Page 42 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“But you looked as though you wanted to,” he offered.
She shook her head. “You must be mistaken, my lord.”
“I must be,” he agreed serenely and said no more.
As they rode along, mile after mile, she discovered it was not an uncomfortable silence.I could almost like this, she reflected,even though I suspect I am boring company. This is a peer used to card rooms, and clubs, and teas, and drawing rooms, and levees, and balls. I hope he will not fall asleep because I am so dull, and dump himself off his horse.She smiled at the thought.
“Yes?” Lord Ragsdale asked.
She laughed in surprise. “You must have eyes in the back of your head,” she protested.
“Nope. Just one on the left, but it does yeoman’s duty. What’s so amusing?”
Obviously there was no point in holding back. “I was just picturing you ejected from your horse and supine on the ground, bored into sleep because I am a dull conversationalist.”
He shook his head. “On the contrary, Emma, I was about to congratulate you on the pleasure of your silence. Do you know that just since the beginning of this interminableSeason, I have heard every stupid conversation that people such as myself utter? I am sure that the things we say over and over, thinking ourselves so witty, must be written somewhere on clay tablets.” He looked her in the eye then. “You may reform me too completely, Emma. Suppose I become addicted to long silences and rational conversation that leads somewhere? Imagine the shock to my friends.”
He joined in her laughter. “Seriously, Emma, we are half-way to luncheon, and you have not made one single remark about the weather, fashion, or the latest gossip.”
“What would you like to talk about, my lord?” she asked finally. “Weather, fashion, or gossip?”
He reined in his horse, and she was compelled to stop too. “My father, Emma. Please.”
Chapter 13
But ... but ... yourmother tells me ... I thought you did not wish to speak of him,” she stammered. The mare sensed her sudden agitation and stepped in a dainty half circle. She patted the animal into control, searching for the right words. “I mean, your mother, your banker, David Breedlow even—they all warned me not to bring up the subject.”
He spoke to his horse, and they continued. “They are wrong,” he said finally when they were some distance in front of the carriage, and he could slow the pace slightly. “It may have been my choice at one time, but I find now that avoiding the topic breaks my heart.”
His words were so simple and so full of feeling that they went straight to her own heart. As she rode beside Lord Ragsdale, Emma realized that she would never be able to look at him in the same way again. It was powerful knowledge and left her almost breathless.What do I say to this man?she wondered. He was looking at her, as though expecting something, and as she searched her mind for something to say, she thought of her mother, that woman of few words and much heart.
“Tell me, my lord,” she said simply, remembering with an ache those calm words spoken to her so many times.
“I think he must have been the best man who ever lived,Emma,” Lord Ragsdale said, with a glance over his shoulder as though he feared his mother could hear him. The carriage was only a speck in the distance. He cleared his throat and smiled ruefully down at his saddle. “But I suppose that is part of the problem.” He reached over and touched her arm. “Have you ever tried to measure up to an impossible ideal?”
She considered his question and understood him for the first time. She smiled at him and shook her head. “We were all so human in the Costello household, my lord. I ... I was the only daughter, and my brothers either ignored me or were happy I was nothing like them.”
He nodded. “I imagine it was a lively household, Emma. Perhaps you will tell me about it some time.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, trying to keep the doubt from her voice. “But we are speaking of you and your father, sir, are we not?”
“We are. He was all goodness, all manners, impeccable in character and possessing every virtue, I think. I was a younger son for much of my early years, thank goodness, so the onus of perfection rested on my brother. Claude was very much like Father.”
He paused then, and she had the good sense not to rush into the silence.Perhaps I am learning wisdom, she thought as she watched Lord Ragsdale struggle within himself.
“Claude died when I was at Harrow, and then Father transferred his entire interest to me.”
Again there was a long silence.Quiet, Emma, she told herself as they rode along, side by side.
“I don’t mean to say he wasn’t interested in me before, Emma, but this was different.” He shook his head. “I am probably not making much sense, but that’s how it was. Claude died of a sudden fever, and overnight, I was the family hope.”
He looked at her. “There are some things that the heir learns that I never learned. I suppose it becomes a way of life. Too bad I was a poor student.”
Two weeks ago—a week ago even—she would have agreed with him.This is odd, she thought as they rode along.I want to defend him from himself, and he is someone I do not even like.She looked at the sky; it was still overcast. She could not blame her strange thoughts on too much sun. Her next deliberation came unwillingly, but she considered it honestly as Lord Ragsdale rode beside her in silence.Can it be that I have nourished myself so long on hatred that I do not recognize an attempt at friendship? I cannot even remember my last friend.
It was a shocking thought, almost, but instead of dismissing it, as she would have done only recently, she allowed herself the luxury of considering it.That is what I will do, she thought.I will leave myself open to a change of feeling.She nodded.It is a prudent measure, taking into allowance the plain fact that I must serve this man until he considers my debt paid.
“Emma, what on earth are you thinking?”
