Page 69 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Laughter erupted, and Uncle Thorpe’s anger flared again. With white nostrils, he shouted over the raucous noise. “Where is Charles?” This time the swarm continued their merrymaking. “I said, where is Charles?” he shouted again.

Mary had made her way into the library and must have picked up his voice over the noise, for she shouted in response, “He is already in the carriage with his things, brother.”

The throng parted so Uncle Thorpe and Mr. Cunningham could exit the house. Once the door shut behind them, cheers erupted again.

Mary held two bottles of port above her head and shouted, “A drink for everyone!”

Moving into the garden, an impromptu celebration began as Sophia’s tenants sang and danced in celebration of their own gentlewoman farmer.

Sophia’s eyes moved over the gathering, looking for one person only.

Philip.

From across the room, their eyes locked. Without breaking eye contact, they pushed toward each other until Sophia threw her arms around Philip’s neck and he picked her up and spun her around.

“Stop,” Sophia said, laughing. “You know I’ll be sick.”

He stopped and asked her, “Will you marry me?”

“Are you free tomorrow?” she asked.

Epilogue

Spring 1754

Pulling, rolling, and tying the fleece into bundle after bundle, Sophia worked beside the tenants, taking her favorite job as handler. Pausing to wipe her brow, she glanced around, fully content with all she saw and even more pleased when Philip came toward her.

He raised a basket. “I have a picnic. Care to join me?”

Sophia hesitated. She was absorbed in her work, and it felt good.

“Go on. We can do it,” said Shepherd Stanton.

Mrs. Wilton, who was working next to Sophia, nudged her and whispered, “You cannot say no when he’s packed food for you. Not every man would think of that.”

Sophia smiled. They were right.

Philip said, “Come, you need a rest. And you haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

He knew her. She was starving, and she’d learned that her tenants were more than capable. She wasn’t necessary to the task.

“Molly, can you take my place?”

Molly beamed, clearly happy to have been asked. “I’d be pleased to, ma’am.”

Sophia held out her hand, and Philip pulled her to her feet right into his free arm to kiss her. Sophia’s first instinct was to pull away, embarrassed by their public display, but once she started kissing him, she couldn’t stop.

“Ooh!” cried the watching tenants, a few of whom applauded.

Sophia turned and curtsied. “Please, excuse me. I have some business with my husband.” Sophia slipped her arm into Philip’s, and they strode away, relaxing with each step.

“I don’t know, Philip. I love what I do, and shearing days are my favorite. But it feels so good to walk away right now.”

“It’s because you are foolishly in love with me.”

“Not foolishly. Never foolish. Cleverly. Any clever girl would love you.” She looked up at him and was wholly convinced of the truth of her words.

“I won’t argue.”