Cordelia’s eyebrows shot up as she regarded him. “I… I cannot be seen on the duke’s horse. It would be… improper. People might think me—” she paused as she gathered her words, “—impertinent.”
Justin clicked his tongue. “A pity you are so hung up on appearances, Lady Cordelia,” he replied, letting some of his cockney accent shine through. “If you cared about saving this estate as much as what people thought of you, more might have been done already.”
Justin took great pleasure in watching Cordelia’s cheeks bloom pink. He was reminded of how well it suited her. Holding her nose in the air, she put a foot in the stirrup and swung onto Brutus’s back, arranging her skirts as she settled into the sidesaddle.
“Walk on,” she commanded, brandishing her crop.
Well, Justin thought to himself,should have given her a taste of her own medicine ages ago.
It was a brilliant day as they rode out onto the estate. The sun was warm; Justin could feel the spring slipping into summer. Cordelia urged Brutus into a canter and Buttercup followed behind, her gracile legs keeping up well enough.
“I believe this is where we had our last conversation about the estate,” Cordelia said, her eyes flashing as she looked over at him.
“Yes, it is,” he said, surveying the lake. He swung his leg over the top of Buttercup’s neck to dismount. “Why was this put in?” he asked.
She looked surprised that he’d asked her such a sharp question. “Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you already know and want to school me about my childhood home?”
Justin laughed. “The former.”
“I… I believe it was fashionable at the time. I think it was in the late eighteenth century. One of my forebears had it completed. Took them nearly twenty years,” she said.
Justin nodded his head. The whole valley seemed to slope into that point. The water was shining in the morning sun, glinting like precious gemstones. “I know why your crops have been so poor these past years,” Justin said.
“Oh?”
“There has been too much water runoff to sustain the topsoil. Water has been trickling into this valley, taking with it important nutrients,” Justin said.
Cordelia gathered her skirts as she prepared to dismount. He walked over to her, offering her his hand. She took it and slid off, coming to stand face to face with him, closer than they were when they waltzed. Cordelia’s cheeks were already flushed from the ride, and tendrils of dark, curling hair hung by her cheeks. She looked up at Justin through thick lashes, and he found himself staring at her lush, pink mouth.
Cordelia cleared her throat, which was a good thing. Justin, snapping back to reality, stepped back and took in a deep breath of fresh country air, hoping that would cool him off.
“How do you know so much about farming, Mr. Wright?” she asked, biting her lip as she turned her gaze back to the lake.
The small gesture did nothing to calm the heat that was pooling in his belly. “I took physical sciences at Cambridge, and a little chemistry here and there. But I’ve been making use of your father’s extensive library.”
She nodded, closing her eyes as a breeze toyed with the hairs at the nape of her neck. Justin had the sudden urge to place his fingers there, and then to trail them down the length of her spine. Taking off his hat, he ran a hand through his hair, roughly, trying to regain some sense. He’d always thought Cordelia pretty, a nymph-like and unattainable thing, but these thoughts were developing the disturbing trend of happening more often.
He slammed his hat back on his head. “Right,” he said. “I think I know how to fix it.”
“You do?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Let me show you.”
*
Cordelia was positivelyexhausted by the time they’d ridden back into the stable yard. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows from the yew trees that lined the property. Even Brutus hung his head low as they trotted at a slow pace down the main gravel path.
They’d spent the entire afternoon visiting with farmers, taking notes on fields, growing patterns, and which areas had gone fallow. They’d ridden the length of the estate to see where the crops were dying. They’d spoken to almost every living soul who worked Hollyhead’s sprawling land, and were called in for a cup of tea or a sandwich to discuss plans and hear grievances.
“My goodness!” Portia called out as they approached. She held up a hand, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I was ready to send out a search party.”
“No need,” Cordelia replied. It was far too warm out for a velvet riding habit; she was covered in sweat and caked with dust.
“Bloody hell, you look like you’ve been through battle,” her sister mentioned, taking a hold of Brutus’s reins as she dismounted.
“I feel like it as well,” Cordelia replied, though under her breath.
Looking over, she saw that Buttercup was nuzzling Mr. Wright affectionately as he handed over the reins to the stable boy. She could hardly blame that traitorous mare. It seemed that everyone who’d had the pleasure of Mr. Wright’s company was greatly taken with him.
