"You sound just like Clive," she said bitterly.

"Clive?"

"Clive Russell. His family lives at Bracketts and his sister Jane is my dearest friend. He looks amazingly

romantic but he is only interested in farming."Iverbrook's lips twitched. "How very distressing. What an odious wretch the man must be."She looked at him with suspicion. "You are hoaxing me," she sighed."I like Mr. Russell," said Peter. "He's Timmy's brother. He taked me on his horse. It's a gentleman's horse, not like Pippin and 'Rion and Lyra. Have you got a proper gentleman's horse, Uncle Hugh?"

"Lots," said his lords.h.i.+p promptly. "When you come to live at Iver Place, you can ride them all."

Mrs. Finnegan soon came to bear Peter away to supper and bed, despite his loud protests that it was still

daytime and boys do not sleep in the daytime. Iverbrook pulled out his watch.

"I suppose you keep country hours," he said to Delia. "Your mama pressed me to stay the night but I shall be unable to change for dinner."

"We don't dine till eight in the summer, sir, because Selena is often late home. Your servant will be here with your bags long before that."

"He will?"

"Yes. Mama thought it best to send the postboy back with the hired horses and have your man return."

"Lady Whitton has a managing disposition, I see!" Lord Iverbrook, unused to having his affairs arranged for him, hovered between annoyance and amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Well, Papa was never in the least use at managing, so Mama has always ordered everything in the house and Selena on the farm. Clive's papa says Selena is one of the finest farmers in the county. She knows all about drainage and rotating crops and things."

"I shudder to think of two such females in one household!"

"Selena generally has the last word, but if Mama puts her foot down everyone does as she says. You see, Selena is a good farmer but Mama is a good person. Besides being our mother and honour thy father and thy mother and all that. Only sometimes she gets a bit absentminded because of her herbs."

Though admitting to himself a certain curiosity as to whether Miss Delia was about to reveal any interesting skeletons in the Whitton closets, Lord Iverbrook steered the conversation into safer channels.

Tom Arbuckle arrived with horses and baggage. When Iverbrook descended to the drawing room in his evening attire, he found the family already a.s.sembled. He nearly failed to recognise Selena, transformed from a dusty drab into a slim, elegant young woman in a lavender silk gown. Her pale curls shone in the candlelight, but her face was almost as pale and she was silent and subdued. He would have liked to think that she was regretting her quarrel with him, but it seemed more likely that she was simply not in very plump current. She nodded listlessly in response to his polite greeting, and ate scarce a mouthful when they went in to dinner.

In the absence of other gentlemen, his lords.h.i.+p elected to forgo the port and leave the table with the ladies. At his hostess's request, he regaled them with tales of the West Indies until the arrival of the tea tray, prompt at half past nine. He was surprised to be offered a choice of peppermint tea or the more usual China tea. In a mood of daring, and remembering the cool flavour of the borage in his lemonade, he chose the former and was rewarded with a glance of approval from Lady Whitton.

"Excellent for the digestion," she informed him.

Had she known the difficulty he would find in falling asleep, she would have prescribed chamomile instead. Unused to retiring at ten, he tossed and turned until he was sure dawn was about to break. As a result, he awoke long after everyone else had breakfasted and gone about their business.

A maid served him ham and eggs in the dining room. Well fortified, he decided to make another attempt to persuade Miss Whitton to see reason before he went to the horrid lengths of calling in the legal profession. He stepped into the hallway just as she emerged from the pa.s.sage leading to the side door.

Once again dressed in her worn, outmoded riding habit, she was holding her forehead with one hand while the other struggled with the ribbons of her hat. Her face was white, eyes red-rimmed and swollen with curious brown blotches around them.

"Miss Whitton, are you all right?" Lord Iverbrook asked in alarm. "Let me call your mother to you."

"Don't be nice to me," she snapped, "or I shall cry and then my head will explode." She gave up the fight

with the bonnet strings, pressed both hands to her temples, and closed her eyes.

"As you wish." He saw a hand bell on a marble-topped table and rang it, then untied the recalcitrant

ribbons and removed her hat. "You are a birdwitted nodc.o.c.k to insist on going out in the fields when it makes you so ill."

"I have to. The men will work for me, not for John Peabody. If I leave them they start brangling and

brawling and nothing gets done. I must go back."

"I trust this Peabody knows what needs doing, and that your groom can take me to him. You will go and lie down, or whatever will best aid your recovery, and I shall see that your barley is cut."

"Why, you high-handed fribble!" Selena wanted to demand just what he thought he knew about

harvesting, but the effort of shouting after his retreating back hurt too much. Besides, Mrs. Tooting had

appeared and one did not squabble in front of the servants."Did you ring, Miss Selena?" she asked, an expression of concern on her rosy-cheeked face. "Oh, youdo look ill, dear! Polly! Polly, go and fetch my lady to Miss Selena's chamber. Now you come onupstairs, dear, and we'll soon have you feeling better." Murmuring soothingly, she led Selena upstairs.

Her mother found her pacing up and down the room, with the housekeeper clucking at her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Tooting," she said, "but you know it never answers to lie down when Miss Selena is

like this. I have given Cook some herbs. Pray go and see that they are properly infused, and send Polly up with the tea. Dearest, whatever has happened to your face?"

Selena stopped and looked in her mirror. "I don't know. Oh, I suppose it is the sage dye you gave me

for my eyebrows. It has smeared all over. I look a perfect fright!"

"At least no one has seen you, my love, and now we know it is not to be used in an overheated ballroom.

I wonder if walnut juice might be more permanent?"

