Page 84 of Rival to Resist
Frederick’s brows went up.
The man swung down from his horse, then put out a hand. “Captain Hugh Rathmore.”
Frederick took his hand, but it was a moment before he realized where he knew the name. “Ah! You are a friend of Mrs. Penrose.”
“I knew her husband.” His expression grew a bit more solemn at the mention. “I have been meaning to pay my respects personally but have been detained with my duties until now. You have been of great help to her, as I understand it.”
“Hardly,” Frederick said with a chuckle. “She exaggerates—you are undoubtedly aware how kind she is.”
“I am, but I think you are being modest, sir.” He glanced ahead as his chaise disappeared around the bend. “I must ensure my belongings arrive, but I pray you will believe me when I say how appreciative I am. I trust we will see one another before I leave.” He gripped the saddle and put his foot in the stirrup.
“I am certain we shall,” Frederick responded. “I am putting up at the same inn.”
“Ah!” Captain Rathmore settled into his seat. “Dinner sometime, perhaps?”
“I would enjoy that.”
With a tip of the hat and a smile, the captain continued down the lane.
When Frederick returned to the church, the pews hadbegun to fill. His gaze flitted to Caroline’s box, and his heart skipped at the sight of her beside Mrs. Penrose.
Caroline’s eyes met his, and he was rewarded with the glimmer of a smile before she schooled her expression into something neutral and gave him an acknowledging nod.
He returned it, determined to show himself on his best behavior as more parish members filed around him and took their seats.
“Mr. Yorke,” Jory said.
Frederick broke his gaze away and looked down at him. His hair had been wetted and brushed into something more orderly than its usual disheveled chaos.
“Sit with me?” he asked.
Frederick smiled and tugged the bottom of his ear. “Of course.” He followed him down the aisle, chancing a glance at Caroline, who watched him with an appreciative warmth in her eyes that made his heart dance. How was he to behave himself if she looked at him in such a way?
“I found Mr. Yorke,” Jory said to Mrs. Tonkin, who was seated on a pew beside the family of one of the fishermen Frederick had worked alongside.
Her gaze swung to his, and there was a little pause before she looked at her nephew. “We’ve no room, Jory.” She looked back at Frederick just long enough to say, “Forgive us.”
Jory frowned. “If ’ee move over a bit?—”
“Never mind, Jory,” Frederick said, though therewasspace enough. “I shall find another place.” He winked at him, then turned away, trying to conceal the pinch of hurt. He had been determined to ask Mrs. Tonkin the reason for the change in her behavior, but she had been impossible to pin down. On purpose, he assumed. His meals and drinks were all served by Jory.
Frederick’s eyes met Caroline’s perplexed ones for a briefmoment, then moved to look for a seat. The pews were fuller than usual, though, and he looked in vain for a place to sit that would not require stepping over families to reach.
Mr. Curnow took his place at the lectern.
“Mr. Yorke.”
Frederick turned, and Caroline met his gaze. “There is space here.” She indicated the place beside her.
He hesitated for a moment, then made his way over and entered the box.
She gave him a perfunctory smile that was so convincingly detached that he nearly began to wonder if he had imagined what had happened in the tack room.
He took a seat beside her just as the vicar began the service.
Frederick did his best to listen, but his mind was simply more interested in the mere inch separating him from Caroline. The impulse to reach over and take her hand, which was clasped in her lap, presented itself to him, only to be firmly discarded.
He slid his hands along his breeches and left them gripping his thighs to keep them occupied.
