there is work this year, there will probably be no work next year.”
“But you can never tell, can you? There would have been no work last year if Penrith had not rebuilt the stables. It is not inconceivable that next year one of the landowners will have a project. One year at a time, Miss Easterly-Cummings, is all anyone can hope for.” The intense blue eyes studied her gravely.
Selina nodded as she tugged the shawl closer about her shoulders. For the first time she became conscious that her being alone with a strange man might not be altogether proper. Not that she cared for such things, she scolded herself. After all, it was her own home and she might entertain whom she pleased. Well, not entertain, perhaps, but repay him for his kindness in restoring Henry to her. This was, as it were, an obligation. Selina stole a quick glance at her companion under the pretext of plumping up one of the pillows on the sofa where she sat. He rested casually in his chair, his eyes thoughtful and the black brows drawn into a slight frown, his fingers tapping lightly on his wineglass.
At length she said hesitantly, “I have never wished to sell the vale to Lord Benedict. My father would not sell it to his father, though he risked the loss of it on the turn of a card to spare himself a fight in the courts. If I were to sell the land to you, I would have to be offered first refusal in the event you were to resell it for any reason.”
Surprised, Rushton stared at her for a moment. “Of course I would offer you first refusal. Do you mean you will sell?”
“I suppose there is really no reason not to. Would you give me your word to employ men from the area, and not to import your own workers or craftsmen?”
“Wherever feasible, Miss Easterly-Cummings. You may not have all the necessary trades represented right here.”
“Possibly, but I would expect you to do your utmost before going elsewhere.”
“I have said I would.” He watched her warily now, afraid any misstep would unbalance their negotiations. “Had you given any thought to what the land is worth?”
“Lord Benedict has offered me, at various times, seven, eight and nine hundred pounds. There are only thirty acres, and a fair amount of it is wooded.”
“Would a thousand pounds be adequate?”
“You misunderstand me, Mr. Rushton. I thought Lord Benedict’s offers were high for such a small piece of land.”
“To me the land is worth a thousand pounds. I could spend more on a hunter, Miss Easterly-Cummings. Have we a bargain?” He watched her finger the shawl nervously, perplexed by her agitation. Was he harassing her, after all? She seemed unusually vulnerable. “There is no need to decide right now. I would be grateful if you would think over my offer.”
“Yes, I... I should like to do that. I don’t mean to be contrary; it is just that until this evening I had not really thought of selling it, and I should not like to make a hasty decision. May I send you word in a day or so?”
Selina was not in the habit of hesitating over business decisions. When she had all the facts at her fingertips, she saw no reason to mull over a decision interminably, for it did not make the problem appear any clearer, but often the reverse. There was no reason to withhold her agreement now, but she felt strongly affected by his presence and could not be sure that she would feel the same when he had left. No use pretending that when he fixed one with that compelling gaze it had no influence. Selina decided that he was used to getting his own way, and that rankled, for she would not let him twist her round his thumb, but she would not refuse to sell to him for that reason, either. It was a business matter, and her grasping at time to decide was an effort to keep any extraneous issues from coloring her decision.
Unaware that he had risen, Selina found him standing over her and started to her feet. “Forgive me, I have been lost in thought. How very rude of me.”
Rushton