She smiled at him. He did not fit theprescription of an ordinary aristocrat. His awareness, andconfidence belied undertones of a man who cut his teeth by rollingup his sleeves and working with the peasantry. Hadn’t he said heworked with his tenants, helping them to rebuild their homes afterfire swept through the village? With his arms behind his head,studying the golden coconuts bunched in the tree above, she felt hewas a man who had the ability to command everyone’s attention, aman born to lead.
More commendable was his intense andadmirable desire to succeed. “Tell me what you want to do. I’d loveto hear your plans.”
“Alternating pastures with planting grains.At the minimum, plant clover in place of fallow.”
She paused to wipe her hands. “It wouldincrease arable land but digging up established pastures is hardwork.”
He sat up, his arm bent over his knee. “Myfather called my ideas folly. He’s not forward thinking enough. Thegrain yields would be fantastic.”
“How?” She wanted him to defend his beliefshis father had disregarded.
“Clover enriches the soil, works as afertilizer. The clover can support livestock, turning out moremilk, cheese, meat. The manure left behind maintains soilfertility.”
To her eye, Nicholas seemed fiercelyindependent and demonstrated excessive pride in his ideas. To growup with an equally independent and dominating father? She blew outa breath. The relationship between father and son was an explosiveformula. “Brilliant. What other ideas do you have?”
He stood, paced a few steps and came backagain, his expression thoughtful. “Land conversions, land drainsand reclamation, irrigation, four crop rotation.”
Heavens, the man was something to look at,so enthused was she by his vision. “What is four croprotation?”
“Growing a series of crops in the same areain sequenced seasons.”
“For instance?”
He threw up his hands, gesturing like anorator. “It is not a new idea, been practiced by Mid-easternfarmers for six thousand years, yet timeless in its applicability.Crops of wheat, turnips, barley and clover are alternated eachyear. The soil will not be robbed of one kind of nutrient, reducingpathogens and pests that occur in the lands when planted with thesame crop.”
His deep baritone held excitement andpromise. “With the increase in produce, the tenants could selltheir surplus for their own profit to distant localities that wereexperiencing shortages. Thus, improving the lives of the tenants onthe estates.”
Her little village in southern Englandraised corn, wheat, cows and other crops. His ideas wererevolutionary and could help Deconshire. “How could it work? Thereis price fixing and tariffs from town to town. AndI doubt the Lordswould allow such power in the hands of the tenants.”
“Once I am duke and take my place in theHouse of Lords, I’ll use my political influence to develop anational market, free of tariffs, tolls and custom barriers. Thepoint I’ll drive home is the farmers will be more effective landmanagers by becoming low cost producers, and enrich everyone. It isa win, win. What do you think?”
Alexandra stared at him, completelyabsorbed, trying to grasp the significance of his groundbreakingingenuity. “The quiet cough of a rich man is louder than thebraying of six paupers. If anyone can do it, it would be you,Nicholas.” She drew her finger across the meat and sucked the juiceoff. “I can’t understand why your father would reject yourideas.”
“I’m the oldest, the heir and he demandedthe best from me. When my mother died, our family was irrevocablybroken. Without her calming presence, he ramped up his demands onhis children through his expectations of education and marryingwell. He became silent, distant, a kind of shadow presence, hidingin his office behind closed doors.”
“He was in mourning.”
“But the mourning has lasted for years.”Disgust lined his voice. “Not that I was a perfect son. Iembarrassed my father with my brawling.
Fortunately, my Uncle Cornelius stepped in,becoming my surrogate father. Unusual, because he’s not really myuncle but a close friend of the family. When I was snagged intotrouble at Eton, Uncle Cornelius intervened and made sure I wasn’tthrown out. When I was taken advantage of by a card shark, herescued me from a gambling debt. And after I graduated fromcollege, he took me on a European tour.”
“You were lucky to have your UncleCornelius.” Alexandra now understood how horrible that time musthave been for Nicholas, provided with every luxury and advantage,yet absent, were the needs of the heartthe necessary connectionbetween father and son. She pulled the roast off the skewer andplaced it on a pewter platter. “Let’s eat.”
Nicholas ogled the succulent meat, drippingwith juices, and placed the platter on the table. Alexandra lit oneof the precious beeswax candles. He sliced the meat, while shepeeled and sliced orange papaya. The pewter plates she had washedwere heaped with yams and carrots and their tankards filled withwater. He seated her, and then sat at the head of the table.
“Excellent,” said Nicholas, sampling a sweethoneyed yam, and then savoring the fruit.
She smiled and they ate in silence. Outside,palms swayed in the breeze, the soft sound like whispering secrets.Over the brim of her tankard, she studied him, a glimmer of the manwhose journey she shared had come to light. Unfair discipline andrigid rules left Nicholas without the ability to displayvulnerability. When life was tough, negative feelings were to besuffered and internalized. His stubbornness, sometimesunsympathetic and definitelydominating flaws became exaggerated.His darkness was held within. He hid behind his hurt.
Nicholas’s mind reeled like a hunting dogbacktracking through the country, turning back and turning back,tracing out the way it had come. To block the dog, who wanted tolurk in all those dark places, he could remember his mother and hersweet face and matching disposition. How she would stroke his headwhen he was ill and tell him everything would be fine. How she hadbeen the softening touch to his father’s sternness.
How she died in her husband’s arms. How theyloved one another. To have a love like that was once ininfinity.
The loss of his mother had been monumentalfor the whole family. His father’s grief magnified the severity ofher passing. He refused to listen to Nicholas’s ideas onimprovements on the estate. With all his children, he bully-whippedthem to marry spouses that enriched the Rutland legacy. His fatherhad thrust upon him the beautiful and most sought after, LadySusannah Tomkins. She possessed impeccable breeding and would bringadded social, political and financial power to the Rutlandfamily.
Lady Susannah wastoo perfect. Like a prizemare, she had been coifed and coddled from birth. Stuffy, of littlelearning and spirit, she was far from the spectrum of Nicholas’sinterest.
The dread that was inescapable rose, theexplosion. His father. Nicholas swallowed a knotted lump in histhroat. He didn’t want to think of the possibility his father mightbe dead. He forced the cruel notion down. So much left unsaid. Somuch to undo.
