Page 145 of The Earl She Once Saved

“I have soldiered beside brave men,” Rafe said. “I have known few with her steel.”

He turned toward Verity. Until then she had been able to watch him as the others did. His gaze found hers, open and steady, and the yard seemed suddenly to have no shelter in it.

“She is the best of anyone here,” he said. “Just look at Edgeworth if you require proof.”

Verity looked away. She fixed her eyes upon a dark knot in the timber stacked on the cart. Beyond it she could see the tracks of wagon wheels in the damp earth. She knew those tracks, the fields they led to, the names of the men waiting to make repairs before rain came again. She had done what needed doing for so long that praise felt almost unbearable. No one had stood before a yard full of people and spoken of those years as though they mattered.

Her eyes stung. She would sooner have faced Roland’s contempt alone than let anyone see her weep at Rafe’s kindness.

She was frightened, too. Rafe knew everyone could hear him. His words would leave this yard with the visitors and travel through the county. Whatever he meant by looking at her that way, he made no attempt to hide it.

Mr. Harris cleared his throat. “The timber, my lord?”

Verity made herself raise her head. Roland’s hand still rested upon the ledger, but he gave the clerk no instruction.

“Take it to the north culvert,” she said. “Mr. Coombes will direct the work as arranged.”

Coombes bowed his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

The laborers began to load the horses. Harris closed the ledger with the allowance unstruck. Verity heard the boards shift, the creak of harness leather, ordinary sounds returning to a yard that had held its breath.

Mr. Lacey came down from the portico and offered Roland a remark about the weather. Mrs. Fenwick asked whether the repairs would be finished before the next rain. People were finding safe things to say again.

Celestine had remained by the steps. Her smile was composed, though Verity remembered her at the ball with Rafe’s mother’s pendant. Celestine had given the jewel back when he asked. She had also spoken to him of Thursday’s dinner, certain enough of her welcome to do so before the guests.

Mrs. Fenwick glanced from Verity to Rafe. “Colonel, the county may hope for happier news from you and Miss Marchmont soon, I think.”

Celestine’s eyes lifted. Verity felt the familiar sharpness beneath her ribs, but Rafe answered before she could look away.

“I am afraid the county has been misinformed,” he informed them lightly. “Miss Marchmont and I have made no such plans.”

Mrs. Fenwick gave a startled laugh. “Then I have listened too readily to gossip.”

“It travels quickly,” Rafe nodded.

Celestine’s smile faltered. She set it back in place with visible effort and turned to ask Mr. Lacey about his wife. Verity felt an unexpected pang for her. Whatever hopes Celestine had permitted others to see, she had just heard them dismissed before the same witnesses. Rafe had been plain. Verity could not wish him to have left her believing otherwise. She wished the answer had cost Celestine less.

Roland watched her. Verity saw him notice the brief failure of Celestine’s smile, then look toward Rafe and finally toward herself. His face darkened with a cold, deliberate anger and the memory of his threat rose in her mind once more.

The cart pulled away toward the north track. Coombes walked beside it, his cap once more upon his head. Verity followed its progress until it passed through the gate. When she turned back, Roland was still watching her.

She knew with sudden certainty that he would make someone pay for what had happened in the yard. She just did not yet know whom he would choose.

Chapter 24

By noon, Rafe had heard himself speak in the yard a hundred times.

The words returned while he watched the cart take the north road, while Harris brought the ledger indoors, while Roland entertained his visitors with a tour of the gardens as though nothing had happened. They came back when Rafe closed his eyes: She is the best of anyone here.

He meant every word. That was the difficulty.

He had seen Mrs. Fenwick watching him. He had known Celestine stood beneath the portico and that Roland would hear his praise as a challenge. For a moment he had wished for no witnesses, because Verity had looked so close to tears. He had not once wished the words unsaid.

Rafe went to the stables after the visitors departed. The horses had been fed, and the warm air smelled of hay and damp leather. His gelding lifted its head as he entered. He ran a hand down the animal’s neck, feeling the dried sweat left by their ride across the moor.

Across the aisle, Ezra stood beside a bay mare, examining a loose buckle on her bridle. His cane leaned against the stall wall.

“You have been at that for some time,” Rafe mused.