"But someone did see me: that arrogant court-card Iverbrook. I shall never be able to face him again."

"Nonsense! And I do not think he can be described as a court-card, for I distinctly recall dear Gilbert

saying how fortunate it was that Hugh was too young to be a member of Prinny's set."

"At all events, he is arrogant. He said in that odious, toplofty way that I was a fool, and if he dares to go to law to take Peter I shall fight him every step of the way, even if we all go home by beggar's bus.h.!.+"

"Of course you will, my love, but I am sure dear Hugh would never do anything so ungentlemanly. Now

here is Polly with your tea. Sit down and drink it and you will soon feel more the thing." * * * *

Lord Iverbrook, mounted on Orion, followed Jem down the lane in no charitable frame of mind, in spite of his errand of mercy.

"Fribble!" he muttered to himself. "I'll show her if I'm a fribble!"

Jem looked back. "Did you say something, my lord?"

"This horse is much too high-spirited for a female."

"Miss Selena can manage him," said Jem pugnaciously. "Miss Selena's different nor other ladies."

"With that sentiment," said his lords.h.i.+p, "I am in most wholehearted agreement!"

Chapter 5.

Lord Iverbrook thoroughly enjoyed his morning in the fields. The reapers responded to his natural air of authority, not to mention the fact that a "real lord" was taking an interest in their labours. John Peabody was inclined to take offense at first, but was won over by the viscount's deference to his expertise.

When the work stopped at midday and the men gathered in the shade of the hedge to eat their bread and cheese, Iverbrook rode back to the Manor. He found a hired chaise in the stable yard and an acquaintance ensconced in the drawing room.

"Whitton!" he exclaimed. "So you are the black . . . a connexion of the family."

The exquisite who rose to greet him with a flouris.h.i.+ng bow was startlingly handsome, with guinea gold hair and a Roman profile. Also startling were his vermilion coat, its shoulders peaked with buckram wadding, and his peach waistcoat embroidered with hummingbirds.

"My lord Iverbrook! What a charming surprise," he lisped.

"Sir Aubrey is Sir William's nephew, Hugh," explained Lady Whitton, "or not precisely a nephew but a third or fourth cousin. Somewhat removed, I collect. Since you are acquainted, you will excuse me while I go to see whether Selena is well enough to join us at luncheon."

Sir Aubrey's s.h.i.+rt-points made it impossible for him to turn his head; he twisted at the waist instead to address her ladys.h.i.+p.

"Of course, dear Aunt. My lord and I met in Jamaica. Your lords.h.i.+p was about to say 'black sheep,' I believe." He t.i.ttered. "'Pon my soul, the black sheep was not I but my father, who was exiled to the Indies."

"And what brings you to England now?"

"La, I have long wished to return to the home of my ancestors, and I recently inherited the baronetcy so the omens seemed favourable. Snuff, my lord?"

"No, thank you." The viscount watched with scorn as Sir Aubrey produced a snuff box set with what might conceivably be rubies but he rather suspected was coloured gla.s.s. With a mincing gesture, the baronet sniffed up a pinch of its contents. "I thought Sir William died several years ago," Iverbrook went on, "not long after my brother married his daughter."

"Ah, so you too are a close connexion of dear Lady Whitton. How delightful! Indeed, the late baronet pa.s.sed on some while since, but the news travelled slowly to Jamaica-I am sure you understand the delay-and then the lawyers proceeded with extreme sloth in verifying my claim to the t.i.tle. It was scarcely worth the long voyage if I was to find at the end that some closer male relative existed."

"Indeed. So your t.i.tle is proved and you are come to claim your inheritance?"

"So I believed, my lord, but I find myself in the most d.a.m.nable situation! It seems the property is not entailed upon the heir and Sir William was so ill-advised as to leave it to his daughter! What, I ask you, can a flighty female want with a substantial farm like Milford? It can only be a burden to her."

"You have not met Miss Whitton?"

"Not yet. She is unwell, I collect. However, I trust I have hit upon a scheme which must be acceptable, nay, welcome to all parties. If Miss Whitton will do me the inestimable honour of granting me her hand in marriage, I shall lift the burden from her shoulders while enjoying what is rightfully mine."

"I must warn you that Miss Whitton has broad shoulders, Sir Aubrey."

"You mean she is an antidote?" asked the baronet in alarm. "I confess I had hoped to find a fas.h.i.+onable female with looks to equal my . . . ahem, of tolerable appearance. However, I daresay I shall soon come to overlook any minor defects of person in a young lady of amiable disposition."

"I feel sure you will, in view of the rewards to be gained thereby. I was riding about the estate this morning and it looks to be a very pretty property, and in excellent heart. It is a great pity that Miss Whitton's disposition is managing and quarrelsome."

"'Pon rep, my lord, I believe you are gammoning me. Can it be that you have an interest there yourself?"

"No, no, not I!" disclaimed the viscount hurriedly. "Pray excuse me. I must remove some of the dust of the fields from my person before luncheon." He closed the door behind him before he said aloud, "Mercenary man-milliner!"

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" said Bannister, startled. "Luncheon will be served in the dining room in fifteen minutes, my lord."

"Will Miss Whitton be down?"

"I believe not, my lord, though I understand the headache is much improved. If I might make so bold, my lord . . ."

"Yes, Bannister, what is it?"

"Young Jem says your lords.h.i.+p brought the labourers up to the mark in prime style this morning, and we was hoping you might think to stay, my lord, till the harvest's over. For we don't like to see Miss Selena in such queer stirrups and that's the truth."

"Stay? Good heavens, I had not intended to stay so long as I have already!"