Page 31 of Reforming Lord Neil

Going down that path with his thoughts would lead nowhere. But all his thoughts seemed to take him that direction of late. Trying to determine why his father had leaped upon the opportunity to banish Neil had no explanation he could turn up. He could write to his brothers, but neither of them were ever interested in anyone outside of themselves. They would likely take his father’s part. Whatever it was. Maybe he ought to write some of his acquaintances in London, though they might spurn him as those in the country had done. Leaving him, again, nowhere.

The saw seemed to laugh at him as he pushed it through each branch. The push made a shush sound, the pull a harsher growl, and when the movement was fast enough he heard the word in the work: nowherenowherenowhere.

The branch fell, and Neil climbed down the ladder and went to the next tree. He looked up and found a branch devoid of leaves, far above the reach of the ladder. That meant he would need to climb into the branches as he had when picking cherries. But the work would be more difficult, moving the saw.

With a shrug, Neil reconciled himself to the climb. Up he went, thoughts still circling.

His birth, the marquess, his heartless family, were all better forgotten.

That left him to think on Teresa and her situation. Despite what she believed, he doubted her husband had been a true gambler. And one or two nights of bad luck would not have left the family in such financial straits. There was more to that story than Teresa knew, and the appearance of her brother-in-law the previous week only made Neil’s suspicions grow.

But he doubted Teresa would speak to him of any of it.

Stubborn woman.

And since his last conversation with her on the subject had led to her cool temperament, he had no wish to revisit the matter.

It was all a mess.

He pushed the saw into the branch, pulled back on it roughly, and at the same moment—

“Mr. Duncan?”

He slipped. The saw stayed in the branch, but Neil slid downward. He whacked his knee into a branch below and grabbed at another, but slid once more so that his elbow smacked into the trunk of the tree. He caught a branch at last, wrapping his arm about it, and looked down.

The accident should not have happened. Yet there he was, hanging several feet in the air.

“Mrs. Clapham,” he growled, then released the branch. His feet hit the ground, and he bent his knees to take some impact out of the fall. But she rushed forward, reaching for him, and Neil stumbled back, his tailbone hitting the earth with an unsophisticated thump.

He groaned.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry.” Teresa appeared before him and kneeled, heedless of her dress in the dirt. “Are you hurt?” Her hand went to his cheek.

Neil’s irritation with the entire situation made him act rashly. At least, that was what he told himself when he took the hand from his cheek and pulled her forward into his arms.

* * *

Though Teresa’s heart had already stuttered and then sped up watching Mr. Duncan fall through the tree—Heavens, what if he were killed?—it positively galloped when he pulled her down beside him, his arms going around her.

She ought to protest immediately. But when she attempted to reprimand him, her words came out breathy rather than stern. “Mr. Duncan. Stop this.” She cleared her throat and leaned away from him. “Has the fall addled your head?”

He groaned, kept one arm about her shoulder while rubbing at the back of his head with the opposite hand. “It may have.”

She peered more closely at him, then wriggled out from under his arm. “I am not some green girl barely out in Society, Mr. Duncan. I know a trick when I see one, and if you think for one moment I would encourage such attentions—”

“I would never dare to presume such a thing, Mrs. Clapham.” His sigh came out with exasperation. “Though I will admit freely that you are quite lovely, even when you are flustered.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes at him. She refused to be taken in by pretty words and compliments. She drew a folded paper out of her apron. “I came out here to give you this.” She thrust it toward him, trying not to study the beautiful penmanship directing the letter to Mister Neil Duncan, Lost Mermaid Public House, Dunwich, Suffolk.

Mr. Duncan took the paper from her almost hesitantly, his eyes running over the handwriting. “Olivia,” he muttered before breaking the seal. Teresa averted her eyes, even though it would be a simple matter to read along with him.

“I will leave you to it.” She made as if to stand, but his hand closed around her wrist. Teresa stiffened and prepared to give him another dressing down.

The soft look in his eyes made her hesitate. “Please, do not rush off so quickly. It is a short letter. My sister writes only to tell me that the situation has not yet changed, and to stay where I am.” He dropped the letter into the grass beside him, then lowered himself all the way back to the ground, staring up at the branches of the tree.

Teresa had no business staying. She knew she ought to leave him to his thoughts, however complicated they might be. And she certainly had no reason to silently rejoice that Olivia was a relation and not a paramour. Mr. Duncan’s sister.

“I did not know you had gone to town,” Mr. Duncan said, before she made up her mind whether to stay or go.