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‘Winfell, my house in Yorkshire.’ He lifted the cup to his lips and drank deeply.
‘You must miss them.’
‘They have my mother. But, yes, I miss them. They have got used to me being home this past year and I have not yet become blasé about the novelty of watching small children grow.’
Charmed despite herself, Gaby felt a twinge of guilt. ‘You left them behind to perform this errand for your godmother.’
‘I thought it my duty.’ The severe lines that had softened when he spoke of his children were set again. ‘I did not—do not—like to think of an English gentlewom
an alone and unprotected in a foreign country.’
‘It is not foreign to me. This is my home,’ she pointed out. ‘No one thought to bring me to England when the war was on.’
‘I did not know you were without your parents then.’
But my aunt did. I was not an heiress until Thomas was killed, though. No benefit in taking all that trouble with me before then.
‘And if you had?’
‘I would have done my best to get you to Lisbon. You and your brother.’
‘We would not have gone. We would not have abandoned the quinta and our people. You had your duty. We had ours.’ He made a noise suspiciously like a grunt. ‘If an enemy invaded England, would you expect your mother to abandon Winfell, your staff and tenants, your inheritance?’
This time the grunt was nearer a smothered laugh. ‘I would expect her to have the Civil War cannon refurbished and to settle in for a siege. Woe betide any enemy who attacks what is hers.’
Gaby did not make the mistake of pushing the point. She finished her coffee, flicked the dregs into the river and watched as fish rose hopefully to investigate. ‘How do you intend spending the day?’
‘What are your plans?’
‘To walk the terraces. Now the harvest is finished, it all needs checking over.’
‘Don’t you have people to do that?’
‘Of course. And I have their reports, but I still see for myself. I must prioritise the work, think about the more long-term planning. Do you leave your estate in Yorkshire in the hands of your steward and never check on what he tells you? No, I thought not.’
‘Might I come with you?’
‘If you wish.’ She glanced at his boots. They certainly looked sturdy, but she felt the temptation to needle him. ‘Can you walk far in those?’
‘You think a cavalryman cannot march?’ Gray got to his feet in a sudden, fluid movement and held out his left hand to pull her to her feet.
His fingers were dry and warm as they fastened over hers and he lifted her easily towards him. The shoulder wound had healed cleanly, it seemed. ‘I have no idea. Can you?’ She led the way back to the house.
‘For miles if we have to. But do you not ride?’
‘No, not to inspect the terraces. It is such a bother mounting and dismounting endlessly.’ She opened the kitchen door. ‘Maria, food for his lordship as well, please.’
Her own capacious leather satchel was already waiting, bulging with water bottle, notebooks and packets of food. Maria bustled out of the pantry with another in her hands and offered it to Gray with a twinkling smile. His compliments on dinner had obviously reached her ears and even now, despite several years of peace, she still believed in feeding everyone as though there would be famine tomorrow.
Gaby looped the strap of her own satchel over her shoulder, shook her head at Gray’s attempt to take it from her and led the way out past the winery and on to the track. ‘I will check this side of the river today and the other bank tomorrow. I looked at the more distant areas the day before you arrived.’
She strode up the slope and turned on to the first terrace. Jorge, her manager, had noted nothing at this level, but she never took anything for granted. Gray paced along behind her as she shook posts, checked the wires, peered at the terrace walls, then followed her back and up to the next level.
A miracle, a man who does not have to talk about himself the entire time.
These support posts were looking worn. Gaby dug out her notebook, made an annotation, moved on.
Gray’s silent presence was oddly companionable and she could check the vines without having to think what she was doing, which left her free to brood about yesterday’s insane scheme. But was it insane?
