A Country Affair Read Free

that he can use my name at will."
    Wilfrid seemed reluctant to leave it at that. "Then I hope you mean to teach him a serious lesson. And, if I may be of any help whatsoever, I beg you will write to me in Brighton."
    "Certainly, I shall. I could not forget the depth of your family feeling."
    A glint hardened Wilfrid's eyes. "Do not underestimate it, Richard. My little foibles are as nothing when compared to this gross encroachment. I beg again that you will let me tend to it."
    Taken aback by the strength of Wilfrid's feelings, Richard moderated his tone. "I appreciate your interest, but your methods are not likely to be the same as mine, so I prefer to see to this myself."
    His offer having been so firmly refused, Wilfrid shrugged. "As you will. Your servant, cousin."
    As he showed himself out, Richard stared after him, and a rare feeling of dismay swept through him. Wilfrid had left, not the least bit abashed. Richard had no doubt that his cousin would take up where he had left off with no change at all in his behaviour.
    And it did not matter that he was regarded by most to be a thoroughly undeserving character. Richard was obliged to support him. A gentleman was frowned upon for mistreating his heir, and, in truth, Wilfrid did nothing worse than many of his contemporaries. If the Regent himself found Wilfrid charming—and Richard scoffed at the thought— what could he do to make him feel otherwise?
    The source of his dismay, he knew, was the niggling thought that Wilfrid just might succeed him if he failed to provide another heir. Men Richard's age died all the time, and many an elderly man had succeeded a younger one. In spite of his good health, Richard knew he could break his neck on a hunt or a carriage race, whereas Wilfrid took great care never to court any physical danger.
    What was needed was a wife. Richard admitted to himself that his search for one had grown more serious of late. The need to supplant Wilfrid was always in his mind, but an even stronger motive, he realized, was his more recent desire for companionship. A man grew weary of nothing but frivolous pursuits once the first energy of his youth had been spent. Trouble was, the longer he looked for his ideal companion, the more unlikely it appeared that he would find her.
    The fresh, young faces that were trotted out every social season were looking more and more the same. Richard thought that if he had to attend one more ball, he might take to serious drink.
    The letter in his hand caught his attention once again, bringing with it a new wave of irritation. And now, this Payley scoundrel. Richard’s family obligations were enough to throw even the most cheerful fellow into the dismals.
    The thought of facing Payley down cheered Richard immensely. If nothing else a trip into Sussex would get him out of London. He had a mind to ride his horse all the way to Uckfield, in spite of the winter season, leaving his coach and servants behind.
    A rigorous journey on horseback would be the very thing he needed to cure him of his malaise.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Brisk, cold weather and the sight of open countryside—however bleak and leafless it was—did restore Richard to his usual equanimity. He had left London behind with all its tedious formalities. Even his change in dress came as a relief, for one could not go jaunting about the countryside in January dressed like a pink of the ton. His woolen breeches, waistcoat and jacket made him look more the country gentleman, and only the magnificent cut of his caped redingote divulged the status of its wearer.
    He had left well before dawn, and a brisk day of traveling brought him to Uckfield in time for dinner. Uckfield proved to be a small hamlet of little distinction, due without doubt to its distance from the turnpike road. By the time Richard arrived, he was ready for a warm drink, even though the ocean currents that warmed Sussex had kept his fingers and toes from freezing.
    He headed for the inn—a modest