Page 1

Chapter 1

Farwell Estate, Gloucestershire, England

May 1796

The cow bellowed, her abdomen contracting yet again.

“Steady, girl. You’re almost there.” Benedict placed a reassuring hand on the laboring beast’s neck. She shuddered, scarcely acknowledging the touch. “It’s taking too long, Giles. She’s spent.”

His cowman grunted his agreement. “I reckon it’s time we ’elped ’er out a bit, m’lord.”

Benedict’s concern ratcheted up a notch. He could not see Giles over the animal’s shoulders, but Benedict had been around the older man long enough to recognize the worry in his voice. “Do what you can.”

The straw on the floor rustled as Giles reached for the rope draped across the wooden barricade that separated this stall from the one containing two other cows and their new calves.

“I can see the forelegs.” The cowman repositioned himself behind the cow. Benedict waited, silently urging Giles to work quickly. Any moment now, there would be another contraction. The cow released a heavy breath, and Giles shifted. “The calf’s head’s down, m’lord. I’ve a rope round the forelegs. I’m ready when she is.”

The cow stirred; her breathing changed.

“Brace yourself,” Benedict warned.

A ripple moved along the cow’s abdomen.

Giles came into view, steadily pulling on the rope. “Come on, girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s the way.”

Moments later, a small calf lay on the straw at his feet. Immediately, the mother turned and lowered her head to smell her newborn. Benedict stepped out of the way. Giles was already on his knees, untying the rope. He looked up at Benedict, his craggy smile an odd blend of relief and reverence.

“There’s no denyin’, this one took ’is time gettin’ ’ere,” he said. “But it looks like ’e’s makin’ up fer it now.”

Benedict’s gaze returned to the newborn calf. Already, the young animal was fighting to stand on its spindly legs. His mother nuzzled him, attempting to lick him clean even as the calf staggered upright.

Giles gave a throaty chuckle. “’E’s a fighter, that one.”

Benedict nodded, gratitude filling his chest. A valiant mother, a fearless infant, and another miracle. No matter how many times he witnessed a birth in this barn, the wonder of it all never dimmed.

“You have my thanks, Giles. Without your assistance, we might have had a very different outcome.”

“I didn’t do much.” The cowman gathered up the rope. “Sometimes th’ poor mother just needs an ’elpin’ ’and at th’ end.”

Benedict had been in the barn with this particular cow since the early hours of the morning. Giles had arrived before him. This delivery had taken far longer than normal, and Benedict knew full well that his cowman’s actions had likely saved both the calf and the mother.

Benedict crossed to the bucket in the corner of the stall and dunked both arms into the cold water. A bar of lye soap sat on a small tin platter beside the bucket. He reached for it, briskly scrubbing his arms with the soap before rinsing them again and drying them off on the scrap of fabric hanging over the stall’s wooden partition.

Making room for Giles beside him, he waited as his cowman did the same. Benedict’s hands were not so reddened or calloused as the older man’s, but with his shirt sleeves rolled up and wearing his oldest waistcoat, breeches, and boots, Benedict hardly looked the part of a titled gentleman. And that suited him very well. There were sufficient opportunities for executing that weighty role at times that did not interfere with calving season.

Outside the barn, his dog, Shep, barked. Benedict frowned. There should be nothing out in the yard to cause the dog to issue a warning.

“Sounds like Shep’s not ’appy ’bout somethin’,” Giles said.

Benedict’s frown deepened. He hadn’t imagined Shep’s sharp tone, then. “I’d best see what he’s about.”

“Very good, m’lord. I’ll stay put long enough to see that the little fellow’s walkin’ and eatin’ as ’e should be, an’ then I’ll check on th’ other young ’uns.”

Benedict nodded. They were already up to five new calves this month, with three more due to arrive any day. “As soon as I’ve discovered what has Shep so unsettled, I’m off to the north pasture to check on the river levels. If any of the other expectant cows look to be following this one’s example before evening, you can find me there.”

Giles scratched his head. “If me old bones are anythin’ to go by, there’s a storm brewin’, so it wouldn’t surprise me if we ’ave another one or two start afore tomorra.”

Benedict knew better than to discount Giles’s aching bones’ ability to foretell the weather. They were right more often than not. And the cows did have an unfortunate tendency to give birth during a downpour.