I found myself cheered we might find common ground after all.
Father was quick to add, “My daughter brought a collection of herbs and tinctures. Hopefully, you will find your strength bolstered again, my lord. I have found the remedies in the valley, grown by several of the local women, to be most remarkable in their healing properties, and far less invasive.”
On that cue, I reached into my reticule and pulled out the vials, then rose to take them to him.
“You will forgive me that I cannot stand,” Lord Hawthorn said gruffly while eyeing me with some curiosity. “It appears I’ve overextended the use of my leg from visiting each tenant.”
“Such formality. There is no need,” I replied, but I was pleased he had continued to make the effort to meet each of the men and women renting his land. His mouth lifted ever so lightly again and, miracle upon miracles, a dimple carved into one cheek. He had the ability to truly smile after all.
The first vial contained a tincture of sage, fennel, and basil, mingled with plenty of garlic to ward off ill humors. When Ihanded it to him, my fingers grazed his, sending a surprising jolt rippling through me. His eyes widened as if he felt it too, but he took the vial without a word and uncorked it, his nose wrinkling.
“Miss Littleton, am I to believe that I will remain completely unharmed after imbibing such a concoction?” A sparkle in his eyes countered the gruff words. This close to him, I noticed a series of scars on his fingers and knuckles, with faint white lines tracing a path up his wrist.
“You’ve been a hardened soldier, sir. I believe you will be up to the challenge. You’ll find this tin less odious.” I handed him the second tin, a balm of peppermint and rosemary to rub on his leg. Instead of risking touching him again, I set it on the small marble-top table beside the sofa, ever aware of how his gaze followed me.
“And perhaps a forced rest will do you good,” I added before returning to my chair. “Especially considering all the projects you have planned, including the new road running past the orchards.”
“A capital effort. How goes the building, Lord Hawthorn?” My father interjected with a forced pleasantness as he shifted in his seat.
“Slow but certain since we’ve only just begun,” the viscount answered as he set the balm next to the other vial. I wondered if he would even make use of the gifts.
“I do hope you’ll skirt Mr. Perry’s land,” I added after a moment’s hesitation. “He is quite invested in the mosaics at this point. To halt the dig now, especially with so much at stake, would prove disastrous for his finances.”
Any hint of his former dry humor fled when the viscount swung his attention back to me. “Miss Littleton, was this the purpose of your visit? To charm me with pleasantries and put a stop to my efforts with a service road for my orchards? To encroach on my property?”
“Well, no... not entirely, as long as we can continue our dig,” I faltered, heat climbing my cheeks at his accusation. Perhaps I seemed a tad presumptuous. “Mr. Perry’s concerns have weighedon me. It’s a matter of his livelihood, after all. He needs income or he shall be forced to abandon his family farm.”
Lord Hawthorn appeared duly chastened. “My apologies. You’ve come on an errand of mercy, and I have forgotten my manners with such talk.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I said briskly, although I clasped my hands tightly before I betrayed my discomfort.
Father held up a hand. “No apologies necessary. You are not yourself, and I daresay pain or illness will test any man’s patience.”
Lord Hawthorn’s wry smile returned. “I am grateful for your visit,” he said. “To be honest, I’ve found myself ill-prepared for such involvement in my affairs.”
I arched a quizzical eyebrow. “What surprises you, Lord Hawthorn? That the people of Bramnor care for one another? That they take a vested interest in each other’s lives? We are not London, sir. You cannot wander the streets in anonymity here. True, village living may prove irksome. The butcher knows exactly what the baker is up to. We are simple folk and wish to benefit equally. All we want is a decent living and a solid roof over our heads.”
“But you aspire to so much more,” he challenged, folding his arms across his chest as if bracing himself for a pretty speech.
“I know we disagree about the dig, and I apologize if I was too forthright. But I believe we both want the same thing—a prosperous future for this valley. I’ve heard glowing reports from your tenants—how you allow delayed payment of rent for those struggling. Already, they speak of the fine new lord who will improve their lot in life. I want the same. I want the men and women in this valley to thrive. Surely an investment in the dig will prove beneficial to all involved.”
I couldn’t bring up my need to hunt for Daniel. Not with Father present. I couldn’t discuss the fifty pounds offered by the Society of Antiquaries. But my reserve melted as I thought of the others who would benefit from the mosaics.
The viscount grew still. I continued, “I realize accolades hold no appeal for you, but perhaps a visitor’s center for tourism and education might? Think of the people who would pay to see such a sight if you cared to invest.”
He blew out a measured breath. “I don’t care for the financial risk to myself involved, especially when indulging romantic fancies of lost civilizations. What if we dig and find nothing but rubble? I can hardly afford to put money into such speculation.” He tapped his fingers on the carved armrests. “As I said before, I have always thought the past was better left buried.”
“Yet you live in an abbey surely haunted with the memory of ghosts,” I teased lightly. “Have you encountered a lonely monk wandering the halls yet? Or perhaps the lady of the house with a starched ruff topping her Elizabethan dress?”
His nostrils flared, despite my teasing tone. “The dead ought to be left alone. Any dig I allowed on my land would ruin the property forever. Wouldn’t crops of apples and a cider business prove less risky if you want what is best for the families of Bramnor?”
“No. Crops fall prey to storm and blight,” I answered. “The history of the mosaics and their owner would attract visitors year after year. Does that not intrigue you?”
“Not in the slightest. I don’t want to know the secrets of history. I assure you, if the man was a landowner, and perhaps one who knew how fickle the Roman emperors could be, he lived a life driven by...” The viscount didn’t finish his statement. His eyes darkened.
Frustration simmered within me, but I couldn’t let it show. We needed those mosaics uncovered to the fullest extent, for the Perrys’ sake and ours. “We can’t know what his life was driven by if we do not excavate thoroughly.”
Lord Hawthorn’s lips thinned. “I’ve come to realize that you, Miss Littleton, are not above sharing your opinions. Let us seewhat the magistrate says regarding the property lines, and then we will be free to go our separate ways and do as we determine best.”
