His eyes went round. “You? Marrying the earl?”
She frowned as she stared down at her very practical and not particularly nice wool dress. She hardly looked the part. “He asked me today.”
It took her brother a moment to absorb it. “Do you think he was teasing?” he asked at length.
Only those few minutes when they were making love made it feel real. She knew Truman hadn’t been teasing about anything then. “He seemed serious at the time.”
She expected her brother to react with the same shock and skepticism she anticipated from everyone else. But a broad smile curved his lips, and he seemed completely in earnest when he said, “Then he’s a smart fellow, too.”
Grateful for this single token of confidence, Rachel mussed his hair and stepped aside as the carriage rolled past them. “Thank you for that, little brother. God knows how much I needed it.”
“Shall we go eat?”
The thought of confronting Poulson so soon wasn’t appealing. She decided she’d rather put it off—until she became more accustomed to the idea of being Lady Druridge. “No. I want to enjoy the outdoors. Would you mind if we went for a walk along the cliffs instead?” They’d developed a few favorite spots. She wanted to go back to them.
“Not at all. We could always bring the meat pies.”
“You wouldn’t be too cold?”
“Cold! It’s warm compared to what it’s been these past weeks, almost like summer.”
“Good.” Again she felt that reluctance to face Mrs. Poulson. Doing so would wreck her fragile excitement. “Run in and get the food.”
“You want me to get it?”
She chuckled. “If you’re brave enough to manage the earl’s housekeeper.”
“I’m brave enough,” he boasted. “Mr. Grude tells me I’m not to let her bother me one bit. He says some people are naturally unlikable and they’ll get what’s coming to them eventually.”
“That sounds like good advice.” Rachel grinned as she watched him hurry inside. She didn’t think the air was quite as warm as he did, but she could manage until the sun went down, thanks to her cloak.
She stood staring at Blackmoor Hall as she waited. Who would’ve thought this would ever become her home?
“I’ve got it,” Geordie called as soon as he came back out. Sure enough, he carried a hamper.
“That’s a good lad!” she said. “It has certainly been an interesting winter, hasn’t it?”
“A hard winter,” he said. “I wish Mum was around to hear you’re marrying the earl.” His tone was a trifle awestruck.
She slipped her arm through his as they walked around to the back. “I don’t think she’d like it, do you?”
“Look how good he’s been to us. She was wrong about him, Rachel.”
“I think so too,” she said.
Chapter 22
“What did you say?” Wythe addressed a flushed Mr. Tyndale, who’d hurried out to meet him as he slid off his horse.
“Your cousin is going to marry Rachel McTavish!”
The boredom he’d been feeling after spending so many hours in the mine evaporated. “That can’t be true.”
“It is.” Tyndale was obviously pleased. He acted as if Rachel had had the last laugh and he was glad of it. He’d never really cared for Wythe, and Wythe knew it. They came to loggerheads at the colliery all the time. Although the Fore-Overman never dared to expressly disagree—he was far too circumspect for that—Wythe could feel his disapproval and was determined to be free of it. Soon.
“How do you know?”
“I just came from the village. They are saying he broke his betrothal to Lady Penelope and proposed to Rachel. The news is everywhere.”
Tyndale’s excitement irritated Wythe. He couldn’t wait to wreck it. “That pleases you, Tyndale?”
“It does, sir. I have always been partial to Rachel. It is wonderful to see her come out on top for a change.”
“So you’re happy the earl will hang?”
The smile dropped off his face. “Excuse me, sir?”
“That’s what will happen if he marries Rachel. He will go to the gallows. It is just a matter of time.”
His mouth opened and closed twice before any words came out. “It’s not as serious as all that, is it? The earl is… well, he’s an earl. They won’t hang a member of the aristocracy, not without solid proof.”
“The Abbotts are powerful too, Mr. Tyndale.”
“I would never want anything to happen to Lord Druridge,” he said. “I have always respected him.”
“Then you will agree that he is making a terrible mistake. It would be a mistake to marry someone like Rachel even if he wasn’t facing murder charges. She might be beautiful, but a lot of women are beautiful—and they all look the same in the dark.”
“He is obviously in love,” Tyndale responded, instantly defensive.
“Ah, yes, love.” Wythe rolled his eyes. “Is this why you were looking for me? To share the wonderful news?”
“I’m sorry—what did you say?”
The old goat was upset now, enough that his mind had been almost instantly diverted.
“I ran into Cutberth as I was leaving the mine. He said you were looking for me earlier.”
Tyndale yanked on the bottom of his waistcoat. Given how his buttons strained, it was a miracle they held fast. “Yes, I-I was. But everyone thought you’d left.”
“I hadn’t finished searching.”
“You were in the mine? But we finished looking for the paintings this morning.”
He had only been sitting around, draining his flask in an abandoned tunnel, but no one would know that. “I had to check Number 15 stall.”
The look that came over the Fore-Overman’s face was gratifying. Tyndale had regarded the earl with that expression many times, but never Wythe. Part of Wythe wished he deserved the veneration, but he wasn’t one to quibble over details. He had realized long ago that he couldn’t compete with his far-more-noble cousin.
“You went into 15?” Tyndale breathed. “But that could’ve cost you your life. We decided it was too unstable.”
“As I said, the earl’s life is at stake.” Wythe brushed some of the coal dust from his clothes. “We couldn’t ask any of the men to take such a risk, but I felt like we had to be sure.”