Chapter Eleven
Reuben, besieged by all and sundry, had no opportunity to single Farrah out for the rest of the evening.
Aware that his choice of dinner companion had raised eyebrows, he would not have approached her again anyway for fear of creating further speculation.
But that didn’t mean that he failed to keep her in the periphery of his vision, and had noticed her interaction with Templeton.
She seemed angered by it and kept her distance from that gentleman for the rest of the evening.
Reuben himself was not Templeton’s greatest fan.
He knew of nothing specific to his detriment.
He was an earl, and a man of means with a sterling reputation.
Even so, there was something about his demeanour that set Reuben’s teeth on edge.
He was considered to be charming and was known to be a womaniser.
All well and good, but surely he would not go so far as to target an unmarried lady.
Would he?
He frowned as that possibility took hold.
What other reason could he have had for making a beeline for Farrah the moment the gentlemen finished their port and returned to the drawing room?
Templeton would be acquainted with Dalton but not, as far as Reuben was aware, with his daughters.
Even so, the neglect of the Dalton estate had become common knowledge recently and speculation was rife.
Perhaps he had seen an opportunity to exploit that situation.
Templeton’s intentions continued to plague Reuben’s mind long after the last of the guests had departed and Reuben himself had retired for the night.
The following morning, unable to settle to anything, he cursed himself for not making a definite arrangement to meet Farrah and discuss their problems at greater length.
He could, of course, call at Dalton House, but if he did so he would be plagued by Lady Dalton and her younger daughter and there would be no opportunity to speak with Farrah alone.
‘Careless, Alton!’ he berated himself, wondering how he could go about arranging an accidental meeting with Farrah.
Charlotte had extolled her virtues the previous night, asserting that they were destined to become firm friends.
Reuben applauded his sister’s good judgement, but was reluctant to use the embryonic friendship between the two ladies to further his cause.
A note, he supposed, asking her to meet him was the only obvious answer, but he couldn’t discount the possibly of the note being seen by her mother and questions being asked.
Throwing up his hands as he read a report from his steward for the third time without absorbing a word, he decided that fresh air and exercise might offer inspiration.
Whistling to Percival, he left his library and waited impatiently for Brandon to be saddled.
He gave his lively stallion his head the moment they cleared the stable yard with no particular destination in mind, enjoying the feeling of the cold air whistling past his head as Brandon’s long stride ate up the ground at a breakneck pace.
Finding himself on the edge of the village and no longer on his own land, Reuben slowed to a canter and then a trot, acknowledging men who doffed hats as he passed them.
It was market day, and the village was alive with activity, not all of which would be honest, Reuben accepted.
Law and order had been in decline since the end of the war with Napoleon.
Those who survived the conflict returned to the villages with the legitimate expectation of finding gainful employment, but taxation had risen to a scandalous level and work was hard to come by.
Reuben felt a great deal of sympathy for the returning heroes and had employed as many of them as he could create work for.
It was noon when he reached the Black Sheep, and the taproom beckoned.
A tankard of Grant’s fine ale was a temptation that Reuben had no intention of resisting.
He left Brandon with the ostlers and was on the point of entering the tavern itself when he saw a familiar figure walk into the establishment by a side door.
‘What the devil!’ He removed his hat and scratched his head, thinking at first that his eyes must be playing tricks on him.
He had been thinking about Farrah to the exclusion of almost anything else since the previous evening, so his mind had no doubt tried to convince him that he had actually seen her enter the tavern in her distinctive blue cloak.
Reuben shook his head to dislodge the thought.
A lady of quality would never frequent such an establishment alone.
The place was teeming with people, and even though she had used the side door she was bound to be seen and recognised.
Reuben followed her, his heart sinking when he accepted that there was no mistaking the long strands of auburn hair which had refused to remain neatly pinned in place.
Presumably she had walked the long distance into the village, but for what purpose?
What on earth did she think she was doing here and whom did she intend to meet?
It wasn’t unheard of for ladies to hire private rooms in taverns to entertain friends, but single unaccompanied females would have no reason to do such a thing.
He continued to follow her, careful to remain in the shadows.
What she chose to do was her affair, but something stronger than his own will prevented Reuben from allowing her to behave recklessly.
Had she entered into some desperate agreement to find out more about her father’s whereabouts?
He wouldn’t put it past her, given the extent of that desperation.
Mrs Grant emerged from the kitchens, all smiles as she showed Farrah into a private sitting room. Reuben concealed himself in an alcove and waited, convinced there had been no one in the room when the landlady opened its door and curious to see who intended to join her.
He withdrew deeper into the alcove when a man’s heavy tread approached his position. God forbid that Farrah was meeting a man! Alone. His blood ran cold as the idea took hold. Her family were desperately short of funds but even so …
He caught a glimpse of the man as he strode past his hiding place and a string of expletives spilled from his lips.
Templeton!
How could Farrah be so reckless? He supposed that she could have been taken in by his gentlemanly facade, but even so…
Farrah was an attractive woman, sensual and self-assured ? facets that appealed to men of all ages.
They certainly appealed to Reuben, but she was unmarried.
Surely she wasn’t desperate enough to sell herself to keep the wolf from the door?
Could he have misjudged her to that extent?
She might be foolhardy, but he hadn’t thought her to be actually foolish.
Any lingering doubts that she and Templeton didn’t have an assignation dwindled and died when he thrust open the door to the parlour that she had just entered. Anger and disillusionment ricocheted through Reuben, causing him to remain rooted to the spot for a protracted moment.
The minute the ability to think rationally was restored to him, his immediate reaction was to rescue Farrah from her own folly.
Common sense asserted itself in the nick of time, however.
How she conducted herself and with whom she chose to spend her time was really none of his affair.
If he interceded, his actions would not remain secret for long and would be taken as akin to a declaration.
Much as he admired ? or had admired Farrah ? he had not been thinking in those terms, and now he never would.
He was severely disappointed by her rash conduct, yet he still felt an overwhelming urge to protect her from such impetuosity.
He shook his head. How was that even possible?
One of the most decisive men on the planet, Reuben no longer knew his own mind.
But since intervention was impossible ? he had already decided that much ? he took the only course open to him and returned to the mews to reclaim his horse.
Percival, who had remained in the stables to persecute its feline population, wagged his tail and bounded up to Reuben.
‘At least someone’s pleased to see me,’ he said, scratching his dog’s ears as he fought against the black mist of anger that was in danger of blurring his vision. Brandon was produced. He swung into the saddle and left the mews at a brisk trot, leaving Farrah to her guilty pleasures.
Farrah felt distinctly uneasy about keeping a clandestine meeting with Templeton ? it felt more like an assignation.
But if there was even the briefest hope of him knowing anything about Papa’s activities then she didn’t see that she had any choice in the matter.
The landlady had given her an odd look when she arrived unchaperoned but made no comment, instead conducting her to what she described as the best parlour in the tavern and making sure that the fire was banked up.
Too agitated to sit, Farrah paced the length of the small room, barging into furniture and hurting her shin.
If Templeton kept her waiting, then she would simply abandon the entire idea and return home.
The estate books had been delivered, but she had barely had a chance to look at them before setting off on foot for her meeting with a man she instinctively disliked.
She threw back her head and sighed, thinking of all the choice words she would address to her father for forcing her into this position, if and when he deigned to return.
She was the only one of them who would face up to reality and seek an alternative to social and financial ruin, and Papa would be aware of it.