Page 38 of The Earl and His Lady

Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “Nothing. Something Charles used to play. That’s all.”

Lucas’s heart fell. “Oh. Did he compose music?”

Virginia shook her head. “Just the one piece, for his music instructor when he was younger. I’m afraid it didn’t earn him any praise, but it’s an invigorating piece." She seemed hesitant to say more, pausing to bite her bottom lip. “I don’t want to forget it. I should like the boys to remember it. The piece is humorous, really. Thinking on yesterday reminded me of it.”

He had told her she could bring up Charles without fear. He knew how important her late husband would always be to her. What about yesterday would make her wish to play his music?

“How so?”

Her smile returned. “He called it Frogs in the Mud.” A sparkle of humor appeared in her eye before she turned and went down the hall, now humming the melody.

Lucas watched her retreating form, telling himself he was most certainly not admiring her figure.

At least she no longer seemed upset about the previous day’s adventure or ensuing argument.

And Virginia would accompany him on his visit to the tenants. Lucas returned to his study with a lighter step, looking forward to spending time with the Countess of Annesbury.

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Virginia entered the yard of a tenant cottage, looking about with an approving eye. There was a row of cottages, each with its gated yard for keeping in chickens and children. They were well-thatched, the stone walls looked sturdy and the shutters thrown open to let in air were brightly painted.

The Earl of Annesbury had given his tenants lovely houses. The row of four cottages were only some of his tenants. They had already been by another nearer the village and seen the pension cottages as well. There was only one servant in those cottages, an elderly cook who had retired five years before along with her husband, a stable-master at another estate.

All of the properties she had seen were in good repair. Lucas stood, just across the lane, speaking with two of the farmers who had come in from their work upon seeing the phaeton come down the lane. It was left to her, as it should be, to speak with the wives.

Virginia had always enjoyed her responsibilities as lady of an estate but coming to know the tenants hadn’t always been easy.

On Charles’s land, she hadn’t at first seen the need for her to acquaint herself with farmers’ wives. She knew better now. These women carried loads just as important and heavy as her own. She hadn’t really understood them until after Phillip was born.

Three farmers’ wives had come out to see what the fuss was about, one at her window, and it was here that Virginia stood next to the flower box, conversing with all of them.

“Mrs. Carter, what is that most delicious smell?” Virginia asked, breathing in deeply. “Is that rhubarb pie?”

Mrs. Carter, who could not have been older than twenty, nodded shyly at her window.

“Molly makes the best pie,” one of the other women, a Mrs. Baton, said warmly. “Her mum taught her, didn’t she, love?” Mrs. Baton was closer in age to forty, with a toddling child hanging onto her skirts. “And her mum always wins the contests with her rhubarb pastries.”

Mrs. Carter’s cheeks went pink and she nodded again.

The third woman, Mrs. Abbott, was closer to Virginia’s age. Two little boys had come from her cottage when she did, but they were standing at the phaeton, inspecting its shining wheels with wonder.

“We’ve seen you and your boys often in church, my lady,” Mrs. Abbott said, her warm voice drawing Virginia’s attention. “My boys are close in age to your own. Though I’ve a few above and beneath them, too. I thought it lovely when I heard of your marriage to the earl.”

“That is very kind of you to say, thank you.” Virginia gestured to her sons. “How old are they? And how many more children do you have?”

“A girl above them who just turned nine, and another in the churchyard. Those two are seven and five, and I’ve got a three-year-old daughter visitin’ my mum in the village, and another on the way.” She put a hand to her still-flat abdomen, her pride apparent in her wide smile. “Mrs. Carter is expectin’ too.”

Virginia’s eyes went to the shy young woman, whose whole face had turned red. She dropped her eyes.

“How wonderful, Mrs. Carter. Is this your first?”

Mrs. Carter nodded. “We’ve been married three years,” she said, nearly whisper-soft. “So, we’d sort of stopped expecting it to happen.”

“What a marvelous blessing.”

“It’s why she’s hiding behind her flower box,” Mrs. Baton said knowingly. “She’s starting to show.”

“I remember those days,” Virginia said, hoping to alleviate the young woman’s embarrassment. “It’s such a wonderful time. The sickness starts to subside and there is evidence of the coming joy. I was dreadfully shy of anyone seeing me, at least at first. But my husband was so proud, he wanted to take me about town every chance he could. Is Mr. Carter beside himself with joy?”