I smiled, so proud of Damon for speaking his convictions, and leaned toward the door to better hear.
“Oh, you do not?” Lord Winfield said. “What about your sway in the House of Lords when the time comes? You have a desire to see reform in a number of laws, do you not? What about making an advantageous match? You must want for a beautiful and well-bred wife. And if you do not care about yourself, which, given your behavior tonight, it seems you do not, then you must at least consider your mother and how she will be treated in her social circles. And what about your brother’s standing? Are you content to ruin him as well? You have led with your heart, not your head, again, and you simply cannot afford it, not if you wish to have any standing in Society.”
“Hang Society,” Damon spat back. “I refuse to turn my back on our tenants as you have.”
“Isthatwhat you think of me? That I have turned my back on them?” Lord Winfield laughed humorlessly.
“I could hardly think otherwise. The Turners have been good, hardworking tenants, yet you will not fix their roof, invest in better farming equipment, or extend their payment.”
“What has happened to Mr. Turner is regrettable,” Lord Winfield said, “but I did not deal him the blow. War did. And while I wish I could house and feed every hungry man, woman, and child, I am running an estate, not a charity. I must see to the needs of myownfamily, and so must you. Soon you will be lord and master of this estate, Damon. You must learn to act like it.”
“Must act likeyou, you mean.”
“Indeed.”
“I am not you, Father. And I do not want to run Summerhaven in the manner you have. I want—”
“It does not matter whatyouwant,” Lord Winfield interrupted. “In order for the estate to survive, you must do what has always been done.”
“I do not want it to merely survive. I want the estate to thrive. My education has taught me there is a better way.”
“Then perhaps it is time for areeducation,” Lord Winfield said. There was a long beat of silence before he continued. “This is Miss Kent’s doing. She has a bleeding heart like her mother had, and her beliefs are unduly influencing you.”
I clutched my hand to my chest, covering Mama’s ring. He’d meant it as an insult, but nothing could be more of a compliment.
“Hannah has nothing to do with this,” Damon said.
“Hannah?” Lord Winfield repeated, his words softer now, almost pitying. “Oh, Damon. Aclergyman’sdaughter? You cannot be serious. She is so far beneath you, it is laughable. A summer tryst before you finally take up your familial obligations is one thing, but you should be grateful I discovered you tonight. If it had been anyone else, you would have been forced into an undesirable marriage with the chit.” Lord Winfield’s voice grew quiet, and I imagined him letting out a great sigh, though I couldn’t hear it.
I leaned toward the study door, straining to hear Damon’s response, but either he’d spoken too quietly for me to overhear, or he hadn’t said anything at all.
I pressed myself into the shadows, feeling small. Perhaps, like both Lord Winfield and Ollie, Damon deemed me undesirable. He was a lord after all, and Iwasonly a clergyman’s daughter. Not to mention the fact that Damon had only suggested our ruse because he wished to avoid marriage.
But that had changed . . . Hadn’t it?
I removed myself from my hiding spot behind the door and hurried up the stairs. And as I padded down the corridor to my bedchamber, I felt the disapproving glares of Damon’s ancestors staring down at me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Morning, miss. Or perhaps Ishould say good afternoon.” Nora fluttered about my bedchamber, preparing for the day.
“Good morning, Nora,” I croaked.
Nora looked at me funny. “You feelin’ unwell, miss?”
“I’m—”Fine, I started to say, but my throat burned, and my head felt full, like the London fog had rolled into my room overnight and taken up residence.
Nora walked to my bedside and held her hand to my forehead. “You are warm. Best spend the day resting in bed. I will fetch a tray from the kitchen for you.”
“No,” I said, and I attempted to push myself up to a sitting position, but my muscles were too weak and achy. “Ooh . . . Perhaps you are right. Will you please assure Lady Winfield I am well? I do not want to worry her.”
“Of course, miss. But first you must tell me, was it terribly romantic? Getting caught in the rain with Lord Jennings?”
Oh dear. Nora’s question meant gossip was circulating belowstairs. I tried to think of a way to answer her honestly without actually answering her question at all. “Rain produces mud, and I have never thought mud to be romantic, have you?”
Nora’s face scrunched. “Well, no, but—”
“Me neither,” I said, relaxing back into bed. “Would you mind collecting that tray now? My throat hurts, and some tea might help.”
