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“It is quite all right, Mrs. Granger,” the gentleman said. “Lord Benning is rather a mouthful when one is young. I struggled with it myself at Meg’s age.”

He knew her married name. How was that possible? “Forgive me, my lord, but Meg must learn to address you properly.”

“I understand,” he said, but she caught a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But if she slips occasionally, please know that no offense will be taken on my part. There are days when I believe the Mr. Bent designation suits me far better than does the Lord Benning one.”

Such as when he was dressed as a farmhand. Caroline cringed inwardly. He must think her such a fool for not knowing him in the yard.

“Ah, Lord Benning.” Her father joined them. “I am glad to see that you are becoming reacquainted with my daughter.”

“Your daughter!” Shock flickered across Lord Benning’s face. Not the shock of distaste that she’d become accustomed to since her smallpox scarring occurred but the shock that accompanied an unexpected revelation. “You are Caroline Moore?”

Caroline bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lord.” Somehow, he had known her married name but had not connected that name to the young girl he’d once known.

“I beg your pardon. I had not heard that you were returned to Leyfield.”

“Only recently, my lord. Meg and I moved into the vicarage with my father less than a week ago.”

“I see.”

Caroline considered that highly unlikely. He had yet to set eyes upon her scarred face, and he surely knew nothing of her reasons for returning home. Beyond her father and Nora, very few people were aware of the lonely life she’d led these past five years, of Fred’s untimely death, or of her own narrow escape from the same fate. Besides, there could be no doubt that Lord Benning had far more pressing concerns than the reasons behind the vicar’s daughter’s relocation.

“I confess, I am surprised that you are currently in residence at Farwell Hall, my lord,” she said. “Has the London Season ended already?”

He offered her the ghost of a smile. “I believe the London Season will be winding down within another fortnight or so, but I returned to Farwell several weeks ago. There is too much happening at the farm for me to be gone during the spring.”

“So I imagine,” Caroline’s father said. “What with all the planting that must be done. And I daresay you have calves arriving soon.”

“Indeed.” This time, Lord Benning’s smile was natural, and warmth filled his brown eyes. “The ninth one was born last night.” He paused as if an idea had just struck him. “Most are in the barn still, and if you think Meg would enjoy seeing them, she is very welcome to visit.”

Caroline blinked back her surprise. Most gentlemen considered having a child underfoot to be an inconvenience.

“What do you say to that, Meg?” Caroline’s father asked. “Would you like to see Lord Benning’s young calves?”

Meg looked at Caroline with wide eyes.

“Calves are baby cows, dear,” Caroline said.

“And I can see them?”

“If you would like to, Lord Benning has said that you might.”

Meg’s smile was instant. “Now?”

Humor flickered in Lord Benning’s eyes. “It might be advisable to change out of your Sunday-best frock before entering the barn. Would tomorrow morning meet with your approval?”

Meg’s expression fell but only momentarily. “Would it, Mama?”

“I believe so,” Caroline said.

“Yes, Mr.—” Caroline cleared her throat, and Meg caught herself. “Yes, if you please, Lord Bent.”

Caroline sighed. It was close. And Lord Bent was a vast improvement over Mr. Bent. When they returned to the vicarage, she would have Meg practice pronouncing Benning so she could say it correctly the next time they encountered the nobleman.

“Very good,” Lord Benning said. “I shall inform my cowman, Giles, to expect you.” He raised a questioning eyebrow at Caroline. “Would eleven o’clock be convenient?”

“Yes, my lord. And I thank you. Meg will undoubtedly speak of nothing else from now until the moment we arrive.”

He smiled. “Then I may have done you a great disservice.”