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“My husband, Fred, was the first to become ill,” she said. “A few men on his ship contracted smallpox after a stop in Calais, and he experienced the first symptoms of the disease within a day of arriving back in Portsmouth. I immediately sent Meg to stay with a friend.”

“You protected your daughter but not yourself.”

“Fred needed me.” Her attention remained on Meg. Giles was now leading the awestruck girl to the other side of the stall, where twin calves born almost three weeks before were standing.

“Your husband is very fortunate to have so caring a wife.”

Caroline held very still, and even though he could not see her face, he sensed her withdrawal. He lowered his hand from her elbow, waiting.

“Fred died the day I succumbed to the fever,” she said.

A weight settled in Benedict’s chest. He had yet to love a woman enough to make her his wife, but he had grown up in a home with parents who sincerely cared for one another, and he’d seen a similar depth of emotion in the relationship his brother, Henry, shared with his wife. To lose a love like that . . . Benedict could barely fathom the pain Caroline had experienced.

“I am truly sorry,” he said. “Is that why you returned to Leyfield?”

She nodded. “I had a neighbor in Portsmouth who survived smallpox a couple of years ago. She knew Fred had been ill and brought some bread to the house.” Caroline’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued. “I was so feverish, I was scarcely coherent, but she understood me well enough to use the money I had in the house to see to Fred’s burial. She watched over me until my high temperature broke. It took a few more weeks until I was well enough to travel, but without Fred’s income from the navy, Meg and I could not stay.”

“I see.” It was a pitiful response, and yet Benedict hardly knew what else to say.

“Mama!” Meg’s voice broke through his troubled thoughts. “Mr. Giles says that if you will allow it, I may help feed the baby cows.”

The tension in Caroline’s shoulders lessened a fraction. “That is very kind of him. Will you do exactly as he tells you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Very well, then.”

Meg performed what Benedict was coming to recognize as three of her signature hops of excitement.

“Did you hear, Mr. Giles?” Meg asked. “Mama said yes.”

“I did, indeed,” Giles said. “So, we’d best see t’ it right away.”

Benedict was unable to see Caroline’s face, but he received the distinct impression that she was smiling. There was little doubt in his mind: no matter the trials Caroline had endured or the ones that lay ahead, her vivacious young daughter was a godsend.

Chapter 5

Caroline scarcely knew what had come over her. One minute, she was attempting to regain her equilibrium after rising too quickly, and the next moment, she was sharing far too much personal information with Lord Benning. She stifled a groan. What had she been thinking? No matter his polite consideration, he could not possibly wish to know the details of events so wholly unconnected to him.

She watched him from behind the relative security of her veil. He was pouring water from a bucket into a shallow water trough in the last of the stalls. Meg had insisted upon visiting every single calf, and although it had been Giles who had taken her to see each one, Lord Benning had remained close by, alternating between standing near Caroline and actively helping with the animals. Caroline shook her head slightly. How many English noblemen willingly waded into a mucky cow stall to refresh an empty water trough because his head cowman was otherwise engaged with a four-year-old visitor?

Meg giggled, and Caroline redirected her gaze from Lord Benning to her daughter. The calf in the final stall was on its feet and was gently nuzzling Meg’s hand.

“I think this one likes me,” Meg said.

“I believe yer right,” Giles responded. “Ya don’t see ’er kissin’ me, do ya?”

Meg’s giggles increased. “Look, Mama, she’s kissing me.”

“So I see.” Nora would undoubtedly be less than pleased when Meg returned home with clothing covered in bits of straw and calf drool, but Caroline could not help but smile. She’d forgotten the simple joy children experienced when spending time with young animals. Her own childhood seemed very distant, but reliving that childlike wonder through Meg was an unforeseen delight. “Be sure to mind what Mr. Giles tells you,” she added.

“I will.”

Lord Benning exited the stall and set the empty bucket on the ground beside the gate. They’d exchanged only a few words since her unwarranted disclosure of Fred’s passing and her ill health. For the most part, their conversation since then had centered on the calves—their age, coloring, and hesitancy to approach Meg. It was well past time that Caroline express her appreciation.

“I must thank you, my lord. This has been a marvelous experience for Meg, and I can say with complete surety that she will be speaking of nothing else for at least a week.”

“Oh dear.” He appeared mildly concerned. “Perhaps if she shares her excitement about the calves with you, your father, and Nora equally, her eagerness will be diluted sufficiently that no one will wish me ill for having issued the invitation.”