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“Is tomorrow ‘often’?” Meg asked.
“Yes,” Caroline said. “It most certainly is.”
“But I would submit that the day after tomorrow is not.” Lord Benning had the audacity to wink at Meg. “You might try for that.”
“The day after tomorrow is not,” Meg repeated with newfound authority.
Lord Benning laughed, and no matter that she was quite obviously being outmaneuvered by his and her four-year-old’s newfound pact, Caroline found herself laughing too.
“Very well,” Caroline said. “We shall come again the day after tomorrow. But you, my lord, must not feel any obligation to meet us here. John can see to our needs quite nicely.”
“I am sure you are right. Today, however, I had hoped to be here when you arrived, and I neglected to apologize for my late arrival.” He paused. “For several months, my steward has been unsuccessful in trying to procure young apple trees for our orchard. I mentioned this in a letter to Henry’s brother-in-law, Lord Dunsbourne. Dunsbourne runs a large apple orchard in Berkshire and was good enough to have some saplings sent to me. They arrived this morning, and with my steward gone, it was necessary for me to oversee the planting.”
“I am glad to hear that you have the saplings now, even if their coming took longer than you’d hoped.” She hesitated. “It does seem strange that your steward encountered so much difficulty locating something so seemingly commonplace as apple trees.”
“Agreed. And I intend to discover who refused to sell to him.”
Caroline offered him a puzzled look. “Is it certain that the fault lies with those who provide the trees, then? I had thought perhaps the error lay with your steward.” He was silent for a moment, and Caroline experienced a wave of misgiving. “Forgive me,” she said. “I know nothing of these things, so I should not have shared my thoughts so freely.”
“No. I appreciate your insight.” Lord Benning sounded thoughtful. “It was foolish of me to make that assumption. I should certainly look into both sides of the equation.” His expression cleared slightly. “But enough on that subject. I also wished to tell you that upon my return from the vicarage, I spoke with Giles, and the family we spoke of yesterday should have received their first delivery this morning.”
Caroline smiled. And then, realizing that he likely could not tell how pleased the news made her, she raised her veil so that he could see her face. “Thank you. I could not have asked for a better contributing partner for that endeavor.”
The look in his dark eyes softened, and she found herself glad that she could see them more clearly.
“I hope you will not hesitate to inform me if you learn of others with a similar need.”
“I will not,” she promised.
A young man dressed in the clothing of a farm laborer exited the milking parlor. He carried a pail in each hand and was whistling the same tune Caroline had heard some time ago.
“I’d best take Meg home,” she said, drawing down her veil so it covered her face once more. “We have been here far longer than I’d anticipated. Nora undoubtedly has our midday meal ready and will be wondering what has become of us.”
Lord Benning stepped back a pace. “Ah, well, I learned at a very young age that displeasing the cook is never a good idea, so I will not delay you further.”
A picture of young Lord Benning coming afoul of the Farwell Hall cook filled her mind. “I daresay there’s a story there somewhere.”
“Multiple stories, I fear.” He gave a rather charming half grin. “I was a slow learner when it came to pestering our cook, but a full confession will have to wait for another day.”
Unexpectedly pleased that he anticipated conversing with her again, Caroline smiled. “I shall remember to ask you about it.”
He chuckled. “I would expect nothing less.”
Meg appeared at her side, holding a dandelion she’d plucked from a plant growing up against the stable wall. She held it up to the gentleman. “Here, Lord Benting,” she said. “This is for you. Thank you for helping me ride Ginger.”
Lord Benning took the proffered flower. “Thank you, Meg. That is very kind.”
Seizing her daughter’s hand before Meg opted to go after a second dandelion, Caroline offered the gentleman a small curtsy. “Good day to you, my lord.”
Still holding the yellow weed, he inclined his head. “Good day, Caroline.”
* * *
Benedict leaned back in the comfortable leather-upholstered chair in his father’s office and gazed into the last of the flames flickering in the fireplace. After three productive days on the farm, he had every reason to feel well pleased. The new apple trees were planted and seemed to be taking to their new soil well. No more cows had contracted cowpox, and those they’d quarantined in the north barn had all recovered well enough to be released into the pasture again. The milkmaids who had become ill were healthy again and had each returned to work at the milking parlor. Even the weather had improved over the last few days, with sunny skies and warm temperatures filling the fields with wildflowers and the air with buzzing insects. He had no reason to feel despondent, yet he could not deny the unfamiliar ache of loneliness that filled his chest.
He reached for the letter on the end table beside him and reread it. It was from his mother. She had written to inform him that she and his father would be returning to Farwell late next week. He’d informed the staff this morning. The maids were already airing out rooms, and Cook had placed a large order at the local shop.
Having his parents here would surely help dispel the feeling of emptiness in the house. His mother would begin inviting local friends over for afternoon tea and organizing dinner parties right away. She loved the social whirl almost as much as Benedict disliked it. His penchant for escaping London for the country was well documented. His parents had come to expect it. But perhaps this time, he had been alone too long.
