And he’d done so not by becoming more like his father, but by trusting his instinct, and the counsel of his wife and of his chosen advisors. But only time would prove his sincere interest in his tenants’ well-being. For now, he’d shown he could be effective without being rigid.
His father’s way was not the only way.
As he’d suspected, Cassandra’s love hadn’t made him weak. Her love had been an impetus, an inspiration. And if he could prove he could be the leader the estate needed, perhaps he could also prove he could be the husband Cassandra deserved.
But first, he had to get through this visit.
Lady Pennington greeted him awkwardly, before inviting him in for tea and leading him into a half-empty parlor.
“How is your father?” he asked, once they had been seated andserved.
“Calmer now.” She spoke with her head down, gazing into the dark liquid inside her cup. “He genuinely believes your father gave him a mission. Whenever he starts to fret about all he is leaving behind, I assure him his life’s work is in good hands.” She glanced up. “Am I telling the truth?”
“I’ve always cared deeply for the land and its people.”
“I know.” She hesitated. “Mrs. Grant, however, says you will never earn the tenants’ trust.”
“Mrs. Grant is prejudiced.”
She smiled a slight, knowing smile. “If you mean my father and I have her loyalty, then yes. She always behaved toward me in a motherly fashion.” She sighed. “Will you hire a new steward?”
“I already have. The estate’s largest tenant, Mr. Townsend, has a solicitor son who has managed several smaller properties for a London firm. At my request, he has taken the position. Having grown up here, he is familiar with the land. Furthermore, he is eager, knowledgeable, and competent. I told him he may move into Rose Cottage after Michaelmas.”
“How…efficient.” She cocked her head and blinked, as if she weren’t certain she believed he was capable of having executed all of the above in such a short time.
She didn’t have any faith in his abilities at all, did she? She never had.
No wonder his father had so easily convinced her of his betrayal.
“At least the place will not stand empty.” Her gaze moved around the room. “Has Mr. Townsend a family?”
“He’s got a wife, a strapping young lad, and a little girl who is but a babe in arms.”
“How nice to think of children enlivening the cottage once again.”
“Indeed.”
The conversation fell silent.
Not, he realized, because there were things they could not say, but because they’d already exhausted every topic of polite conversation they had in common. Further proof they shared a past, but not the present.
“Edward—”
“Harbury,” he corrected. “…Lady Pennington.”
“Just as well, I suppose.” She tilted her head. “You’ve changed.”
“I know,” he replied. Marriage had changed him, first. Then, love. He was, he hoped, becoming the man he’d always wanted to be.
“Harbury,” she started again, “before I go, I want you—and, more importantly, the duchess—to know I am sorry for how I acted the other day. I should not have gone out of my way to antagonize either of you.”
Grateful for her gesture, he inclined his head. “She will appreciate your apology.”
“And despite what I said, I don’t blame you for the way things ended. What you said in your letter was right. Our elopement would have brought shame on your family. I knew how much you longed for your father’s good opinion. I was mad to think you would have crossed him to marry me.”
He contemplated telling her the truth, that he hadn’t written the note his father had delivered on his behalf, that his father had deceived them both.
But what good would such revelations do, especially now that he had finally come to know his own heart? Gazing at Lady Pennington now, he felt as if he were looking at a stranger.
