Page 7 of Reforming Lord Neil

Mr. Duncan kept pace behind her, and she paused when he fetched his horse. The large beast had apparently quenched its thirst. She led the way through the barn door, tall enough for the horse but with barely the width needed for man and beast to pass through side by side. At the rear of the barn was a wide door which had been divided to allow the top to swing open without letting the cow back inside. Teresa unlatched and opened the bottom, then stood aside. Once the man and horse went through, the cow barely glancing up from her chewing to see the newcomers, Teresa swung the door shut.

The gentleman, for surely dressed as he was he had to come from at least that station in life, began undoing buckles to release the horse from saddle and bridle. He hummed as he went about the work, his voice pleasantly low though not deep enough to be considered a baritone.

Teresa had chores to do. Gawking at a stranger, as though starved of company, was unbecoming. Never mind that the last man she’d had contact with was a fishmonger who liked to argue with her over the price of his catch with more vigor than she did.

Turning around, Teresa went to her next chore. She had picked what vegetables were ready for the table, as well as several shallots. She went looking for her basket of the garlic and onion bulbs. With the intermittent rain, she would need to dry them beneath cover.

With her mind set to a task, Teresa managed not to think about the stranger for nearly a quarter of an hour. Until he found her outside the kitchen door, snapping the long green beans she had harvested for their stew.

He approached with his hat in hand and with all the confidence of a man born to privilege. He was studying the back of the house with a deep frown, as though it had somehow offended him.

“Are you ready for your refreshment now, Mr. Duncan?” she asked, drawing his attention to where she rested on one of the spindly-backed kitchen chairs. Teresa dropped the last halved bean into the small bowl near her feet before standing and wiping her hands on her apron.

He stopped several feet from her and gave her the same look he had given the house. “I do not wish to interrupt your work, Mrs. Clapham.”

Teresa laughed, despite herself. When was the last time anyone had spoken to her with such deference? “You are a guest, sir.” Despite her merriment, his frown deepened. He looked away, at the barn or over her small vegetable field.

“Not everyone would be so kind to a stranger.”

It was difficult to tell if he was speaking to her or to himself. Teresa decided to answer anyway. “It was not long ago that I was a stranger here. The kindness of others is all that kept us from giving up.” She had no thought to share more of her personal life with him, but that much was enough to explain their humble generosity.

The gentleman’s expression changed from one of confusion to something softer. Almost understanding. “Your circumstances were not always what they are now, I take it.” He had an interesting way of speaking. His words were not clipped, but spoken slowly, almost silkily.

Teresa folded her hands before her, unwilling to share more. “No. They were quite different for most of my life.”

He nodded, almost thoughtfully. “My circumstances have recently changed, too, Mrs. Clapham. Most drastically.”

What did one say to that? Here they were, complete strangers, admitting to reversals in fortune that most would deny or hide. Of course, her fortune was plain to see, given the dirt upon her hem and the apron she wore. But his must be new, and had likely come upon him suddenly, given his manner of dress.

How did a man’s lot change enough that he still wore expensive clothing while admitting to it?

Only one thing came immediately to mind. Gambling. Fortunes were won and lost at tables in England. Hadn’t her own disappeared due to cards in her husband’s hands? Though she did not know how long it took Henry to lose her fortune and everything not part of the entailment, given how well they had lived up until his death, she did not think it had happened gradually.

She shivered, despite the warmth of the August sun streaming through the clouds. Mr. Duncan raised his eyebrows at her.

“Excuse me. I will fetch you refreshment.” She curtsied, out of habit, and hurried into the kitchen.

Mother and Caroline were in the kitchen. Teresa closed the door behind her and cast a glance at Caroline, quietly doing sums on a slate. The girl’s face was wrinkled in concentration, her tongue sticking out at one corner.

“Where is Mr. Duncan?” Mother asked.

Caroline looked up, meeting Teresa’s gaze. Teresa forced a smile. “Oh, he is outside. Have we anything cool to offer him?”

Mother went to the table. “The dandelion tea has cooled. Here.” She poured some tea from the pitcher where they kept it after it cooled. Most preferred tea hot, but the herbal varieties still tasted delicious. Especially when they added fruit and honey to it. Several berries had been crushed and added that morning, while the tea was still hot, giving it a tartness akin to lemonade. But Caroline had stirred honey in, as well. The ladies found it most refreshing.

“Let us hope he does not mind our odd tastes.” Teresa poured some of the tea into a tin cup. Then she hesitated. “Caroline, will you take it out to him? I need to speak to your Grandmama.”

Caroline fairly leaped from the table, clearly happy to leave her mathematics behind. “Yes, Mama.” She took the cup in both hands and grinned. “I will tell him all about how it is made, then he will have to appreciate the taste.”

“Thank you, Cara.” Teresa placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead—an easy feat, given how little she had to bend to accomplish it. Caroline disappeared out the door.

Mother gave one last stir to the warming stew, tapped the spoon on its side, then turned to face Teresa. “What do you think of him?” Mother asked before Teresa could say a word.

“Why do you ask?” Teresa wiped her hands down the front of her apron, somewhat nervously. “You usually tell me I am too quick to trust people.”

“Yet you have never been wrong, that I recall, about people’s character. You have a unique gift.” Mother smiled gently, the praise offered with a smattering of pride.

Teresa shook her head and lowered herself to the bench beside the kitchen table. “We know that cannot be true, given what Henry did to us.”