He did not do love. He must remember that, even as every fiber of his being seemed to argue otherwise.
*
By the timethey’d made it downstairs to the kitchen, the air was rich with the scents of onion and rosemary, mingling with the yeasty aroma of fresh-baked bread.
Mrs. Honeycutt stood at the stove, ladling stew into bowls with practiced efficiency. Steam rose from the thick, fragrant liquid. James’s stomach growled loudly. Cecily and Ben were already seated, discussing plans for a vegetable garden.
“The working boys have all been fed and are back on the job.” Mrs. Honeycutt waved her ladle at James. “The way they can eat isalmost alarming. Lord Ashford, you’re too generous, feeding them a midday meal. They should bring their own dinner and be glad for a warm place to eat it.”
“No man can work on an empty stomach.” James took his seat at the head of the table. He would be sad when the dining room was complete and he no longer had an excuse to eat downstairs with the people he’d started to think of as family. Although he was now officially a lord, these were his people. Working people.
“It’s generous of you, my lord,” Ben said. “Everyone’s talking about you in the village. Feeling hopeful about the future for the first time in a decade.”
Cecily rose to help Mrs. Honeycutt bring food to the table.
“Does the lord have to save everyone?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked, though her tone was more fond than cross as she placed a bowl of stew before James.
“Not everyone. But I aim to do what I can to help put food in mouths. With privilege comes responsibility.” His dear Papa had reminded them of that many times when he was a child. He hadn’t thought he’d have privilege again and he had no intention of squandering the gifts that had befallen him.
“Mrs. Honeycutt, this smells like heaven.” Georgiana slipped into her seat. “I shall miss your cooking when we leave.”
When we leave.
He didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“But we have a long time until that day comes,” he said.
Georgiana caught his eye and held his gaze for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to name the feeling that seemed to bind them together—something deeper than friendship, more profound than mere attraction, as if they’d been searching for each other without knowing it.
Mrs. Ellsworth entered, seeming flustered. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Honeycutt. I was interviewing girls from the village for our maidpositions.” She smiled with maternal satisfaction as she surveyed the assembled company. “It’s nice to see people gathered around this old table again.”
James lifted a spoonful of stew to his mouth—rich with tender meat, potatoes, and carrots. “Mrs. Honeycutt, you never cease to amaze.”
“It’ll stick to your ribs anyway,” Mrs. Honeycutt said, her eyes shining. No one loved a compliment about their cooking more than she did.
They’d barely taken three bites when a sharp knock thundered against the kitchen door. Three imperious raps, followed by an impatient, high-pitched voice that cut through the kitchen’s warmth like a winter draft.
“Who could that be?” Mrs. Ellsworth jumped to her feet. “Are we expecting a delivery?”
“Not me,” Mrs. Honeycutt said.
“Nor I,” Georgiana replied, though James noticed her face had gone pale.
“I’ll see who it is.” Mrs. Ellsworth headed toward the kitchen entrance that led directly to the gardens.
A moment later, she returned with a tall, fashionably dressed woman in a traveling coat entirely unsuited to country roads. Her hair was perfectly arranged beneath her hat despite her journey, her lips stained the fashionable rose red of Town, and her hat bore three rather large purple plumes.
“Lord Ashford, may I present Lady Linley,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
Cecily dropped her spoon, the metal clattering against her bowl in the sudden silence.
“Lord Ashford, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Lady Linley’s voice dripped with condescension. “I’ve come to see my children. After a troublesome carriage ride from London, it’s not the reception I anticipated. One would expect a butler or footman toanswer the door, but no one came, so I took it upon myself to use the servant’s entrance. Apparently, my daughters are no longer at the inn, which I had to learn from the barkeep.”
James rose, his chair legs scraping against the flagstone floor. “We did not expect you, Lady Linley. My apologies.” He glanced back at Georgiana, who had grown even paler.
“Well, that’s obvious. My daughters have never been ones for details.” Lady Linley removed her gloves with delicate disdain, one finger at a time, her eyes scanning the kitchen and everyone in it. She looked remarkably like Georgiana—the same light hair and blue eyes—but her expression held a calculating quality that her daughter’s lacked entirely.
Lady Linley’s gaze traveled from James’s head to his feet. “Lord Ashford, how handsome you are.” Her voice changed to more of a purr. “I didn’t know what to expect. The things I’ve heard about you in the village were complimentary but you know how that is.” Her gaze lingered on the breadth of his shoulders before sliding away with practiced nonchalance.
