Page 7 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

He’d been sure the document he’d signed on that fateful day in April had been a will. God knew Lord Kersey had to have known his chances against Lord Remington were long at best. Why hadn’t the man provided for his wife and child as any gentleman with means would have done? But, apparently, from the gossip in the servants’ hall, Lady Kersey had been left absolutely nothing by her husband. Shaking his head, he knocked on the front door, the funerary hatchment still hanging there, dark and forbidding.

Chambers opened the door and Hugh strode in. “Can you tell me where Lady Kersey is?”

“I believe her ladyship is in the rose garden, Mr. Granger.”

Hugh nodded, then did a quick turn and headed back outside, striding across the gravel drive and onto the grass lawn. The garden was located to the rear and east of the house, a large area filled with roses of all description during the summer months, although now only a few blooms still clung to life there. Still, on such a mild day as this had been, the garden would likely prove an oasis for the countess.

Rounding the archway that served as entrance to the garden, Hugh glanced about, but the nearest seating area was empty. She might have ventured deeper into the vast landscape, toward the farthest end of the enclosure. The semicircular courtyard there, paved in white Italian marble, with a three-tiered fountain of the same stone, had been a favorite haunt of the previous earl. The tranquility of the place—the quiet splashing of the waters coupled with the occasional birdsong or gentle sighing breeze—had not been lost on Hugh when he had occasion to visit it in search of his master. Given her circumstances, Lady Kersey certainly had need of such a place.

He topped a slight rise that gave on to a set of steps leading down to the courtyard and spied the lady seated on a bench beside the fountain, exactly where he supposed she might be. But the tableau before him differed from what he’d expected. He stopped on the top step, gazing at the small figure in gray twirling a bright yellow leaf idly in her hand. Something about Lady Kersey had changed.

The neat, dark hair was piled up on her head, charming as always with the stray, unruly curl that had managed to escape its pins. A paisley shawl draped around her slim shoulders, the long black fringe almost brushing the ground, had slipped open in the front, revealing the pale gray of her gown.

Gray gown?

Hugh stopped halfway down the stairs. Lady Kersey had replaced the unrelieved black of full mourning with the dull, but still lighter, colors of half mourning. He’d become so accustomed to seeing her in dark clothing that this change had struck him at first as out of place. Nothing could be further from the truth. The silvery shimmer of the pale cloth gave the lady a vibrancy not present while she’d been garbed in black. A beautiful woman, to be sure.

She raised her head as if she’d heard his thought, and Hugh sucked in a breath at having been caught staring at her. What on earth had he been thinking? Continuing on down the stairs, he nodded to the countess, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, despite the odd beating of his heart.

“Good afternoon, my lady. Chambers said I could find you here.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Granger.” She laid the golden leaf in her hand carefully on the bench and smiled up at him, her amber-colored eyes wide and bright. “What brings you to find me today?”

Hugh’s words suddenly stuck in his throat. She looked so innocent sitting there, and rather peaceful. He hated like the devil to be the bearer of more bad tidings for her.

She cocked her head. “Mr. Granger?” Her petite brows dipped slightly. “Are you quite well?”

Shaking off his mental misgivings, Hugh nodded and found his tongue. “I am, thank you, my lady. But I have sad news to tell you. I had an urgent summons early this morning to go to the Tates’ house at the farthest boundary of our holdings. Mr. Tate apparently fell through the roof he was patching yesterday and broke his leg rather severely.”

Lady Kersey flinched, her face twisting in sympathy. “How ghastly. Has the man been tended to?”

“I sent immediately for Mr. Lambert, the surgeon in Wickford, to attend him. While I waited I walked around to inspect the property, which seemed well, except for the now gaping hole in the roof over the kitchen. I’ve sent several fellows from the home farm out to repair the damage, but Mr. Tate will likely be incapacitated for some months to come.” Hugh swallowed hard, the sight of the farmer’s broken bones poking through his flesh still fresh in his mind. “He may lose the leg, the surgeon said. Or worse.”

“Dear lord.” Lady Kersey gasped and her face paled. She stared at him, blinking back tears. “What can we do for him and his family, Mr. Granger?”

“You are very kind, my lady.” That the countess’s first thought had been for the family’s welfare and not for the possible economic burden to the estate itself made Hugh respect the woman even more. Of course women tended to think more on the personal side of things rather than the business. But then, that’s what he was there for. “They are fortunate that the accident occurred after the crops had been gathered in, for there’s nothing much left to do in the fields until spring. They have a small garden and some animals for their personal use, but Mrs. Tate and their older children take care of them. I told her that, once the roof is fixed, if she needed any other such work done about the place, to notify me and I’d make any necessary arrangements.”

“Very good, Mr. Granger.” The lady smiled warmly at him and Hugh’s heart thudded painfully. “I will prepare a basket with some things for the family if you can have it taken for me?” Her face darkened. “When will the doctor know about Mr. Tate’s fate?”

“When I left he simply said he would have to wait and see. He’d set the bone and dressed the wound and planned to return to the farm in a week to see how the break was healing. If all was well, and there was no infection, he’d be more optimistic about Mr. Tate’s outcome.”

“And if all was not well?”

“Then he’d have to amputate the leg and hope that saved the man’s life.”

Lady Kersey winced.

“And in that case, or if Mr. Tate were to die, we would need to make arrangements about the farm itself.”

“Arrangements?” She looked at him blankly.

“Yes, my lady. We would need to find a new tenant for it, if Mr. Tate can’t work the fields.”

“What?” The countess’s dismay was tinged with outrage. “We cannot turn the family out to starve.”

“We would have no choice, Lady Kersey. You must see that.” Hugh hated the way she was now looking at him, as though he’d proved himself the villain in some Drury Lane drama. “The farm has to be worked or the estate gets no value from it.”

“Could Mrs. Tate not work it? She and her children?”