Page 23 of Waiting for Love

Benjamin ground his teeth. He had walked into the stable the day before Jasper’s return to hear Henley shooting his mouth off. He called Vanessa “the countess-whore.” Thankfully, none of the other grooms laughed or he would have fired the lot of them. Fergus told Henley to shove it. Henley said something even ruder. Benjamin stepped into the fray and fired Henley on the spot. Then told George to promote Fergus. That last might have been overstepping.

Jasper awaited an answer and appeared peeved that it was slow in coming.

Carefully, Benjamin said, “Henley insulted the countess. I will not repeat what he said, so don’t ask.”

Jasper’s face changed. Worried. Then angry. “The devil! I should have anticipated something like this. Were any others involved?”

“Not that I could tell. The young man, Fergus, took issue. But I stepped in before it went further.”

“Henley left without incident?”

“I paid his back wages, but gave him no reference. George said he left for London in the morning.”

Jasper nodded. “Good.” Then: “Don’t say anything to anyone else. It will only upset them.”

Jasper should not have felt the need to say that. A steward’s job required discretion.

“And Benjamin?”

“Yes, my lord?”

Jasper gave him a more direct look. “If Olivia had needed protection, I would have seen to it.”

Jasper definitely should not have felt the need to say that.

“Of course, my lord.”

Thankfully, Jasper had a gift for making a point without dwelling on it. Aside from those two incidents, those caveats, they worked together very well. At least, they were learning how to work well together.

*

Whenever one task on the estate was completed, two more sprang up, which made it easy for Benjamin to justify avoiding Olivia. He was busy. He knew he owed her an apology. If he could apologize without explaining himself, he would, but she deserved both, and might not accept one without the other.

A delegation of villagers and tenants came to ask Iversley to allow them to cut firewood for the winter. Another tradition. The earl granted permission as a matter of course. But it was evidently Benjamin’s job to pick the coppice and mark which trees they might take. That had busied him for three days that he had intended to spend doing other things. Now he felt he’d fallen behind.

Finally, he found a spare afternoon to ride over to Jack Fowler’s, after crawling through three years of Wentworth’s receipt books and finding only one long-ago incidence of late payment.

Nothing appeared amiss in the vicinity of the cottage. However, when Jack opened the door and saw Benjamin standing there, his eyes darted away as though guilty of something. He chewed his lip, then mumbled, “Come in, Mr. Carroll.”

Benjamin glanced around the room looking for evidence of trouble, but lit instead upon Olivia, seated at the table with the Fowlers’ two little boys. They had a board and pegs between them, playing Fox and Geese. Mrs. Fowler was at the sink. When she turned around, he saw that she limped. That was new.

He swept the cap from his head. “Excuse me for interrupting.” Mrs. Fowler was regarding him with the same unease as her husband. Olivia’s expression was distant. Reserved.

“You’ll be wanting the rent, I’spect,” Jack said, gesturing for Benjamin to move with him over to the wall. He glanced quickly at his boys, then back at Benjamin with a pleading look.

“Well, no, I—” Benjamin halted. He hadn’t come to collect. That was Wentworth’s job. He’d come only to see what was the matter, and if he could assist. He certainly had no intention of shaming the man in front of his children. God. He had enough bitter memories of his own father being dunned. “I’m only paying calls.”

Olivia tapped the board, laughing, “Here now, look at that, Sam!” drawing the boys’ attention back to the game.

Grateful to her for distracting them, he gathered his scattered thoughts and took a stab at salvaging the situation. “I’d heard…I thought I’d heard that Mrs. Fowler was injured.” She was limping; that he could see.

Mrs. Fowler nodded. “I dropped a pot. Cracked my foot. But it’s getting better.”

Jack hurried over to her, then grabbed a lidded bowl from behind the sink. “I got half of it here,” he said, pouring out a handful of coins. He spoke very quietly. “The rest next week, Mr. Carroll. I’m good for my word.” He held out the money.

Benjamin’s neck grew hot. Equally soft-voiced, he said, “I didn’t come to harass you. Only to see if you and Mrs. Fowler needed anything.” He would have come sooner, if he had known. He pocketed the coin. He would offer to forgive the rest, but could not do so without consulting Jasper. He was going about this whole thing ass-backwards.

Mrs. Fowler smiled, relieved. “We’re all right, Mr. Carroll. Lady Olivia brought us apples and pillows. And the Widow Tabor has been helping.”