Page 39 of The Earl and His Lady

Mrs. Carter nodded. “He can’t seem to stop talkin’ about it, and I keep telling him he must reign in his pride or he’ll bust the buttons off his coat when he swells so much.” She lifted her chin and smiled. The other women chuckled and nodded, well-acquainted with the actions of proud new fathers.

“I wish you every happiness, Mrs. Carter, and if you will permit me, I would be honored to send you a basket when your time comes, full of things for your little one. And you too, Mrs. Abbott. Babies ought to be celebrated by the whole neighborhood.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Mrs. Carter said, her eyes wide and smile pleasant.

“That’s very kind of you, my lady,” Mrs. Abbott said with a little dip of a curtsy.

Mrs. Baton, perhaps not to be outdone, added her own curtsy and grateful words. “I hope we may soon be wishing you the same happiness, my lady.”

Virginia didn’t even blink, though inside she felt her heart constrict. “Thank you, Mrs. Baton.”

A crunch on the walk behind her made her turn. Lucas had come to collect her, his visit with the farmers at an end. They had gone back to work in the fields.

“Madams.” Lucas nodded when the women began dropping their curtsies. “I am afraid I must steal my wife away again.” They each murmured their acquiescence, then their farewells. Virginia waved and offered her compliments once more before turning to her husband.

Virginia did not miss the twinkle in his eye when he took her hand and brought it to his arm.

“Did your visit go well?” he asked just before handing her up into the phaeton.

“Very. You have two tenant families increasing, likely this fall.” She tucked her hands in her lap as he settled in the seat beside her. “And no complaints to be aware of, though Mrs. Baton has a second son she’s beginning to worry after. He needs a trade, it would seem.” And Virginia would much rather discuss an apprenticeship than the coming babies.

“Ah, Mr. Baton mentioned similar. It seems the boy hasn’t shown any interest in the local tradesmen. I said I would make inquiries. I think I’ve seen the lad before. He tends to hover around the horses.”

She tipped her head to the side and regarded him carefully. He spoke with absolute sincerity, his eyes ahead of him on the road. “You know your tenants’ children by sight?”

“And name, most of the time.” Lucas raised his eyebrows at her. “What sort of landlord would I be if I didn’t know them? Some will go on to inherit the tenant farms, after all. Others will serve in my household or become local tradesmen. They will be my neighbors as surely as the gentlemen whose estates border mine.”

“That is quite a progressive attitude, my lord,” she said, unable to hide her smile. “And one that I agree with. It does make sense. That was how we were—” She closed her mouth over the words pouring from her.

“You and Charles?” he asked, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Excellent. Then you won’t rebuke me for my familiarity with them.”

“Of course not,” she said, more quietly now. They rode in silence for a few moments, her mind going back over their time together. The night before, when he’d comforted her, allowed her to cry, without ever showing a sign of resentment for her dwelling on thoughts of Charles, was not what most new husbands would allow. Eventually, would he expect her to forget? She had not heard him speak much of his first wife. Had the years made it easier for him?

Ought she to invite him to speak of Lady Abigail Calvert?

“Lucas?” There was no time like the present to test her own bravery on the matter. He looked her way, eyebrows raised to invite her question. “What did Abigail think of your relationship with your tenants?” Virginia held her breath, hoping she had not crossed a boundary into what was none of her business.

His smile reappeared, much to her relief, as warm as the sun above them. His eyes changed, as though he looked further into the distance than the road stretched. “She was supportive. And kind. She visited with the tenants’ wives, she went about the parish doing good.” He sighed and shook his head. “Even when she ought to have stayed home and looked after herself.”

Virginia watched as Lucas’s expression changed from one of pleasant remembrance to something more bittersweet. He turned the horses off the lane, into a stand of trees near the road. Once they were under the shady branches, the phaeton stopped. Lucas held the reins in one hand and reached up with the other to remove his hat. He put the hat in his lap.

“Has anyone told you,” he asked, the words spoken slowly, “how Abigail died?”

Virginia, surprised at the turn in his mood and conversation, shook her head. Had she intruded too far upon him? She only meant to give him opportunity to speak of his wife. She hoped he didn’t think her morbidly curious.

“You needn’t speak of it if you do not wish to, Lucas.” She laid her hand on his arm to gentle her words. “Not if it causes you pain.”

He covered her hand with his and met her eyes, his more ash-gray than blue in the shade. “It doesn’t. Not anymore. I think I will always miss her, of course. She is part of me. But I want you to know, to see that it is possible, for time to heal the painful memories and give you leave to remember the good.”

Virginia nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. Would the day come when she wouldn’t ache for Charles? Everyone said it would. Wouldn’t she have to forget him to rid herself of pain? She had no wish to do that. Lucas’s perspective gave her a measure of comfort.

“Abigail was granddaughter to a duke. She was happiness and grace, she held herself with a regal air, and yet I saw her kneel in the grass to dry the tears of a farmer’s daughter.” His eyes took on that faraway quality again and his voice deepened as he spoke. “She was beautiful in body and soul.”

“I saw her portrait,” Virginia said, lowering her voice reverently. “She was lovely.”

He nodded and his hand on her fingers pressed her closer. “Very lovely. And I thought myself the luckiest man alive. Only one thing could’ve made me happier. A child.”

Virginia’s heart dropped all the way to her stomach. No one, when they spoke of the late countess, ever mentioned a child. She bit her cheeks and her eyes began to sting.