“I think we should be well out of earshot of any of the farms by now.” He waited for her to volunteer something…anything… of what had passed between herself and Mrs. Townsend. Instead, she fidgeted with her skirts.
“How much did you hear?” he asked.
“Mr. Townsend’s voice certainly carries.” She hesitated. “Yours, however, does not. But I didn’t have to hear much to understand he was upset.”
“Yes, well…” Harbury cupped the back of his neck and winced. “The details are complicated.” A plausible enough explanation. “I must consult the records more closely, else risk a false conclusion. I intend to look over the ledgers going back a dozen years or more.”
She frowned. “Does the problem stem from your father’s time?”
“I am inclined to believe the problem is mostly due to market conditions, but his notes in the margins of Anderson’s reports could suggest a solution.”
“Why don’t you simply ask Mr. Anderson?”
“Oh,” he kept his voice light. “I intend to consult him, of course.”
She offered a slight smile. “I am sure you will find the root of the problem. And you’re not alone, either,” she added carefully. “Allies, remember?”
“Yes, allies.” But not the kind of ally he’d expect to take the brunt of battle. Or the kind who needed to knoweverydetail about the problem’s potential source. “Did Mrs. Townsend mention any specific problems? Did she complain to you?”
“On the contrary. She…” For a puzzling moment, Cassandra just stared. Then she turned her face away before continuing, “Mrs. Townsend has invited me to come back next week and help with the preparation of her fenugreek tincture.”
He frowned. “Have you any interest in the preparation of fenugreek?”
“Yes! I’mveryeager to learn.” She spoke with heightened enthusiasm. Though he’d asked for no explanation, she added, “My mother was known for her salves, but she prepared them covertly, because my father disapproved of witch-like ways.”
“We’ve a still room at the hall,” he said, somewhat absently. “I’m sure Cook would—”
“As I told you,” she interrupted, “even Cook prefers Mrs. Townsend’s tincture.”
“Very well.” He blinked. “Attend if you wish.”
She worried her lip. “Some of the wives of your other large tenants will be attending as well.”
Other tenants?That couldn’t be good. If discontent had taken root, a gathering was the last thing he needed. Gatherings were perfect for inflaming tensions.
He rested his gaze on the horizon.
Then again, if the group contained only ladies, what harm could be done?
“Will the husbands be meeting as well?”
“No. I made—” she stopped herself again. “What Imeantto say wasMrs. Townsendassured me the group would consist strictly of wives.”
“And do you think they would be comfortable with you in their presence? Youarea duchess.”
“I’m also the daughter of a country squire. I’m far more accustomed to farmers’ wives than you’ll ever be.” She looked down at her hands and scowled. “And you needn’t repeatedly remind me of my station. As if I needed to be reminded. As if I were likely to forget!”
Perfect.
Now, along with Townsend’s, he’d set his wife’s back up, too.
“Cassandra…” He dipped his head, attempting to catch her gaze. When he had no success, he placed his thumb beneath her chin and lifted her face.
“What do you want?”
“I just upset you. I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
This time, the apology had slipped with surprising ease from his mouth. His eyes widened of their own accord, a mirrored expression of her own.
