She put a hand over her mouth and continued to stare at him. Tears welled into her eyes but were blinked away.

David put his hand over her wrist and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He said nothing for a while, until one tear spilled over. "I must leave here," he said. "I thought it would be the mark of a weak man to leave my position merely because of a personal problem. But for your sake I must leave, Rachel. You will forget me when I am gone, or at least you will be able to get on with your life."

"Hold me," she said. "I need to be held. Oh, please. Don't close your eyes like that and bite on your lip. I am so very weak. Oh." She spread both hands over her face and turned sharply away. "This is well-deserved punishment for all the flirting I have done. None of those men has ever meant a single thing to me. And now the only man who means more than everything is too honorable even to touch me."

She was in his arms then, his own holding her like iron bands to his heart until one hand came up to her chin and pulled roughly at the strings of her bonnet before casting it to the seat on the far side of her. He held her head against his coat and laid his cheek against the top of her head.

"Rachel," he said. "My sweet love. Oh, if I could only have foreseen what knowing you would do to us both. I would have stayed away, love. I would have accepted my godmother's offer to find me a post in London. If I had only known. I wanted to devote my life to bringing the love of God into the lives of my people. I wanted to touch hearts with love. And I have brought only pain and bitterness to the woman I love most in the world. Forgive me. Oh, God, forgive me."

"I have a large dowry, David," she said against his coat. "Papa will not oppose any marriage I make if he knows my heart is set upon it. And you have said Lady Wexford will help you find a position. We could go away from here and live in some comfort, and you could still work for the church. We could combine our two worlds, David. We could." She buried her face against him.

"No," he said. "We can never have a life together, Rachel. If you give up your way of life for me, you will be very unhappy. If I give up my way of life for you, I will be destroyed. I must go away, love. It is the only way. You will marry Algie and have children, and a few years from now you will remember this episode as a slightly sad youthful infatuation."

"And will you remember it that way?" She drew her head away from his shoulder and looked up into his eyes.

He framed her face with his hands and shook his head. "No," he said.

"Don't belittle my feelings then," she said, "just because I am a woman."

He bent his head and kissed her, his hands still cupping her face. Rachel rested her hands against his chest and abandoned herself to an embrace that was warm with deep love but empty of passion. Neither lost contact with reality for even a moment. Both were reluctant to withdraw and know themselves alone once more.


"I shall go away," David said again when he was looking down into her eyes, inches from his own. "Perhaps not as soon as I ought. Rufus and his family are coming to stay at the Hall. My brother, you know. Has Algie told you? I will not say anything while they are here. But after that I shall ask Algie to replace me. I shall be gone before you marry him."

"I love you," Rachel said. "There. Am I not incurably self-indulgent? I wanted to hear myself say it because I know I will never say it again. There will be a strangeness between us after this, will there not? An awkwardness again. The next time we meet we will find it difficult to look at each other. So good-bye, David, while I still have the courage to look you in the eye. I love you, and I believe I always will. And I believe you are a fool to refuse to take the risk of marrying me. You really do not know me. I am not at all the person you think me."

He smiled and finally withdrew his hands from her face. "You will be thanking God in future years for protecting you from such an indiscretion," he said. "Be happy, Rachel. That is what I wish for you more than anything in the world. You will be happy. You love Algie far more than you realize, I believe."

Rachel bent down to retrieve the ribbons from beneath his boot. "Will you think me very rude and ungracious if I ask you to walk from here?" she asked. "The village is not much farther than a mile, is it? I am as taut as a bow, David. I must be alone."

He jumped down into the roadway without another word, and Rachel none too gently set the horse into motion. She did not look back at the man who stood in the dust and watched her out of sight.


***

It was true that Viscount Cardwell and his wife and two young sons were coming to stay at Singleton Hall the following week. Lord Rivers brought the news to Oakland that same afternoon.

