CHAPTER 13
COLIN APPROACHED THEstables the next morning with a spring in his step. Today, they had planned to visit one of the farthest tenant farms and the ride there and back would take several hours. He smiled, hitching up the knapsack over his shoulder. He had asked the cook to pack a luncheon and planned to have a picnic with Abby on the way back.
The beat of anticipation thrummed through him and he realized he was very much looking forward to all that time alone with her. Foolish, he knew. It would only hurt him more to spend more time with her, get more attached, when she didn’t return his feelings.
But regardless of how he tried to reason it, he couldn’t help the way he felt. So he had settled to bask in her presence like a tree basked in the sunlight.
She was already there at the stables entrance. Of course she was. Abby was nothing if not punctual. She took all her tasks seriously, and he liked her all the more for that. No spoiled lady, his Abby.His Abby?When had he started to think of her as his? She wasn’t. He would do well to remember that. Unless... no.
She was lifting her arm in greeting, so he approached the stall, noting that both their horses were ready.
“Good morning. Are you ready for our trip?” He said as he drew next to her.
“Good morning, my lord. Hardly a trip. Just a few miles on horseback.” Her smile had the power to make his breath hitch.
“It is the most remote of the tenant farms. I have brought provisions,” he said, pointing to the knapsack he was securing inside the horse’s saddlebags. “In the case our little excursion extends past lunchtime, I thought we could have a picnic.”
She tilted her head with a considering expression. Something crossed her eyes, but it was too fleeting to interpret. “That would be lovely. I haven’t had a picnic in ages.”
“That is a great shame. Let’s remedy that immediately. Eating outdoors, especially in fine weather like this, is a great joy.”
Moments later, they were cantering out of the stables and down the road. After a few miles, they abandoned the road to go cross-country, laughing as they urged their horses over hedges and low fences, alternating between a canter and a sedate walk.
When they finally arrived at the farmstead, he noticed it was probably the most neglected of all, and shame slammed him hard.
The farmer’s wife came to the door as they approached and greeted him with more fear than hope. The greeting she directed to Abby was a lot warmer.
“How are you, my lady?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Polk. I am doing well. And how are you and your family doing?”
The woman shrugged uncomfortably, looking at Colin askance. “We are getting by, my lady.”
He had dismounted and came to Abby’s side to help her dismount. When she was on the ground, she approached the woman and introduced him.
“Lord Hartfield, allow me to introduce Mrs. Polk. Mr. Polk holds the tenancy of this farm. His family has been on this land for generations.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Polk?” Colin said, as amiable as he could, trying to put the woman at ease.
She bobbed a curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord. Would you come into my humble home for some tea and biscuits?”
“Thank you, I’d be honored.”
The home was kept meticulously clean and tidy, but the signs of wear and disrepair were visible despite Mrs. Polk's admirable housekeeping efforts. One girl labored in the corner that was used as a kitchen, chopping vegetables. At a nod from Mrs. Polk, she put a kettle on the fire to boil water for tea.
“This is Annie. My oldest daughter. The youngest went to fetch her pa and brothers when we saw your approach.”
“Thank you. Mrs. Polk. I hope your husband will join us soon. I know things have not been well in the estate of late, but I am trying to remedy that. The meetings with all my tenants are to go over the necessary repairs and improvements.” He said earnestly. These people were his responsibility. And they were suffering because of his neglect.
The woman nodded, her expression grave. “And ‘bout time, milord. Don’t know how long we could have kept going as things stand now. We are barely making ends meet. My eldest son has been talking about going to the city to find work. But my husband’s family has been on this land for generations.”
At that moment, Mr. Polk and two other strapping lads, who must be his sons, entered the little cottage.
“Milord,” the farmer said with a nod. Respectful, but without being overly deferential. “T’is glad I am to make your acquaintance at last.”
“So am I, Mr Polk.” Colin said, standing and offering his hand, which Mr. Polk took in a firm grip. “I appreciate you and your family’s loyalty to the estate and want to talk to you about setting things right.”
He saw cautious approval and hope in the rugged farmer’s eyes. It was little consolation for his conscience.
