Page 56 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
He gripped his tool with steady force, making his exercise seem effortless. Cecilia watched the muscles work in his back, rolling threateningly under his shirt. She felt the show of strength was a warning, but she could not explain why. Cecilia recalled the fight Raphael had recounted to her, between himself and Pincher.
The groom was twice the width of Mr Travers, with a hulking bodythat made her uneasy. With a backhand he could overpower her, and his aura was thick and menacing. She wondered how the stablehands fared under his governance.
“I’d no reason to take Heathersett. I rode the opposite direction on the thoroughfare to Hapthorn.”
When he offered little more than a smile, Cecilia nodded and turned to leave.
“Ah, silly me! But you walk Heathersett, do you not?” he asked suddenly. “Just yesterday I saw you come up from there.”
Her boots ground against the path as she came to a stop. The words were innocent enough, but the implication that she had been spotted wandering around Mr Travers’s domain alone was dangerous. Pincher had no reason to suspect anything. She did not even know his name! She was certain he was only making conversation, trying to get her attention to stroke his ego, or something equally insipid.
Luckily, her knowledge of the area was impeccable. “How very perceptive you are! I did walk home from Heathersett yesterday. I decided to take the long way round when I was walking back from Hapthorn. You must know the small path that cuts between the fields there and winds onto Heathersett. That is where I walked.”
“Naturally, I know it, my lady.” He returned to his labour, seemingly a little downcast. “I know Berilton like the back of my hand. All of its ins and outs, everything that goes on. That is the benefit of a job like mine. Sometimes I think I know more about your family than even they do. Well, I shall not keep you. Good day to you, my lady.”
“Good day to you,” she echoed, wishing him anything but.
Cecilia was so busy dissecting her encounter with the groom that she failed to notice the new set of thoroughbreds stabled beside Nelly.
She trekked the path up to the house, contemplating Pincher’s words. Despite her feelings of awkwardness, she would need to discuss everything with Raphael, and quickly. They had mere days before Radcliff arrived, and who knew whether they would get the chance to see each other after that. She could not leave things between them on such a poor note.
Looking up only when the path forked into the courtyard, she came to an abrupt stop when she heard voices in front of the house.A set of silhouettes were walking the small courtyard in front of Berilton, examining the manor’s façade. Their laughter carried on the wind. Cecilia’s skin prickled over with gooseflesh as it reached her.
One laugh belonged to her father.The other came from the Earl of Radcliff, who had come to Berilton five days early.
Chapter 20
In the four days since their engagement, Raphael had avoided Cecilia to the best of his ability: arriving half an hour early for work, at a time when he knew the lady would yet be seeing to her toilette or breaking her fast; leaving forty-five minutes late when Lady Cecilia would be upstairs primping herself for dinner; making sure to avoid the main drive at lunch for fear of her alighting a carriage.
It was a wicked game, a petulant game, with only one cognizant player and no winners.
The time apart was necessary, in part because Raphael was unsure how he would face Cecilia and mask his feelings for her—feelings of love, certainly, but also of rejection. He still loved her of course. He still physically longed for her to the point it made him sick. But did she love and long for him? Those questions he could not answer.
Naturally, there was not only the issue of Cecilia’s feelings but the Pincher predicament too. Raphael refused to live in ignorance. He could not pretend he had not seen what hehadseen. That is to say, Peter Pincher riding off mere moments after Lady’s Cecilia’s hasty departure from the cottage. He needed time to decided what must be done.
That morning, he had been tasked by the duke with travelling to Cromer to inspect the farmsteads around the Radcliff manse. He had ridden from Berilton, having stabled his horse in the mews in Norwich, where he had hired a coach to take him the rest of the way and back.
Cromer was a quaint enough coastal town, blanketed by muggy sea air. The gulls crooned overhead, but the loudness of their squawking was nothing compared to the constant braying of dock workers and crab fishers around town.
Up and down Church Street they peddled huge, dripping bags of their catch and handfuls of lemons. Who knew where they had procured the fruit! Then came the sand lining the pavement, the smell of pubs, which was mainly the smell of fried fish, the occasional waif, the pier and esplanade . . .Suffice to say, Raphael had never felt more like a Londoner in his life.
He was surprisingly glad when he arrived in the domain of his natural enemy. The Radcliff estate was a favourable spot, all things considered. What farmsteads Raphael managed to inspect were decently manned for the most part and full of potential, but thebuildings werenear crumbling under the weight of that heavy coastal air.
There were untenanted lands nearby which could easily be converted into farms, which meant there was definitely more money to be made—more money than Raphael would see in his lifetime. He would report as much back to the duke.
Making the walk back to Cromer, Raphael indulged himself for a moment and stopped at the end of the drive that led to Radcliff’s home.Radcliff Lodge was half the size of Berilton Court, which meant it wasbiginstead ofgrotesquely massive. The property was comprised of a newer building in the style of those in Mayfair and a much older annex, the sum of which was perched on a cliffside overlooking the water.
If Radcliff got his way, this is where Cecilia would end up. Foolishly, Raphael tried to picture Cecilia in the drive, returning late from parties with her would-be husband, chasing after her would-be children as they weaved between the plum trees. He could not deny that she fit in the picture like the last piece of a puzzle. She was a lady, and she would no doubt want to lead a lady’s life. What did Raphael have to offer except his heart?
He had seen enough.
*
The sun had just ticked to the west when he arrived back in Berilton. He rode past his cottage straight to the stables, squinting against the bright sunlight. As he rounded the corner onto the lane, he was surprised to see a figure blocking the path. There was no way around the man, so Raphael slowed his horse to a trot upon his approach . . .
He should have braved the ditch and taken the field.The man was Peter Pincher.
“Stand aside,” Raphael ordered, stopping his horse with a, “Woah!” before he veered into the groom. “You are in the way.”
