‘Is something the matter at Rainton?’
‘Very much so, according to him.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘But it’s a farming matter. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.’
‘Why would it bore me?’ She passed him the gravy jug. ‘My father is a gentleman farmer. Maybe I can help?’
‘I’d be delighted if you could.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose your father kept cows?’
‘Yes. Galloways mostly, with a few Ayrshires for milk.’
‘Really?’ He put down the knife and fork that he’d just picked up. ‘Well, in that case, I recently bought a herd of Red Devons. They were supposed to be delivered at the end of August, but it seems there was a misunderstanding and they arrived early, just after we arrived in London, in fact. It’s caused some disruption. We’ve never had cattle at Rainton before and Sewell seems to think they’re going to ruin the whole estate. He hasn’t specified how, but his letter suggests we’ll be lucky if the house is still standing when we get back.’
‘That sounds a little over-dramatic. In my experience, cows prefer to live outdoors, and they certainly prefer eating grass to tapestries.’ Florence speared a piece of roast potato and waved it at him. ‘Why does he object? Red Devons are a very resilientbreed, and cattle farming is good for the land. Their dung is very useful for healthy soil.’
‘Is that so?’ Leo’s lips twitched. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a young lady use the worddungbefore.’
‘Sorry.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose I probably shouldn’t mention it at the dinner table, but I couldn’t think of another way to phrase it. Besides, it’s the truth.’
‘And good to know.’ He raised his wine glass.
‘As for them potentially ruining your estate, it’s your estate, therefore it’s your decision, is it not?’
‘Not in Sewell’s eyes. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a number of things. Change is anathema to him. It makes me wonder if it wouldn’t just be better to give in and keep everything as it was when my father was alive, at least for a few years.’ He sighed. ‘I could always sell the herd on.’
‘Or you could get a new steward?’ She clicked her tongue. ‘No offence to Mr Sewell.’
‘I’ve thought the same thing, believe me. I’d be thrilled if he’d retire, but my father left specific instructions stating that he should remain in his job. Mrs Fitch too.’
‘Oh, yes, Mrs Fitch…’ Florence gritted her teeth at the mention of the housekeeper, the woman who’d so smugly relayed her husband’s wishes regarding the management of the household. That had been before she and Leo had decided to put the past behind them, of course, but the subject still rankled… ‘She mentioned something about your father leaving a letter of instructions. Then she took umbrage when I suggested they might simply be guidelines.’
He gave a laugh, though there was no humour in it. ‘It’s obvious you never met my father. He had very strong views on how the house and estate ought to be run, even after his death. His instructions aren’t legally binding, of course, but the estate thrived under his care. It would be foolish of me to completelyignore his instructions just because I have a few ideas of my own.’
‘Maybe your ideas are good too?’
‘Maybe they are. Or maybe they would prove to be dismal failures, in which case Sewell and Fitch would be waiting in the wings ready to say “I told you so”.’
‘But at least you would know if your ideas worked.’
He looked pensive for a moment, before shaking his head. ‘I wish I could do more, but it’s been hard enough making any changes, like introducing the herd, and not just because I’ve had to argue with Sewell every step of the way. Going against my father’s instructions makes me feel guilty too, like I’m letting him down, even though the rational part of my brain tells me I’m the marquess now.’
‘That must be difficult.’ She nodded sympathetically, remembering what Cassie had told her about how their father had tried to mould him into another version of himself. She had a sudden mental image of a motherless twelve-year-old boy, whose sister had just left for her first Season, being forced to endure that kind of domineering influence alone. Just the idea of it made her want to get up, walk around the table and wrap her arms around him.
‘It could be worse.’ Leo tucked back into his dinner. ‘He could have left the estate in debt. Then I’d have much bigger problems to deal with.’
‘I suppose so, although that doesn’t mean this isn’t a problem too.’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘But since the new herd is already at Rainton, you might as well see how that particular change goes, no matter how much Mr Sewell complains.’
‘You’re right, I will. Thank you.’ His gaze warmed as he smiled across the table at her. ‘For both the support and the advice.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She smiled back. ‘So did your father mention anything about marriage in his letter?’
‘Mmm?’ Leo’s fork seemed to freeze in mid-air.
‘It’s just that Cassie thought he would have chosen a bride for you himself if he’d had time, so I wondered if his letter gave you any instructions about marriage?’
There was a moment of hesitation before Leo started eating again. ‘No.’
Which meant yes, she thought, biting into a carrot. Almost certainly, his father had told him to marry somebody refined and well-bred like Amabel, and instead he’d found himself trapped with her. No wonder he’d been so angry about their marriage. It wasn’t just that she’d made him a laughing stock, it was the fact that she’d caused him to fail his father too. He must have felt so guilty. And the fact that he wasn’t flinging the accusation in her face now was profoundly touching, even if her food didn’t taste quite so delicious any more.
And what else was in the letter? she wondered, watching her husband out of the corner of her eye while they chewed in companionable silence. Some kind of stipulation about Mrs Fitch continuing to run the household perhaps, as there was with Sewell and the estate? If there was, then at least that meant it wasn’t the personal attack that she’d thought, although it still didn’t seem entirely fair. Not fair at all, in fact…
