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Ross hesitated before answering. "Several lengths for the supports. Thatch as well, and perhaps a few bricks for the crumbling chimney."

"Anything else?"

"Some nails."

James nodded. "You shall have them by the end of the week. I will send a man to inspect the chimney while he is there. If it needs rebuilding, it will be done."

Ross looked genuinely stunned. "Your Grace, I cannot afford …"

"I did not ask whether you could afford it." James's voice was firm enough to end the discussion. "You work my land. You pay your rent when you can. You keep the fields productive. The least I can do is make certain your family does not wake beneath a collapsed roof."

Ross swallowed and bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Grace."

James's expression softened slightly. "Do not thank me. Tell me if the repairs are not finished properly."

"I will."

"And if you have difficulty with the winter planting, you come to the steward before you fall behind."

"Yes, Your Grace."

James mounted again, but before he rode away, he glanced back at the cottage. "Ross?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Keep the fire burning properly. I do not want to hear that one of the children is ill because you were trying to save coal."

Ross smiled faintly. "My wife says much the same."

"Your wife sounds sensible."

"She is, Your Grace."

"Then listen to her."

James rode on with the faintest trace of amusement upon his face. He had no desire to be admired for caring for his tenants. They were his responsibility, and responsibility was something he understood. His father had believed a duke's duty began and ended with collecting rents and preserving the estate. James had never agreed.

By midday, he reached another portion of the estate where several smaller farms were scattered across the hills. His steward had mentioned one family struggling after a poor season, and James had decided to see the situation himself rather than rely upon figures written in a ledger. When he approached the cottage, he heard children before he reached the door.

A woman opened it with a startled expression. "Your Grace."

James removed his gloves. "Mrs. Bell?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I was told your family had been having difficulties."

Her face tightened with embarrassment. "We are managing."

James looked past her and saw three children sitting near the hearth, another asleep upon a blanket, and a fifth baby being held by a young girl who could not have been more than ten. "You have a newborn."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"How old?"

"Three weeks."

James's gaze moved to the woman's exhausted face. "And how are you managing?"