Page 29 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 11
Andrew glanced over his shoulder as he rode. It was morning, and he had almost forgotten he had promised Neville that he would accompany him to the new wall that was being built on a stretch of Neville’s farmland. Someone needed to inspect it, and it was a good ride. He tightened his grip on the reins, a flicker of annoyance flashing through him.
He had wanted to stay at breakfast and talk to Emmeline.
He sighed inwardly as he watched Neville ride over. His friend was an adept rider, leaning slightly forward and guiding the horse effortlessly with his movements. He reached the place where Andrew had halted quickly.
“I say, old chap! That was a fine speed,” Neville called cheerfully.
“Mm,” Andrew grunted. “We ought to be on our way.”
Neville grinned. “Impatient, eh?” he teased. “Have you an urgent appointment with your solicitor?”
Andrew shot him a sharp look. “No, as it happens. My solicitor has been rather quiet of late.” The quietness was in part due to the fact that the debts were being settled. The twenty thousand pounds was being distributed fast, but his solicitor assured him that more than half of it would remain for much-needed improvements to the estate.
“That’s grand news!” Neville exclaimed. “Just the thing.”
Andrew grunted again. “Indeed.”
Neville kept his horse in step as they rode on down the path. It was easily wide enough for two riders on this stretch, and so there was no reasonable reason to ask him to go away, or Andrew would have. He looked moodily around. He had woken early, filled with delight. He had slept for almost a week with no nightmares—ever since Emmeline arrived at the manor, he had not had a nightmare to speak of. He let out a sigh.
He was dreaming more of Emmeline, too. Not just the odd imagining in the middle of the day—imagining brushing a stray curl from her neck, or what her hair might smell like—but night-time dreams. He had slept untroubled by visions of Grandfather, and that was a relief he could not describe.
“A fine morning,” Neville remarked brightly as they rode. “Just the day for a jaunt.”
“Mm.” Andrew looked at the path. It was through the middle of a woodland, oak trees and other broad-leaved trees towering on either sideof them. He tried to think of something to say. “It is,” he said, not knowing what else he might comment on the fine morning. It was indeed a fine morning, the sky hidden by a light layer of clouds, but the air was still warm and just the faintest trace of dew cooled the slight breeze.
“Pity Emmeline could not join us, eh?” Neville asked after a few minutes of peace. Andrew glared at him.
“Emmeline is tending to Grandma,” he said firmly. He had wanted to ask her on a ride, but he wanted it to be just himself and Emmeline, not with Neville there. He loved his friend dearly—he was almost a brother—but there were still some things he would rather do by himself, and riding with Emmeline for the first time was such an event.
“She is?” Neville looked surprised. “That’s grand. I dare say it should do them both a world of good.”
“Mm,” Andrew agreed. He had not mentioned to Neville what happened when Grandma had choked a few days ago—that moment when Emmeline had smiled at him had been glorious and confusing. Since then, he and she had exchanged a few smiles, and it troubled him.
He did not want to be so close to her.
“Look. There we are,” Neville murmured, changing the subject of conversation just as Andrew was about to mention Emmeline. “We’re getting close. They had to bring the stone across that bridge with the wagons. A hard job that was, I imagined.”
“Mm.” Andrew drew in a breath. “Emmeline is a capable rider,” he remarked after a beat, as Neville made no further mention of the masons and their wretched wagons.
“Is she? Did you ride together? How grand!” Neville’s expression brightened with evident delight.
“No. We did not,” Andrew said, feeling guilty. Neville looked so pleased that he almost wished he had, just to please him. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About riding?” Neville asked. Andrew could almost swear he was deliberately missing his point.
“No. Dash it, Neville. About her. About Emmeline,” he blurted.
“Ah, pardon me, old chap.” Neville inclined his head contritely. “Whatever troubles you, you know you can confide in me.”
“I already have,” Andrew said with a touch of annoyance. “I mean about me. About what I feel. I don’t know what to do.”
“Andrew, old chap,” Neville sighed. “You need to tellher. Not me. You need to trust her more.”
“Trust her?” Andrew frowned. He hadn’t even considered whether or not he trusted Emmeline. Trust was not the issue. The person he did not trust—the person who terrified him, who seemed to carry around bad fortune and curses—was himself, not Emmeline.
“Yes. She is strong. I cannot claim to know her well, but that much is plain. You can trust her.”
