Greydon put his hand up. “I take no offense. It is merely the truth.”
“As a general rule, we do not like to speak ill of the dead,” Lady Everton said.
Lord Everton flicked his wrist at the footmen to indicate that they were ready for the second course. The footmen stepped forward to retrieve their bowls and placed a tray in the center of the table.
Malcolm stood up to carve the meat and served the ladies first.
Lord Everton turned his attention back towards Greydon and asked, “Do you hunt?”
“I do,” Greydon replied.
“We shall have to invite you to our country estate during hunting season,” Lord Everton said. “Our lands are stocked with enough game that I can assure you that you won’t leave disappointed.”
“I would like that very much,” Greydon responded.
Lord Everton continued. “Like all landowners, we have issues with poachers, but we deal with them swiftly. I insist that they are transported.”
Lady Enid spoke up. “That seems rather harsh, Father.”
“They are stealing from me. What would you have me do?” Lord Everton demanded. “Invite them over for a tea party?”
“No, but some of them might just be trying to feed their families,” Enid replied.
“Then they should find a job and stay off my lands,” her father snapped.
“It isn’t always easy to find a job, especially right now,” Enid said in a calm voice. “With the war going on—”
Lord Everton cut her off. “Ladies do not speak of the war in a man’s presence. It is unsavory to do so.”
“Regardless, the war has taken a toll on the people that are barely scraping by and there isn’t enough food to go around,” Lady Enid said.
“How does that concern me?” Lord Everton demanded.
Lady Enid lifted her chin stubbornly and her words became determined. “You could be a little sympathetic to the people that are caught poaching on your lands.”
Lord Everton just stared at his daughter. “You know nothing of what you are speaking about. Poachers will ravage our lands and kill all the game, leaving us with barren woodlands. Is that what you want?”
“No, but—” Lady Enid started.
“Yet you think I should show the poachers compassion?” Lord Everton asked, speaking over her. “Poachers could ruin us. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not, but—”
Lord Everton scoffed. “This is precisely why women should never be landowners. They do not think logically.”
Lady Everton’s firm voice came from the head of the table. “You have made your point, George,” she said. Her tone brooked no argument.
Greydon had spent a considerable amount of time with other men and he had developed a keen ability to read them, and their intentions. He studied Lord Everton quietly for a moment, and he determined that he was a terribly unhappy man. He pushed people away for the sake of keeping up appearances, which wasn’t uncommon in their circles, and tried to assert his dominance.
He shifted his gaze to Lady Enid and saw that she was using her fork to push the meat around her plate. She may pretend that her father being mean to her didn’t bother her, but he suspected it did, more so than she would ever let on.
Meeting Lord Everton’s gaze, Greydon said, “I do believe Lady Enid has a valid point.”
Lord Everton’s brows raised high. “Which is?”
“The poor are suffering, more so because of the war, and we need to show more compassion to their plight,” Greydon said.
“The poor are suffering because they do not help themselves,” Lord Everton declared. “There is plenty of work to go around.”
