“Sit down and hold your tongue,” he said.
Wythe smiled as if the earl had been joking, but Rachel could feel the tension in his body. He resented his cousin’s authority even more than he resented her being at Blackmoor Hall. Maybe he felt as if she was driving a wedge between them. Regardless, the current situation didn’t sit well with him.
“It makes a nice illusion, anyway,” he said. When this drew another sharp glance from Lord Druridge, Wythe ate in silence.
The earl’s eyes flicked to Rachel every few seconds, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Had Wythe’s disapproval made him regret inviting her to dinner? Was he wondering what he would do with her now that she was no longer a servant?
When the meal ended, she stood and curtsied again. “Thank you for supper, my lord.”
She was halfway to the stairs before he said, “I believe you owe me another game of chess, Rachel.”
“Tonight, my lord?”
“Unless you are too tired.”
“No.” She wasn’t tired. She was self-conscious and uncomfortable and unsure where her life was going. She also felt weak in the knees whenever she looked at him, and that scared her more than anything.
“Why did you invite me to dine with you and Mr. Stanhope?”
Truman watched Rachel carefully as he massaged his gloved left hand. In damp weather, it often pained him, had never been the same since the fire. “I’d like you to be comfortable here at Blackmoor Hall, and that means we need to make certain adjustments.”
“But you knew your cousin would feel insulted to be forced to dine with someone of my low station.”
He shrugged. “My cousin is as much a guest in my house as you are. He has no right to object.”
She crossed to the window. “Mrs. Poulson has even less right, and yet she is just as displeased.”
He could see her solemn reflection in the glass. Forever stoic, she seemed willing to brave anything for the sake of her brother. He’d never encountered such unselfishness.
Maybe that was what drew him to her. It was unlike anything he’d ever known from Katherine.
He got up to pour himself a drink. “Mrs. Poulson is not a pleasant individual generally, but my parents thought her presence might ease Wythe’s transition, seeing as he lost both father and mother in so short a time.”
“She was already familiar to him?”
“She has worked for Wythe’s family since he was a babe. Whenever I am tempted to sack her, I remind myself that it would be cruel to deprive my cousin of a servant he values so highly, especially because she is, despite her other faults, efficient.” Not only that but the memory of his cousin struggling to get him out of the house before he could burn to death bound him to behave in certain ways, despite all the disappointment and suspicion that complicated their relationship.
“You are far more generous than most lords.”
“And what do you know of any other lords, Rachel? Any other men, for that matter?” He lowered his voice. “From what I remember, you’ve known only me.”
She flushed at his words. “I am not likely to forget that.”
He tossed back his drink. “Unfortunately, neither am I.”
“Because you now feel obligated to take care of me?”
The fact that she would hate being an unwelcome burden brought the truth to his lips. “Because I crave more of the same.”
At this admission, her mouth dropped open in surprise, but it was better that she feel empowered than he. He had every other advantage. “I-I inquired as to what you expected,” she said. “You haven’t asked me to pay you a visit.”
“No, and I won’t. I will keep my word, because I wouldn’t want you to ‘pay’ me anything. I would be a liar, however, if I said I don’t dream of you coming to me on your own.”
Her eyebrows drew together, marring an otherwise smooth forehead. “You left my room the other night, when you brought the salve.”
“I don’t want your gratitude to be… a compelling force.”
“Why me?”
His voice grew husky. “Are you that unaware of your beauty?”
“I am aware that there are plenty of other women—from high-born ladies to servants to village girls—and that you can have your pick of the lot.”
“So I keep telling myself.” He only wished the promise of “other women” was enough to distract him. “Shall we play?”
She made no move toward the chess set. “I heard your argument with Linley the other morning.”
He’d gotten too worked up, allowed the conversation to get out of hand three days ago. But he’d never had Linley oppose him so stubbornly. “I apologize. Please don’t let anything we said worry you.”
“Even if Mr. Linley is right?”
“About… ?”
“Angering Lady Katherine’s parents.”
Leaning one hip on the edge of his desk, he took a sip of brandy. “You mean further angering them?”
“You should send me off to… to London, as you mentioned once before.”
Even though he feared what might become of her? Even though it was the thought of her that brought him his only happiness? “Is that what you want, Rachel?”
She began to pace. “I would hate to leave Geordie, but—”
Setting his glass aside, he came up behind her. “Then why suggest it? Are you so eager to avoid me?”
She didn’t turn to face him, but she didn’t step out of reach. “If it means you will escape the gallows, yes.”
Unable to resist, he brought her around and caught her face in his hands. “Don’t tell me you are starting to like me, Rachel. I am the village monster, remember?”
Her cold fingers circled his wrists, although he could only feel it on the one that was ungloved. “Someone has to fear for your safety, my lord. It’s not as if you take much care to look out for yourself.”
Wythe accused him of not caring whether he lived or died. He often wondered if that was true. As Linley so often pointed out, he hadn’t been the same since the fire. The long, lonely nights wore on him, the constant soul-searching, the despair of ever finding the answers he craved.
But when Rachel was around he felt new again. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to part with her.
“I have rarely been denied. I fear it has made me no better than Wythe.” Touching her was a mistake. Such close contact turned his blood to fire in his veins, making it difficult to let go. But he did—and put some distance between them. “Do you like the gown?”