Page 17 of Reforming Lord Neil

His eyebrows shot up, and his expression went from calm confidence to confusion. He likely thought she would welcome whatever horrid thing he had planned. Well, she did not and would never be desperate enough to consider—

“I thought I might work for you.”

Teresa’s bravado hiccoughed. “Pardon?”

The man regarded her a moment as though her head was addled. “I would sleep in your barn. Do odd jobs for you.” His eyes narrowed, then just as quickly a look of understanding came upon his face. “Oh. You thought I meant—”

“Never mind what I thought,” she said hastily, feeling her cheeks warm. “You want to work for me, after pointing out that my funds are limited? That makes no sense, Mr. Duncan.”

“I will not require funds. Only food and a roof overhead.” He replaced his hat, a smirk still upon his face. “Until my family situation rights itself.”

“I see.” Of course, a man of his obvious good breeding would not suggest taking her as a mistress in return for protection or funds. If someone like him wanted a mistress, there were doubtless many willing candidates without calloused hands and sunburned cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I am not certain you understand, Mr. Duncan. We truly cannot hire laborers—”

“Mrs. Clapham, we both know that I am not a laborer. But I am capable of muddling along and offering you an extra set of hands.” He opened his hands at that, palm up, revealing a gentleman’s fine-boned fingers. “I will give you the use of my horse and do as you bid me. In return, I will only want the loft for my quarters and to take my meals with your family.”

He had thought the matter through, had even obtained clothing more suitable to the position he had invented for himself. A hired man who collected no wages. It was a far better proposal than the one Teresa had assumed he was about to make.

“Mr. Duncan,” a bright voice called from up the road. Both the gentleman and Teresa turned to see Caroline coming toward them from where the bend concealed the gate. She held a bundle of fur in her arms. “You came back. Look. I have my kitten.”

Without hesitation, Mr. Duncan lifted a hand to wave to the girl. She waved back, then disappeared again. It was obvious that Caroline would welcome the man into their lives. Having an extra set of eyes to keep watch over the little girl would be as much of a relief as another set of hands to lift Teresa’s load.

“I would like to discuss the matter with my mother,” Teresa said, pulling his attention back to her. “But for now, you may stay another night in the barn.”

That expression appeared again. A smirk she had thought it, but with how naturally it appeared perhaps that was always how he smiled. She raised a hand to forestall him from saying another word. “We will see, Mr. Duncan. I make you no promises.”

He bowed, then took up the horse’s lead and started toward the gate.

Watching him go, Teresa’s stomach unclenched at last. She felt the blush coming back into her cheeks. He was a handsome gentleman, there was no doubt of that, even with his unshaven face. As a widow, and living with her widowed mother, having an outdoor male servant would not harm her reputation. Much. The meanest of gossips might raise their eyebrows, but she was no Society miss whose life depended upon being seen as a virtuous innocent. The matter of her reputation did not worry her at all.

What did concern her, the thing that made her hesitate the most to accept an offer of what amounted to almost free labor, was what being near such a man might do to her.

Her husband had been gone for eighteen months. For a year, she had lived on their tiny farm and no man for miles had caught her eye or her imagination. But having a man of Mr. Duncan’s charm and education occupying the same dinner table as she did—

Teresa shook herself and went to the house to find her mother. They would make the decision together. And Teresa would remind herself, as many times as necessary, that a handsome man did not at all make for a trustworthy one. She need not be distracted by him if she chose not to be. In fact, if they kept him on, Teresa would see to it he did all the things she could not do, and as far away from her as possible.

Chapter Seven

Neil put his folded arms upon the short wood divider that acted as stall wall for Abigail the cow. Mrs. Clapham sat on a milking stool on the other side, the oil lamp hanging above her the only light in the barn. She milked with her cheek against the cow, her eyes closed as she hummed.

She made a pretty picture as a milkmaid. Neil watched her with a measure of envy. Somehow, she had found enough peace in her situation to be at ease, doing a task she had likely never performed until she came to this place.

Caroline sat in the stall, too, upon another stool. She had the kitten in her lap. The little girl spoke quietly to her kitten. “You will live in the barn at night, and find all our mice. In the mornings, you will keep me company during my lessons.”

Mrs. Clapham’s eyes opened, meeting his gaze. She lost her rhythm a moment, but Neil said nothing. She frowned at him, but spoke to her daughter. “Cara, darling, your kitten will likely go where he pleases.”

“That’s what Jill said. She said Tom cats never stay where they ought. But mine will behave, won’t you, sweet kitten?” Caroline nuzzled the top of the kitten’s head. The little orange creature answered with a mew.

Though he had dismissed the curiosity over the women’s circumstances before, it was easier to think upon Mrs. Clapham’s life than his own at the moment. Especially since Mrs. Godwin had enthusiastically accepted his proposal, giving him leave to stop worrying over food, shelter, and how long he could make his funds last.

The milking apparently finished, Mrs. Clapham rose from her stool and gave the cow a pat on its hindquarters. “Thank you, Abigail.”

Neil chuckled and opened the stall for the ladies to exit.

The mother looked to her daughter. “Leave the kitten, Cara. He will be safe and warm in the stall.”

Though her bottom lip protruded, Caroline put the cat down on the stool and came out, closing the stall door behind her.

“Good night, Mr. Duncan.” Caroline curtsied, took the pail from her mother, and walked out of the barn tilted sideways to balance the heavy pail. Neil watched her go, smiling despite himself. He had never spent much time around children. His eldest brother had several little brats, as spoiled as lapdogs, but Caroline amused rather than irritated Neil.