Daisy’s stomach tightened. Mr. Kemp was the new estate manager, having taken over less than a month ago, and nothing good ever came from an unexpected visit from a steward.
Two months had passed since the old Duke of Lovington’s death. Two months since everything had changed.
And not for the better.
A poor harvest had plagued them from the start—first the dry spring, then the relentless rains of August. With the season’s yield only a quarter of what it should have been, her father would not have enough to meet his rent.
Which meant trouble.
Lord Calvin, Alastair’s uncle, was still acting as landlord, despite Alastair now holding the title in name.
Daisy swallowed against the unease low in her belly. She had only encountered Lord Calvin a handful of times since that awful day when he had torn through the willow branches and found her with his nephew.
He had not spoken a word of it to her father, but he had not needed to. In the weeks that followed, he’d extended his contempt to her entire family.
And although Daisy knew why he would do this, she didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell her father.
Her father loved her fiercely. She was his only daughter, and he often boasted about her to others, full of pride for the young woman she had become. Daisy could not bear to disappoint him, to tell him that his precious daughter had been caught in an embrace that had cost them more than just her reputation.
Her father had not gone so far as to forbid her from seeing Alastair, but he had, on multiple times, expressed his concern.
Daisy’s shame, along with guilt, hurt nearly as much as losing Alastair had.
The fallout would eventually hurt her entire family so much more.
“Father.” Daisy shook his shoulder using more force, jolting him awake. When he opened his eyes, he pretended he had not been asleep. “Mr. Kemp is here to speak with you.”
Her father’s mouth pressed into a thin line. By now, neither of them pretended that a visit like this was anything less than a hardship.
“Send him in, Daisy.” He straightened his back, his tone unusually tense as he sent her to fetch the austere gentleman.
“This way, Mr. Kemp.” She beckoned the estate manager to precede her into the parlor.
The room was small, but it was cozy, and a cool breeze blew through an open window. Upon seeing the man to the settee across from her father, she closed the two inside.
But she didn’t return to the kitchen.
In order to know what was coming, so that she might prepare for any troubles that lay ahead, Daisy listened through the wood.
Out of necessity, rather than curiosity.
Because her father, bless him, took to heart his position as the head of the family. He would carry their burdens alone for as long as possible, which would only make matters worse in the long run.
The floor creaked, and she recognized the sound of her father rising to greet the other man. It was the movement of a man whose bones ached from a lifetime of labor.
“Might I ask my daughter to bring tea?”
“This isn’t a social visit, Mr. Carpenter. And you must be aware that Lord Calvin’s patience has been dwindling for some time now. Your rents are in arrears, and this crop looks to be no better than the two years prior.”
Daisy’s heart plummeted.
She couldn’t make out what was said next, as Mr. Kemp’s words dropped to an incomprehensible murmur, but then?—
“A fortnight! But my wife can’t be moved. She’s in the family way. I beg of you. One more season. His lordship will not regret it. I’ll do anything.”
Daisy swallowed around her suddenly swollen throat. She’d never heard her father sound like this before, desperate, pleading.
Her mother’s late-in-life pregnancy was both a gift and a curse. Because although she seemed well enough, the midwife had ordered her to remain abed through the end of her confinement. And managing the farm without her mother had been difficult.
