“She avoided me last night.”
Ellis shook his head. “You stayed away too long, Robbie. Now that she has you, she’s in a state.” He heaped coal into the brazier and picked up the bellows.
“I’m not staying,” Rob blurted, giving honesty for honesty.
“Thought not. I don’t know what faradiddle she told to get you here, but I figured if you wanted to come home, you would ’a. We’ve managed—we all have—without you, so don’t feel obliged, no matter what my wife says to you.” His words had a defensive edge.
“My obligations are in London.” It wasn’t a lie. A new assignment waited for him there, the possibility of advancement.
Ellis stopped to peer at him. “When we saw the dispatches from Waterloo, she hoped you’d come home, but then we heard you were in Paris.”
Rob nodded. “Lord Rockford found a use for me.”
The name meant nothing to Ellis, who waited without asking for more. After a moment, he turned back to his work, and Rob added, “I seem to have a knack for protecting ambassadors.”And uncovering their dirty secrets.
“Bodyguard, are you?”
“More or less.”No point in elaborating on ‘more.’Rob thought about leaving since Ellis had no idea what notion Emma had in her pretty little head than Rob did, but Ellis turned the subject.
“I saw you left a fine mount in your Da’s stable. A great bay with black markings.”
Rob accepted the change of subject. “The hostler looks a mite young. Is he able?”
Ellis’s face softened. “Alfred. He’ll be well enough eventually. Knows enough to bring his questions to me. I’ll see to it the beast is cared for properly. I mean to have a look later today when I’m done here.”
“I’d be honored to have you look him over, Ellis, but not until later. I’ve a mind for a good gallop.”Before I sink into the megrims. He’d had enough family drama for now.
“Ride over to Willowbrook while you’re at it. Take a good look,” Ellis shot at his retreating back.
Willowbrook? Rob stopped. “Caulfield property, isn’t it? Does the earl still have tenants?” He thought of the woman he saw there.A relative perhaps? I don’t see the earl letting it go. David always admired the place.He didn’t care to think about David.
Something in Ellis’s expression struck Rob as peculiar. After a pause, he said, “Just look it over.”
Rob waved it off and kept walking.I’m not here to inspect the Shire, damn it. I’m just going for a ride along the river.
*
Willowbrook’s fields enjoyeda four-crop rotation at Lucy’s instigation after her reading of agricultural journals convinced her of the importance. The tenants followed her lead, with few objections most years, but this year they balked at her instructions for the third field.
“Turnips? A whole field?” Ezekiel Philpot frowned. “Begging your pardon, Miss Whitaker, but there’ll be more’n Willowbrook can eat.”
“We’ll store some and sell the rest, Zeke. Millard’s pigs will eat them. The roots pull nutrients from deep. Next year we’ll put barley here and have a better yield.”
He looked for a moment as if he would argue. Vincent Thatcher chuckled when Zeke clamped his jaw shut. The two men set themselves to plowing with no further argument. They’d learned to respect “Miss Whitaker’s fancy book ideas,” when they saw results, and Willowbrook had begun to prosper.
Lucy knelt and ran her fingers through the turned earth. What she saw made her hum with satisfaction. She rose, brushing the dirt from her hands, more confident than ever of the value of her methods. The day filled her with joy, and she turned her face to the sun, glorying in a job well done. Marjory, her older sister, would have chastised her for exposing her precious complexion to the spring sunshine; Lucy didn’t care. She had few hopes—and no desire—for the sort of life in which it mattered. She had learned to trust only in herself and in the work she could control.
As she turned to watch the men working the fields, movement on the edge of the woods to the north caught her attention. She had no problem recognizing the huge bay horse with its proud bearing and black mane and tail. The arrogant visitor of yesterday had returned. He sat leaning across his saddle, staring in her direction.
Marjorie’s teachings about a lady’s demeanor came back to her.She would be mortified. What must that man think of me?Bile rose to sour her mouth. Lucy didn’t need the approval of the interloper, not for her femininity or lack of it. She had found men—and their opinion—to be an untrustworthy lot at best.
She set off with a stride that would have given her sister apoplexy. As she approached the man, she had the perplexing thought that she would prefer his approval for her farming methods rather than her appearance, but that seemed even less likely.
He didn’t move, and as she came near, his intense study of her appearance rankled. She raised her chin and stood, feet planted firmly apart, arms akimbo. She stopped short of demanding to know his business. “May I help you, Sir Robert?”
“You remembered my name.” He leaned one elbow on a muscular thigh and peered down at her.
“We’re busy, as you can see. Turnips don’t plant themselves.”
