But Rob was avidly interested in all aspects. Soon, he and Mr. Sykes were engrossed in conversation as they walked across the fields, their heads bent toward each other, unaware she had slowed her step and lingered by the sheep pens to allow the pair to talk at length about livestock and arable land.
Since she was so familiar with the place, any problems were easy for her to spot and assess without the need for her estate manager to point them out. Fortunately, there appeared to be nothing major to address at the moment.
However, this did not mean she could sit back and not concern herself with the farm. Constant vigilance was required, and constant maintenance as well. She took note of the wood beginning to rot along the sheep pens, but that repair could be delayed until next spring. She would ask Mr. Sykes for his opinion.
The odor of chickens wafted from the coop as the light breeze shifted and sent their pungent aroma her way. She heard their clucks and squawks, and the low bellows of her milking cows as they were led out of the barn by one of the farmhands into the lower pasture.
Being so close to Brighton was an advantage, especially as the town became more popular with summer visitors. There was always a need for eggs and milk, and their prices held up well due to this demand. The farm also had an apple orchard that provided apples in the autumn and cider throughout the winter.
Fiona was quite proud of this property.
She also did not regret having married Shoreham, for he had been kind and generous with her, and was this not enough of a blessing in one’s life?
Plusa week of delicious sin with Rob? Her nights with him had felt particularly decadent because he was so adept in the bedchamber. And she did not hold back in her responses.
Perhaps she would have felt less sinful had she not known him since childhood. Yet, at this point in their lives, the six-year difference in their ages did not seem quite so impossible.
It would have been nothing had Rob been the one who was six years older.
But he was certainly old enough now, no longer the little boy who used to follow her every step, or greet her at the door like an adorably excited puppy whenever she came to visit with her mother.
Dear heaven.He had grown so impossibly handsome and completely dangerous to her heart.
She shook out of her thoughts when the men strode back from the pasture to join her. The three of them walked to Mr. Sykes’s office, where they reviewed the ledgers and made decisions on what to repair next.
One entry made her frown. “Is Mr. Holland no longer purchasing his eggs and milk from us?”
Mr. Sykes nodded. “He claims our prices are too high and he went elsewhere.”
“That is ridiculous. Our prices are set at market rates. What is going on with him?”
“I don’t know. His son was the one who approached me and instructed me to stop deliveries to his father’s bake shop.”
“Thatweasel? He’s going to stint on quality and destroy his father’s business before the year is out. I’m not going to let him get away with it.”
Rob glanced at her with his eyebrows arched. “Does this mean you want to take a trip into Brighton next?”
He knew her so well. “Yes. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I am entirely at your service.”
Mr. Sykes laughed as he turned to Fiona. “You are going to box the son’s ears, aren’t you? Be careful. The man is a no-account and will not behave like a gentleman.”
Fiona tipped her chin up. “I’ll flay him alive if he tries anything. More important, I must talk sense into Mr. Holland. He cannot let that worthless son of his run the bakery into the ground.”
“Is it not the baker’s business what he wishes to do about his son and his shop?” Rob asked.
“No, it is mine because he is a customer of ours and his son will have him bankrupt and begging on the streets if someone does not step in to stop the damage.”
“Is his son merely a wastrel, or is he dangerous?”
“Merely a wastrel, I’m sure. He’s too lazy to get off his rump and actually do anything.”
But Rob noticed the small hitch of hesitation in her voice. “Perhaps you ought not—”
“I’m going. Will you come with me, or shall I have Mr. Sykes hitch his own rig and take you back to Shoreham Manor?”
“I’m going with you, of course. You know I am not letting you walk into trouble on your own.”
