“I would never think you unworthy of anything.”
His glowing admiration warmed her heart.
Mary returned with a platter of roasted quail, pickled vegetables, and meat pies. London standards would consider the meal quaint, but for Waverly, it was a feast. “Mrs. Adare, I have a message from Gellman. He said to tell ya that Bee had her calf,” Mary said.
“Excellent news.” The heifer was overdue by a week and Gellman had become concerned. The farm couldn’t afford to lose a single head of cattle. It was a large part of the income for the estate and one of the few areas her father didn’t scrimp on. “Can you please tell him I will come to the barn as soon as I am able?”
“Yes, Mrs. Adare.” The girl curtsied and left her alone with Langdon.
“You’re visiting the barn?” he asked.
She fiddled with the handle of her fork and nodded. Babies, regardless of whether they were human or animal, had always been her weak spot. Birth was a celebration of life and innocence. “I like to see the newborns.”
Adamant hazel eyes met hers. “I would as well.”
“I hardly think any lady worth her salt would consider visiting livestock as proper entertainment for her guests.” Nor would a proper lady do so herself. Elizabeth was no proper lady. Life had thrown her into situations that would send most society ladies into a faint.
“No, I doubt they would, but it is this guests’ deepest wish to see the miracle of birth.”
“Then I shall grant your wish,” she said with forced gaiety. Inside, she cringed at the knowledge that she would never be able to have the experience of having a child of her own. Her fate had been determined the instant she’d fallen off her pony and injured herself. And it was her own fault. Every bit of it. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the sorrow back into the deep recesses of her mind. Yet it always found its way back to the forefront.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The setting sun spread warm light across the rolling hills. Langdon held out his arm and waited for Elizabeth to slip her hand into the crook. “It is a pleasant evening.”
“Yes, very pleasant,” she said, her hand light on his sleeve.
He fell into step beside her, his boots crunching on the gravel path. The food and company had been exceptional. Throughout the meal, she had shared a few intimate details about her deceased husband, but nothing profound. From what he could discern, however, she was no longer in mourning for him.
“Have you received any new information I should know about?” she asked.
They passed a small line of trees, the leaves swaying from the breeze.
“Not really. Pike was found murdered.”
She blanched, her mouth pinched. “Murdered? By whom?”
“I can’t answer that question. He was found the morning after you left. I have some people looking into it, but thus far, I have received no concrete information.” Whomever was in charge of this smuggler’s ring had deep pockets, yet another reason to delve deeper into Zander’s past. Something in his gut told him the man was key to solving the mystery.
“The poor man, although he was dealing with some unsavory types.” She exhaled a long breath.
“Have you learned anything I should know about?” Although he’d gotten her promise not to go looking for trouble, he was curious if she heeded his advice. He had never met a woman like her. She was checking on livestock. It usually fell to the estate manager, yet there didn’t appear to be one here. Given the state of the house, perhaps there were little funds, and yet Sir Vernon was turned out well. Odd. Very odd.
“No, I have behaved myself, my lord,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Other things have occupied me since my return to the estate.”
