The Regency Season Collection: Part Two. Кэрол Мортимер
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pardon, my lord. I forgot our unequal stations and trespassed on your privacy,’ she said as if he’d intended a subtle rebuke by reminding her he was a marquis and she was only here because he hadn’t been for decades.
‘I think I preferred you in a rage,’ he said, her unexpected humility shocking the truth out of him.
‘I don’t suppose you’ll have to wait long for that. I’ve never been very good at minding my tongue,’ she admitted with an almost-smile even as her sharp eyes picked out the deep marks of a heavily laden cart on one of the cross-rides, and she veered off to examine them more closely.
‘I don’t think Miss Trethayne is concerned that your phantom woodsmen have been shirking their duties, do you?’ Peters muttered as if Tom might not have noticed.
‘No,’ Tom agreed, frowning as an image of similar ones leading to the cove at Dayspring reminded him this could be a dangerous coast for more reasons than unexpected currents and powerful spring tides.
He wished he’d listened harder when the subject of evading hefty government duties on so many things arose. This was his place, his heritage, and it was time he took some responsibility for it. He wondered about quizzing Polly Trethayne about the so-called free-traders, but something about her closed expression told him she would evade his questions. He decided Partridge would be his best source of information. Even if the old rogue wasn’t involved with the gangs who ran this stretch of coast, he wouldn’t be able to help himself finding out as much as he could about them.
* * *
The woodsmen were working on a tangled mess of dead trees and brambles he supposed he should be ashamed of. Most had strong backs and put the arms they had left to good use. Did Miss Trethayne really think he’d dismiss them for having served their country, then been discarded when the enemy fought back? From the sharp and defensively hunched shoulders that came his way once they realised who he was, she wasn’t alone in that view of him. Tom silently cursed his careless reputation and picked out the leader of the now-quiet foresters.
‘Good day,’ he said in a voice he knew would carry round the clearing.
‘Good day, milord,’ replied the giant who had been hefting a huge axe until he laid it down so carefully Tom knew he’d been tempted to swing it in his direction.
‘Aye,’ he said with a grin that acknowledged what a tempting target he made for an angry man, ‘it certainly seems to be.’
‘It’s spring and the sun’s shining.’
‘It is now,’ Tom said with a nod to the carefully cleared brambles and other brush waiting for the bonfire nearby. ‘You have let light in on years of neglect, so I must thank you for doing a fine job here.’
‘Must you, milord? That ain’t the way I heard it.’
‘I understand you doubt my intentions to the Dayspring estate, but I’m not used to having my words questioned when they’re hardly out of my mouth,’ Tom said evenly, holding the giant’s remaining eye steadily and feeling as if the man would like to challenge him, but didn’t quite dare.
He raised his voice so the other men could hear him clearly in the now-silent clearing. ‘You have obviously worked hard and, if you continue to do so, I won’t import my own woodsmen when they had far rather stay at home and do the job they know. Consider yourselves employed, gentlemen, and let me know honestly how many weeks’ pay you have done without. I am home and things will be different at Dayspring from now on.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ the leader said bravely, and Tom nodded at the reference to his boyhood determination to let the castle and estate go to rack and ruin.
‘I’m man enough now to realise a pile of stones and its lands have no part in the cruelties of men. I shall take a proper interest in the Dayspring estates from now on, even when I have to be elsewhere.’
‘Until yon castle falls into the sea?’ the man said with a gesture in the direction of the distant towers visible over the top of the tallest trees in the woods that protected Spring Magna from the harshest of winds from the sea.
‘Did you never say hasty things in your youth?’ Tom replied. ‘I’m not sure what I’ll do about the castle yet, but I want the estate put in order and kept that way.’
‘About time,’ his disrespectful head forester informed him sternly, but luckily Tom preferred plain speaking to toadying.
‘Aye, the Banburghs learn slowly, but do it well in the end,’ he admitted and thought he heard the odd murmur of approval. The man in front of him and Miss Trethayne seemed unconvinced, but Tom resisted an urge to demand what else they needed to hear, because he probably didn’t want to know.
‘Are you going to bring in a bailiff and outsiders to work the estate, my lord?’ this doubter asked.
‘I won’t bring in my own woodsmen if that’s what you mean. Why would I uproot men who want to stay at home and bring them here when they’re not needed?’
‘Because they’ve got all their arms and legs and everything else we left behind after we took the King’s shilling.’
‘I see work well done and, as long as you’re content, I’m happy to have you carry on. Some of you might prefer work more suited to your skills and experience, but that’s for a time when I’ve leisure to examine the fine details of how this estate should work in future.’
‘With some fancy new man you’ll bring in to run the Castle estate, my lord?’
‘Perhaps, but for now if you have a problem you will have to come to me.’
‘Where would I do that, then, milord?’ the man asked warily.
‘I’ll be at the castle for a while yet and intend to find a suitable manager before I leave. An estate this size can’t run well without someone at the helm.’
‘We have a captain,’ he said with a nod at Miss Trethayne that made her blush as no flowery compliment from a Bond Street Beau could.
‘I said a suitable manager,’ Tom said clumsily. She would hear his words as lack of confidence in her rather than a statement that it was too dangerous for her to ride about alone. ‘I’m very grateful to Miss Trethayne, but it’s not a burden I can leave on her shoulders for ever. You can come to me if a new man wants to make changes you don’t agree with and I’ll always give you a fair hearing.’
‘Sounds like paradise,’ one of the men joked sceptically, but sly smiles and the odd laugh greeted his sally all the same.
Tom thought his battle largely won, but the leader wasn’t convinced. Apart from the eye-patch over his damaged eye, it wasn’t until he moved that the halt in his gait made it a wonder he’d managed to keep both legs. Tom decided he wouldn’t want to be a naval surgeon who tried to take this man’s leg off if he wanted to keep it as the big sailor-cum-woodsman sneaked a glance at Miss Trethayne, and what a fool he was not to have seen it straight away. Of course, the man was in love with her.
Now he was home the big woodsman could either take up the role of head forester or chance his luck with the smugglers, while as for Miss Trethayne...
Yes, and what would Miss Trethayne do with herself if she left Dayspring? Even if she didn’t have her brothers to care for, Tom couldn’t see her as a lady’s companion or governess. He supposed she might catch a widower or a cit if he contrived a Season for her in one of the minor watering places, where her looks and goddess-like presence would eclipse her years, height and lack of fortune. Or he could shame Lord Trethayne into meeting his obligations. He doubted Miss Trethayne would take a penny-piece from the selfish old dog now, though, and he hated the idea of her having to lower her pride if she decided it was too expensive a luxury for a woman with three little brothers to provide for.
So what the devil was he going to do? He could marry her, but picturing her towering over every other female in a set of court feathers when she was presented at a Court