"He writes that he is coming because the children are now old enough to travel," Algernon explained to Lord and Lady Edgeley, "and because I have been pestering him ever since his marriage to visit me." He smiled at Rachel, who was sitting on a sofa flanked by Lord Morrison and Sir Herbert Fanshawe. "In reality, I think he wants to cast an eye on David to see how well he has settled to his new life. He will not take my word for it that his brother is a changed and a happy man."

"Indeed, we are most fortunate in your choice of vicar, Algernon," Lady Edgeley said. "What a delight it is to be able to sit through a Sunday sermon without having to fight the urge to nod off to sleep."

"Rufus has always felt guilty about having been born the elder," Algernon said. "He wanted David to accept an income from him, y'know, even though apparently he cannot afford such generosity. And he wanted David to go on the Grand Tour before settling down. It will be a good thing for him to come. He is bound to be reassured when he sees David for himself."

"I have only one fault to find with our new vicar," Lord Edgeley said. "He is altogether too generous. It is all very well to help the people of his parish, though I would far prefer him to come to me if he discovers a need among my tenants of which I am unaware. But I must take exception to his feeding and even giving money to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who knocks on his door."

"Does he do that?" Lord Mountford asked. "You should put a stop to it, Rivers. It only encourages vagrancy."

"He is doubtless giving away money to people who are far better off than he is," Lord Edgeley said. "And how does he know that he is not giving aid to a fugitive from justice?"

"I did tackle him on the subject a few days ago," Algernon said. "He just gave me that smile of his and said that it is better to give to some unworthies than not to give to some who are really in need."

"It is called risk," Rachel said. "Do you not remember the Gospel reading at church last Sunday and the sermon? 'Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' That was the key verse, I believe." She flushed suddenly, realizing that all eyes were upon her.

"Lady Rachel has swallowed a Bible," Lord Morrison said languidly. "We should summon a physician at once. Dreadful malady, you know."

"Everyone in my home is encouraged to be familiar with the book," Lord Edgeley commented. "One has to be wary of taking the words too literally, though, Rachel. In the days of Jesus there were probably not nearly as many frauds and liars as there are today. But no truly sensitive person would deny the virtue of giving alms where they are deserved, I believe."

Rachel looked at her hands. It would be far better to hold her peace and allow her father to have the last word. "The Reverend Gower believes that one must risk loving everyone," she said, "even if that love is misplaced. Look at what happened to Matthew and Zacchaeus, Papa. Any sensible person would have said they were a poor risk."

"Gracious, child," Lady Edgeley said, a note of finality in her voice. "We are boring our guests quite shamelessly. Did you say that you came to invite all the young people to walk over to Singleton to take tea, Algernon? I think that would be a splendid idea. Do run along, everyone, while the sun is still shining. It looks as if clouds may settle in later."

One fact was perfectly clear to Rachel as she walked with Algernon ten minutes later. She would not be able to do what she had decided she must do. She had spent an agonized hour in her room after returning the gig to the stable before luncheon. But she had forgotten what David had said about the proposed visit of his brother. Now she must wait. Viscount Cardwell would not arrive for perhaps another week. He would probably stay as long.

He was coming on a long-overdue visit to Algie. He was coming to assure himself that his brother was happy and well-settled. And who was she to upset everyone's pleasure?

It must be done eventually, of course. Algie would have to be told that she could never marry him. He might draw the conclusion that David had something to do with her decision, especially when David asked to be relieved of the post he had so recently accepted and so wholeheartedly applied himself to. Soon there was going to be a great deal of upheaval and heartache. Soon. But not yet. She loved Algie too dearly to burden him with her second thoughts at this particular moment. And she loved David far too much to let him hear now of the change in Algie's betrothal plans and know himself responsible. She must wait.

And so she tripped along gaily at Algernon's side, twirling her parasol, chattering brightly to him, and agreeing with his suggestion that another ball, at Singleton this time, would not be at all amiss and would surely delight all the local gentry, who were quite unused to two such lavish entertainments within one month.