“No, they rarely do.” The duke let out a sigh that seemed to deflate his whole body. “Gabriel, my boy, the path to anything worthwhile is often hard and crooked. I’m sure there will be difficulties, but I believe the two of you can overcome them. And in the end, it will be worth it. Even if nothing comes of our scheme, if an heir doesn’t result from your liaison, I think it will result in happiness for you and Hannah.”
“I hope you are right, Your Grace. Because, for better or worse, we are committing to this course.”
CHAPTER 12
THE NEXT MORNING, WHENHannah arrived at the stables for her daily ride, the earl was already there. He had saddled their mounts and smiled at her with an innocent expression on his face. Gabriel was wasting no time in starting his wooing campaign.
“Duchess. I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but will you allow me to accompany you on your ride today?”
“Lord Brentworth. You are welcome to accompany me, of course. But I’m afraid that today’s ride is not one of leisure. I plan to visit the kiln and the mill and stop by to watch the washing of the sheep on my way back.”
His smile grew brilliant. “All the better, then. I’m sure I’ll be able to learn a thing or two about estate management.”
She threw him an incredulous glance. “I doubt it. What could a lord learn about estate management from a mere woman?”
“Ah, but you are no mere woman. You are a duchess. The duke speaks highly of your management of the estate,” he said, coming over to caress the neck of her mare. His long-fingered, elegant hand slid over the glossy coat of the horse, and warmth spread over her as her imagination provided an image of that hand sliding over her skin.
“Does he? My husband indulges me much.”
His eyes narrowed slightly at the word husband. An infinitesimal movement. A flash of something in his gray depths. It was so fast that, had she not been looking closely, she would have missed it. But she was looking. And she had noticed. A hit.Good. She had done it on purpose. Let him remember the role each of them played in this little farce.
“I’m sure the duke speaks the truth,” he replied smoothly, coming over to stand before her. “May I help you mount?”
Disconcerted by his nearness, she nodded. He put his hands on her waist and hoisted her onto the saddle as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Then he helped her place her feet in the stirrups and draped her voluminous riding skirts.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
So saying, he swung onto his own saddle with an effortless movement that spoke of the athleticism of his body and followed her out of the stables.
As they rode, the rolling fields, lush and green, stretched out all around them, dotted with grazing livestock and bordered by meticulously maintained hedgerows. Satisfaction swelled in her as she watched the estate come alive with the gentle bustle of the morning.
Each aspect of her domain reflected her hard work and dedication, and she reveled in the quiet triumph of knowing she had helped transform Stanhope into a prosperous and beautiful haven.
A haven that would be destroyed at Neil Blackwell’s greedy hands. It would be the tenants and workers who depended on the estate who would suffer the most. Was it selfish to want to retain her domain? Or did the selfishness lie in letting it go to an evil man without doing anything to stop it?
As she went about her tasks, meeting with the kiln operator, she expected him to be highhanded and overbearing, even condescending. Or maybe it was more accurate to say she would have preferred him to act thus. It would give her the perfect reason to dislike him. She needed to find some annoying trait, something to hold on to, to avoid falling for him.
But he listened more than he spoke. Praised her enterprises. Asked relevant questions and then listened with interest to her responses.
“Am I to understand that you founded the kiln?” he asked as they exited the building.
“Something like that. I met the Turner sisters when I bought a small creamer in a shop in London. It was so unique and pretty that I asked the shop owner who manufactured it. He directed me to the sisters. They had a little atelier, but they did it all with rudimentary equipment, which made it difficult to escalate production. I offered to fund the kiln and worked with them to establish an apprenticeship program. So far, they have trained over fifty women who now work at the kiln. It provides much-needed work for women, and it produces a tidy income for them as well as the estate.”
“Impressive.” And she could tell he meant it. There was nothing but admiration in his tone.
He once again put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto her horse. This time without asking permission and with the familiarity of habit. There was no salaciousness or impropriety in his touch, and yet, every time he put his hands on her, a shiver of delight spread from that area to radiate throughout her body.
“Where to now?” he asked, swinging onto his horse.
“To the stream. Today, they will wash a special flock of sheep in preparation for the shearing later, and I want to see how the proceedings are going.”
“What makes this flock special?”
Damn, she didn’t want to talk about breeding programs and rams. It was too uncomfortably reminiscent of their own situation.
“I have been trying to improve the quality of the wool the estate produces by cross breeding the sheep,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, but her face heated, nonetheless.Thank goodness they were outside. With luck, he would think the wind, or the sun, had caused her to blush.
