Page 57 of The Gentlewoman Author

Chapter Twenty-Three

Daniel waited with Mary in front of the house for the stable hand to deliver the horses that would take them to see his father’s tenants. A slight breeze threaded through Mary’s hair, ringlets kissing her cheeks. He envied those curls, though she stood rigid beside him, the conversation he overheard reverberating between them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind a jumble of Mary’s flattering words. He tried to still his fluttering heart. Fluttering heart? Where did the phrase come from? A Woman Who Loves. He smiled at his foolish adoption of the novel. Yet it was true. When she told of his kindness, his heart stilled and then swelled with each thud against his rib cage. He never deliberated over a compliment before, but he cherished each of her words, memorizing exact phrases. He hoped she was sincere.

While traveling together, entertaining her required little effort. He’d wanted to distract her from their dire quest. Learning how much it meant to her made him want to guess her every wish and present it to her before she knew her own desires. Louisa would appear within a few days, and he had very few ideas on how to convince Mary they were far better suited than he and Louisa. He made a point to spend more time with her—taking her with him when he went out, accompanying her on walks, and keeping her room filled with roses—but was not foolish enough to believe his presence was enough. Her independence, which he admired, demanded little of him. Until he overheard her talking to his mother, he believed her wholly indifferent. Or worse, that she thought of him as her little brother.

Was it possible she cared for him? Beside him, she tilted her face to the sky until the sun breached the shadow of her riding hat. Since receiving news of Louisa’s safety, Mary had become more tranquil but also retreated. The day before, he saw her only at mealtimes. When passing by her door, his tread slowed, and the temptation to find out what she did in her room all day overwhelmed. Of course, he resisted.

“I feel terrible about your landau. Were it not for my niece, you’d be driving it today.”

“Horses are faster. I rarely used the carriage. Tobias Savage is the only person I hold responsible for its demise.”

They slipped into a thick silence.

“Again, thank you for the flowers,” she said.

“Yes. Well, thank you for being so obliging.” He bit his cheek. What an idiotic thing to say. He was no good with words. For being so obliging, as if pretending to be his fiancée was the same as borrowing a book.

“Tell me about your tenants.” Mary smiled at him, sending blossoming pleasure through him. He felt his cheeks lift in answering grin, unable to respond in any other way. From their very first meeting, she had drawn such grins from him. Bath had disinterested him until she arrived.

“Truth be told, I know very little. Since I’ve been away, the steward manages everything. I met with him several weeks ago but have had little opportunity to see with my own eyes how things are going. You are familiar with farming and tenants, running an estate, I understand,” Daniel said, finally able to ask a coherent question. “Who manages your land in Ireland?”

“The steward runs everything.” She gave him a half-smile and looked away. “He does well.”

“But you resurrected the property.”

“It was in my best interest, my livelihood. That is not to diminish the pleasure I felt in fulfilling Lord Allen’s dream.”

Of course, she would mention that angelic man. His hopes of obtaining her regard tumbled. They stared with steadfast intensity into the landscape. It was all Daniel could do not to look at her. Unable or unwilling to share how he admired her, he could think of nothing to say.

“Are you sorry to have left the bank? Did you enjoy your work there?” she asked, squinting up at the sky.

“I was good at it and was fortunate to have a friend who trusted me to do the job. My work and investments in the bank made it possible for my family to remain in the castle.”

“But you did not like it.”

“I feel most at home at Almery.” He turned and gestured to the surrounding property. “Though we have more than enough land to farm, it has not been properly run. As I am certain you’ve noticed, the castle is in disrepair. I want it to continue passing through generations, but it requires constant renovation. My parents don’t care about the state of the house. ‘What is a leaky roof when love abounds?’ my mother would say.”

Mary laughed. “I can hear her voice when you say that. A romantic notion.”

Daniel’s heart quickened. Perhaps she understood. “Exactly. One cannot live off such sentiment. Love is good, but if it causes a person to neglect important things, it can be detrimental.”

Mary’s smile faded and a crease appeared between her brows. “Must one choose? Their actions are more due to their characters than to love.”

The horses arrived. Daniel took Mary’s hand and helped her onto a mounting box, considering her words. Perhaps she was right. He admired Mary, but his feelings would not prevent him from doing what was best for his castle.

During the short ride to the tenant cottages, Mary exclaimed over the beauty of the countryside. “There are so many trees. And so tall. In Cornwall, we have bushes, shrubs, and heather, but not so many lofty trees.”

Daniel pointed out various landmarks, the road to the village, and his favorite places to play when a child. Soon they arrived at a cluster of cottages. They appeared well-kept with everything in order. A young couple, married only a year earlier and expecting a child, told them, “I do worry about space with the young one coming so soon.” Daniel made a note to construct an additional room onto their cottage.

They stopped by the shepherd’s home and visited the bailey. There were few complaints and no problem that could not be easily mended. Before leaving for home, Daniel wanted to see Old Mother Spencer, the woman who’d given him treats when he was a boy. He’d not seen her since leaving home.

He knocked on the cottage door. There was shuffling inside before the top half of the Dutch door opened. Mrs. Spencer was as hunched and white as she had been years earlier.

“Daniel? Have you come home?” Her gnarled hand reached out and patted his cheek.

“I have, Mother Spencer.”

“Come in, then. And who is this? ’Tis about time you brought your lady love.” Daniel turned to Mary, her cheeks tinted pink, but she smiled and took the older woman’s hand in greeting. Mother Spencer pulled her in to kiss and pat her cheek.