So she told herself, as she and Thorn put themselves somewhat back together, and mounted their horses, and continued on their way, to finish their work for the day.
And I am merely pleased, perhaps, which is not so bad a thing, that my husband seems to…like me. In more ways than anyone ever has seen fit to.
No, that was not so bad a thing to be pleased about indeed.
Chapter Ten
‘Have we any milk, Langton?’ Thorn asked, likely looking as harried as he felt, given how the cook was regarding him, as he stood in the kitchen’s doorway, darkness but for the moonlight behind him, his coat bundled in his arms like a babe, which wasn’ttoofar from the truth of his current predicament. ‘Having said that, I’ve no idea if cow’s milk is appropriate given the situation.’
‘And what situation might that be, milord?’
This one, Thorn said silently, his eyes communicating the loss at which he was, as he pulled back a corner of his coat, to reveal a tiny pink snout.
The things I do for my wife.
‘Ah,’ Langton said, ushering Thorn in, and pulling the chair closest to the fire away from the table so he could sit. ‘I’m no expert on the rearin’ of pigs, but I’d think cow’s milk is as good as their mum’s, though in the little ones it can give them some…upset. Not sure what else to give ’im as I expect he won’t take to the teat?’
‘Afraid not,’ Thorn said, shaking his head. ‘We found him beside a dead sow, she must’ve passed since the feed this morning, and the others had been taken under wing by another, but this little runt refused to go anywhere.’
Langton nodded sagely, and sadly, for no matter how much one knew about the rearing of pigs, it didn’t take an expert of any sort to know runts, particularly those who refused to adapt, didn’t stand a great chance in this world.
‘I’ll get a beaker and warm some milk for ye.’
‘Thank you, Langton.’
Thorn sighed, his day—all of it, from joy, to desire, to laughter, to work, to confusion, to desperation, catching up with him as the fire warmed him from a chill he’d not felt till now.
Glancing down at the tiny creature in his arms, he wondered if he was cut out for any of this really. Being a farmer, holding a life such as this in his hands, knowing the likelihood of preserving it was slim; being responsible for so many lives lord of this manor as he was, husband to his wife as he was. When it had been merely an intangible idea—this life—even as he’d stood in the House of Lords and gone to balls and all the rest, it hadn’t felt quite so daunting. When he’d been alone, unable to imagine what it would be like to take all this duty and responsibility on, in a sense, it had been easier. Now, as he lived it all, he couldn’t help but bloody wonder if he was good enough, strong enough, capable enough. Enough, really.
He wondered if he was cut out for this life, for marriage, for—
‘Here you go, milord,’ Langton said gently, setting a beaker of warm milk on the table.
Thorn took it up, shifting so he could tempt the tiny mite to drink some; he may not know much about rearing babes of any kind, but he’d seen enough mothers of all species feeding their young to know the basics.
‘Ye hungry yourself?’
‘I am, though I’ll wait for Hypatia, she shan’t be long, I think. She was closing up for the night, but insisted I not wait to take care of this one. We managed to check on them all, and catalogueabout half. Though until the veterinarian comes, who knows if the numbers will stand.’
‘I’ve a pie in the oven, a nice bit of salt beef in it Ian dug up from somewhere b’fore he left, though best not to ask where. It’ll keep till the missus—her ladyship—has come back.’
‘Thank you, Langton.’
‘The vet will be by tomorrow in the afternoon, and Danny an’ Fred will be ’ere in the morn to await your orders.’
‘Excellent,’ he nodded, distracted by the piglet he held opening its eyes with a curious snort, before rooting at the beaker. ‘There you are…’
‘Her ladyship seems to know quite a lot about them critters, if she’ll tell me what’s best for it, I can see if I can find what’s needed.’
‘She very well might, Langton, however, I have taken charge of this one’s care. Her ladyship shall not be burdened with it.’
Langton said nothing, but somehow Thorn heard the smile nonetheless.
It bolstered him somewhat, in his conviction that his choice had been the right one. When he and Hypatia had found the mite, tucked away in a corner by its mother, he’d known the choice they faced. End its life then and there, or try to save it. And he’d seen it in Hypatia’s eyes, not a lack of courage in the face of mercy, but a hope that the life could be saved, and he’d also known that she’d taken care of enough, of too many, throughout her life already; she shouldn’t have to tend to one more. Not if he could ease that burden, take that responsibility for her. So he’d swaddled the thing, and promised her he would do what he could.
So I shall.
His attention was stolen then by the runt, who had summarily finished his milk, and was rooting for more. Raising the beaker,Thorn signalled to Langton, who obliged, and so the creature resumed his meal.
