Page 16 of Reforming Lord Neil

The work might even be good for him.

* * *

Teresa studied the formerly loose board she had noticed in Abigail’s pen. Despite giving it a shake, the board remained firmly in place. Upon inspecting the place where the board joined the post, she found the nails tightly driven in, though one was somewhat crooked.

After putting away the unnecessary hammer, she went in search of her daughter. Caroline had not completed her schooling for the day. Teresa’s mother said it would do no harm for Caroline to enjoy a summer afternoon beneath trees or in the fields, but Teresa would rather her daughter not shirk her duties.

Knowing that Caroline had snuck off to play with Jill Warner, the daughter of a shepherd with more sheep than sense, also made her uneasy. Little Jill might be an acceptable playmate, but she possessed a gaggle of older brothers who were known to brawl with each other and just about anyone they crossed paths with. Not precisely the sort of company the daughter of a gentleman should keep.

Even if they were living a poor life on a farm, Caroline’s fortunes might one day change, and she needed to be prepared for it.

She walked the acre of the vegetable field to get to the cherry trees. They needed to harvest that fruit quickly. The local farmers had told her she might make enough on one cherry harvest to cover expenses for her family for many months. But timing was difficult and hauling the cherries to the correct market even more so. She would need to hire someone else to take baskets of her cherries with them—someone with a horse and cart—and that would take some of her income.

At least their garden sustained them with food. But there was little to trade or sell for the other things they needed, such as clothing and medicine.

Why had her great-aunt left Teresa a farm too small to generate an income? How had the old woman lived in the cottage for the last two decades all on her own?

Caroline was not in the gardens or the cherry trees. Walking along the brambles and fence lining the road, Teresa occasionally paused to call her daughter’s name. Though she grew increasingly certain Caroline had left the property entirely.

Pausing at the break in the brambles, where she had stood only a few days before to see Mr. Duncan come up the road, Teresa put both elbows on the fence and lifted her hands to cover her face. She took in several deep breaths, more to clear her mind than anything. Though her daughter’s disappearances were frustrating at times, she only wished the child had a better understanding of responsibility. Of safety.

Teresa kept her chin in one hand as she gazed down the road. Mr. Duncan had likely made it to his destination by then. Despite his ill-fortune, whatever may have caused it, as a man he had the ability to work through it in any number of ways. Especially given his easy charm.

“When was the last time a man bowed to me?” she murmured aloud. Not since she had come to the farm, escaping her brother-in-law’s poisonous critiques and indifferent condolences. He had made certain Teresa knew he found her, Teresa’s mother, and his own niece burdensome. When news of the inherited cottage had come, Teresa had known he would be relieved that she would take her family and leave him to the house that had once been hers.

It kept Caroline away from Mr. Clapham’s cruel words about her father, too.

Despite the hardship of living by themselves, off a small patch of land in an old cottage, it was better than living beneath the gloom of Frederick Clapham’s frowns.

Movement from down the road caught her attention. Teresa turned her head to see who might be coming up the lane.

It was a man on a horse. A familiar horse. And the man—it was Mr. Duncan. His clothing had changed, but his hat remained the same, as did his comfortable posture. Why had he returned? And dressed like a common laborer?

Teresa shaded her eyes and stared harder, but the vision before her did not change. He saw her looking, and the man actually smiled, as though amused. Then he dismounted and walked the final steps to the fence.

“Mrs. Clapham. I trust you are well?”

“Yes.” She wished she had put on her bonnet before venturing out of doors. Her dark hair would be a horrid mess after all the work she’d completed. “And you, sir? I confess, I did not think to see you again. I hope nothing is amiss.”

“Not at all, though your concern is most kind.” Though dressed now in a drab coat, wearing a blue kerchief about his throat instead of a wrinkled cravat, and gray trousers rather than the fawn-colored breeches, he spoke as silkily as ever. He even wore boots, she noted.

He caught her stare, and a slow smile appeared upon his handsome face. He held his arms out, inviting further inspection. “Do you like it? I confess, despite the lack of fashion, I am most comfortable.”

“I cannot say I understand the change.” Teresa folded her arms. “Nor can I say it suits you, sir.”

He touched the scruff upon his chin. “It will take time to grow accustomed to it, but I have time aplenty. We could exchange remarks all day and never come to the point, but I think it best we are direct with one another. Mrs. Clapham, I sense that you are a practical woman, and I have returned to your home to offer up a proposal.”

Teresa’s heart clenched. Caution was warranted any time a man used those words. “What sort of proposal?” Hopefully, she sounded indifferent rather than alarmed.

Mr. Duncan’s lips curved upward, and he stepped closer to the rail. “You may have gathered that my situation is somewhat unique. I am a man used to the finer things in life, currently reduced to a man without a roof overhead. As I have gathered, you have experience with abrupt reversals in fortune, too.”

With a swallow, she nodded once. “That is true. But I fail to see what your misfortunes and mine have in common.”

“They have put us both in need of something the other can provide.” He swept off his hat and made a show of looking over her land. “You are two women and a child, alone, on a farm that requires more work than you can do on your own. I have heard that you hire out work on occasion, but that cannot be a sustainable way to live. Whatever funds you have, they will not last forever.”

Had she misjudged this man, too? Whatever he wished to propose, Teresa prepared herself to give him a thorough set-down. Laying out everything she already knew about her circumstances did not endear him to her in the slightest. He had been so mannerly before, so charming, and kind to Caroline.

“And just what is it, Mr. Duncan, that you think you can provide, as you said before?” She thrust her chin up, her entire body tense and ready for the verbal blow of an inappropriate suggestion.