Page 22 of Real Earls Break the Rules

He stopped beside an apple tree and rested a hand on the trunk.

“I used to climb these trees as a boy. My nursemaid would scream for me to get down. I loved tormenting her.”

Her lips curved in a smile. She could picture him as a precocious child standing on one of the tree limbs, then moving swiftly as he climbed farther and farther up. “You must have given your mother and nursemaid a head of gray hair.”

A shadow crossed his features. “Never my mother. My parents hated each other. The earl was always at his clubs and disliked the country. The countess preferred entertaining and avoided her children.”

Amelia’s smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. Our needs were seen to.”

Still, his childhood must have been desolate without love and affection. She could tell that he loved his sisters, Helen and Caroline, by the way he treated them. Had he always cared for them in an effort to make up for his parents’ failures?

They continued riding for several more minutes until they reached a grassy hill. “We’re here,” he said, drawing her attention to an area beyond the hill.

Amelia spotted the thatched roofs of the tenants’ cottages. As they came closer she saw children running and playing with a ball. A scruffy dog barked and joined the game. The children loped forward, shouting and waving in greeting.

“Lord Vale!”

Brandon reached down and ruffled the hair of a red-haired, freckle-faced lad. “Where’s your father, Daniel?”

“He’s inside, my lord.”

“Will you fetch him for me?”

The child nodded and flashed a gap-toothed smile, then ran toward one of the cottages and called out his father’s name.

Brandon helped Amelia dismount from her horse just as families came out of the dwellings to greet them. To her astonishment, Brandon knew all their names and recalled a personal detail about each man, woman, and child. The birth of a babe, the death of a distant relative, and the dates of upcoming weddings and baptisms, were all discussed between master and tenants.

Lord Vale must regularly patrol his property and it was clear that he took a keen interest in the people working the land. Looking into the eyes of these hardworking families, she saw their respect and admiration for their master.

“You know them all?” she asked.

“It took me a while after inheriting the title, but yes, I know them all.”

Several wives approached and bobbed curtsies. They chatted excitedly about the upcoming village fair.

“Everyone is invited to attend,” Brandon explained. “The tenants of both my estate as well as Huntingdon’s attend. It’s the one day a year everyone can be seen mingling together.”

A burly farmer with calloused hands, a bronzed complexion, and red hair approached. Amelia realized he was Daniel’s father. The farmer began discussing the fallow fields that Amelia and Brandon had passed, and he suggested rye and barley be planted on the land set aside for next spring.

Brandon agreed and recommended potatoes, carrots, and cabbage be planted as well. When the men started to converse about the livestock, Amelia wandered off to sit in the shade beneath a large tree and flipped open her sketchbook. Her older drawings of London poverty were grim. In comparison, the tenant families and their children appeared well fed and content. She began to sketch the cottages and the people. She paid particular attention to the children scurrying about and the women who’d gathered near one of the cottages and talked as they hung freshly laundered clothing on a line to dry.

After Brandon finished with his tenants, he joined her by the tree. “The sketch is remarkably good. You’ve captured the children playing, the men and women working, and even the dog.”

“It’s much more peaceful and pleasant than I’d thought.”

“How so?”

“Everyone has their place,” she explained. “It’s not the overcrowded city streets, and lacks the constant noise of brewers’ carts, hacks, and the cries of hawkers selling their wares, and the ever present stench of too many bodies packed in too close a space.”

“True, but don’t be fooled. These people toil hard each day.” He held out his hand, and she allowed him to help her to her feet. “Are you ready to go back?”

She nodded and they began to ride back to the manor. Amelia enjoyed the breeze, the warmth of the sun on her cheeks, and the fragrant scent of wildflowers.

“Let’s stop a moment,” he said.

She followed him into the forest where it was cooler and the sunlight was sparse under the canopy of trees. A stream bubbled welcomingly, and he led the horses to the water to drink.