Page 41 of An Inconvenient Vow

Lady Maud sighed. “Alas, neither of the boys shows much aptitude for their books.” She shot a significant look at Sabina, clearly seeing an opening for her to take.

Sabina cleared her throat. “Do you think perhaps that the boys might be destined for a different type of career than that of the clerical life?” she asked lightly.

“Certainly, they will not both go into the Church,” Sir Dudley said uneasily, shooting a glance at his wife. “Jasper must inherit Longacre; it is for Crispin I have always intended...”

An awkward silence descended on the group. Sabina saw a tense, worried look come over the younger boy’s face. “I cannot imagine Crispin in holy robes,” she mused loudly. Jasper gave a shout of laughter and Crispin’s impish face relaxed into a grin.

“I cannot think of anyone less suited,” Jeffree said sourly. “He would be thrown out of the seminary within a sennight!”

Even Lady Maud smiled at this, though Sir Dudley protested that Crispin would grow steadier with age. The mood having lightened, they made their way back to the horses and set forth once more.

To her surprise, after an hour, Sabina found Jeffree dropping back to ride beside her. She scanned his profile, expecting him to direct some comment or issue, some command at her, but to her surprise, he rode on in silence. Was this for appearance’s sake, then?

She turned her head quickly to look at her in-laws, but Lady Maud and Sir Dudley were occupied with their own conversation and the boys were absorbed in dropping bits of cheese over the side of their cart for the dogs to scavenge. Hadley had ridden ahead, and Osborn was bringing up the rear, so it was not as though anyone else would pay attention to their closeness or lack of it.

“You ride well,” he said finally, breaking the silence between them, but still not turning his head to look at her.

Sabina was startled. “Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”

Jeffree snorted and finally cast her an appraising look. “You display to advantage in the saddle.” He stated it as a plain statement of fact, no admiration in his tone, but to her annoyance, Sabina found herself starting to turn red.

“I am country-bred after all.” He made no response to that, and she cast him another baffled look. “I suppose you were born in Caer Lyoness,” she hazarded. “Or Aphrany,” she said, naming both the summer and winter capitals.

“Then you suppose wrong. I was born at Ganford Chase.”

Sabina was surprised. “So then, you consider yourself a native of Ganfordshire?”

At her startled tone, he shrugged. “Where else?”

She did not know how to answer that; she only knew that she would not have considered in a million years that the proud Sir Jeffree hailed from her own home county. “Somewhere a good deal grander,” she answered at last.

“Ganford Chase is very grand,” he pointed out.

“Why so it is,” she agreed lightly. “Most likely it is the grandest residence hereabouts. Still…” She hesitated.

“What?”

“You were seen but rarely about the countryside. One time you were pointed out to me at Ganford cathedral,” she recalled. “And I was introduced to you once at the Bishop’s Palace.” His eyes widened at this, for he likely had no recollection of that occasion. As he had barely afforded her a glance let alone a reply, she was not surprised. “I daresay you have barely set foot in the village, though it lies only some five miles from Ganford Chase.”

“The village?” At his incredulous tone, Sabina realized she had been right.

“I suppose a duke’s heir has no need of a village,” she reflected aloud.

Jeffree frowned. “I was not raised at Ganford Chase, but in the home of my godfather, Sir Charles Ellis, in Sutton St. Bolston.” Sabina merely nodded. She already knew this, thanks to her mother-in-law. “On my visits to my uncle I have ridden all about this countryside, I assure you. When we return,” he added, “you can show me this village. If you think it so noteworthy.”

Now it was Sabina’s turn to be startled. “Little Ganford? I am sure it is entirely beneath your notice. There is naught there but a smithy, a mill, and a duck pond!”

“Yet from your words, it seemed I could not claim to be Ganford-born if I had not a passing acquaintance with this duck pond.”

Sabina laughed. She could not help it. Jeffree watched her with a curious look on his face which sobered her somehow. “I don’t know why your indignation always strikes me as funny,” she confided suddenly. Possibly it was because he was so proper.

“Always?” he echoed with displeasure.

She considered this a moment, tipping her head to one side. “No,” she admitted after a moment. “Not when I admitted to being your lover. I was not amused then and you looked as though you had turned to stone.” Half fascinated, she watched the color creep along Jeffree’s cheekbones. He turned in his saddle, as though to check if anyone was listening to them.

“You are… reckless, madam,” he muttered. “Do you never consider the consequences of your wayward tongue?”

“Reckless?” Sabina blinked. “Do I seem that way to you?”