “So you’ve said before. And I respect that, of course. Eventually, though, Nigel will marry and May will grow up, and then you will have no place or status here at Forton. Wouldn’t you rather have a place to live near to your ancestral home and to your brother?”

“That’s a cruel thing to say, James.”

“I don’t mean to be cruel; I only mean to be honest. And you need to be honest with yourself.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast, and his heart leaped. Finally she’d seen the sense in what he said. And once she became his wife, the first of his troubles would be over.

“Lis, look what I found.”

Bancroft stood in the doorway, and James flushed, wondering how long the bastard had been there, eavesdropping. “I beg your pardon,” he snapped. “Miss Harrington and I are having a private conversation.”

The blond, scarred interloper ignored him, instead holding up a simple silver necklace in his fingers and keeping his attention on Felicity. “May said it was yours.”

Felicity stood and hurried over to collect the trinket. “Oh, thank you, Rafe! Where in the world was it? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I was taking Aristotle for a short walk, and he knocked over a chair—which was already broken, by the way—and it fell from behind the seat cushion.”

She actually put her hand on the buffoon’s arm
and smiled. “Thank you again. I thought I’d never find it.”

He grinned back at her. “My pleasure.”

Whoever this arrogant ass was, she knew him well enough to call him by his given name. Unable to stand watching the idiotic tripe any longer, James surged to his feet. “I’d best be going, Felicity.”

She turned to look at him. “But James, you haven’t even finished your pie.”