“Oh, but there are pressing matters with the estate that do require your attention. The steward mentioned something about tenant farmers in Southmead having reported a blight among the barley fields. He has been managing but fears it’s spreading and insists only you can coordinate the necessary inspections and negotiate with neighboring estates for replacement seed. It’s a delicate matter, Nathaniel. We can ill afford another poor harvest.”
“Of course not, Mother. I’ll see to it at once.”
He sighed inwardly, seeing his hope for a quick escape evaporate. But if there was indeed a plague, he needed to make sure it was nipped in the bud. Not only the estate, but all the tenant farmers stood to lose significant profits if the harvest was lost. An estate like Greystone could survive a bad harvest or two, but many of his tenant farmers couldn’t.
He followed his mother into the manor, the oppressive weight of his responsibilities settling over his shoulders again. Heavy portraits of grim ancestors lined the walls, their painted eyes following his progress, reminding him of his duties.
No wonder Alice had fled.
Thetwodayssincehis arrival at Greystone Manor had settled into a rhythm—a whirlwind of activity that, paradoxically, felt both exhausting and tedious. At dawn, he was already out in the fields, his boots sinking into the damp, fertile soil as he conferred with tenants and laborers. Together they inspected the barley crops for signs of infection, uprooting andburning the diseased patches to halt the spread. The steward and local land agents shadowed him, offering their own counsel on how best to salvage what remained of the harvest and safeguard future yields. Afternoons were spent meeting grain suppliers and neighboring estate owners to discuss potential grain shortages and cooperative solutions.
By the time Nathaniel returned to the manor each evening, streaked with dust and smelling faintly of smoke and earth, he should have relished the prospect of a hot bath and a moment’s reprieve. Instead, as he lowered himself into the steaming water, the ache in his muscles gave way to a deeper, more disquieting ache. He missed Alice. Missed her body nestled between his knees, her round bottom pressing back into his hardness, her breath catching in little gasps as he stroked her with sure fingers until she came apart in his arms. The memory was so vivid it made his cock swell. Groaning, he wrapped his hand around himself, tugging hard and fast until his release left him drained and hollow.
Even the library, once his sanctuary, offered no comfort tonight as he entered and sat down to work on the ciphers. The high shelves lined with leather-bound volumes felt oppressive, the air too still. He missed another library. That of their home in London. The intimate moments by the fire. Alice’s face, tender and limned by the fire as her knitting needles moved restlessly, spinning out soft swathes of cloth. Her sharp mind and calm voice had always filled the room, transforming his labor into something almost pleasurable. Now, without her, even the whisky he had poured earlier tasted flat.
It frightened him, this need for her. If they couldn’t find a way forward, if they failed again as husband and wife, he wasn’t sure he could bear it.
His mother, on the other hand, seemed to have an agenda of her own. As he sat scrawling figures and testing patterns,she swept into the library in a rustle of black bombazine and lavender water, her expression fixed in what she clearly imagined was an air of pleasant command. He raised his eyebrows even as he stood at her unexpected entrance.
“Mother. What brings you to the library? May I be of assistance?”
She didn’t respond to his not-so-subtle attempt to let her know she was interrupting. “Nathaniel, I wanted to let you know I’ve arranged a small house party. Guests will begin arriving tomorrow.”
The small irritation at the interruption turned into full annoyance. He looked at her sharply, a frown tugging at his brow. “A house party? Now? Mother, what were you thinking? We’re dealing with an agricultural emergency.”
“Oh, pish.” She waved a hand, settling into one of the chairs opposite his desk. “It’s been planned for weeks. I couldn’t possibly call it off at this late date. Imagine the scandal.”
“I don’t give a damn about scandal. We’re burning half the barley fields to save the rest from blight, and the tenants are anxious about their livelihoods. I won’t have time for polite small talk and country dances.”
“You don’t need to,” she said with infuriating calm. “Louisa and I will handle the entertaining. You need only appear at dinner and, of course, the ball at the end of the week.”
He clenched his jaw. “A ball. Perfect. Just what I need while I’m trying to save the estate’s crops.”
“It’s not as if you’re doing the labor yourself. You’re the viscount. Delegate, Nathaniel. That’s what stewards are for.”
“Iamdelegating, but I also need to coordinate efforts and reassure the tenants. This isn’t the time for diversion.”
“Really, you do take everything so gravely. It’s only a week. Surely you can manage your duties and still attend a few dinners.”
His eyes narrowed. “A week? I don’t plan on staying here that long. As soon as I’ve done what I must, I’ll be returning to London. I told you I have unfinished business in town.”
His mother’s lips thinned, and she gave a delicate sniff. “Your priorities are entirely skewed. All those years gallivanting about as a common spy have quite ruined your sense of duty. You are Lord Greystone now. Your main business should be your estate and your title. Your brother never—”
“Don’t.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Don’t bring Edmund into this.”
To her credit, she faltered slightly. Then, with a harrumph, she gathered her skirts and rose. “Very well. But don’t expect the world to wait on your convenience forever, Nathaniel. You are the head of this family now.”
And with that, she swept from the room, leaving him seething in his thoughts. He grabbed the glass of whisky and tossed back the contents in one quick motion. The warmth spreading down his throat to his belly helped him steady his mind.
The head of the family, indeed. As if he could ever forget it. The burden weighed heavily on his shoulders. And if he was ever in danger of not acting in accordance with her mother’s lofty ideas of what a lord should be, she was never short of criticisms and not-so-subtle barbs. Knowing this, why hadn’t it occurred to him that she would do the same—or worse—to Alice?
He learned to deal with her cutting words out of self-preservation at a young age, but Alice hadn’t, and his unforgivable obliviousness had caused his marriage to fall apart.
Alice. How had she taken the news that he would be away a few more days than he originally intended? Her lack of response to the telegram he had sent her the day after his arrival, as soon as he had realized he would need to stay longer, didn’t bode well. She had already been piqued by his departure. He couldn’t imagine she would have been any happier to hear of any delays.Pray God these complications didn’t drive another wedge into their marriage. Especially not now that they had begun forging a fragile truce.
CHAPTER 18
Hismother’s“littlehouseparty” was, as Nathaniel had expected, an infuriating affair—a transparent scheme that seemed designed to manipulate him. He could not yet discern the exact aim of her machinations, but the abundance of unattached ladies in attendance, from young debutantes to more experienced widows, each paraded before him with barely veiled intent, gave him a weird feeling in his gut. It was awkward in the extreme.
