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Chapter 13
The following morning, Lucas setout on horseback for Primrose Farm, accompanied by Isaac and Thomas and Finch. Lucas had borrowed one of his father’s horses so Hector could enjoy a full day of rest and grazing after so many days of travel.
The day was overcast, and Lucas suspected it might rain that afternoon. Hopefully they would be back at Alderwood long before that happened. He’d truly had his fill of rain and mud while in Spain. Rain and mud were rife with bad memories.
He located the ramshackle sign that pointed the way to Primrose Farm and led the others down the lane until they reached the farmhouse.
“Oh, dear me,” Finch said from atop his mount.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Thomas added. “You certainly aren’t marrying her for her inheritance, if that wasn’t obvious already.”
“Thomas, a little decorum, please,” Isaac cautioned before Lucas could say anything himself—which was just as well, for he wouldn’t have been as circumspect as Isaac had been.
Thomas smirked as he dismounted.
“Well, let’s see what we’re about here, then,” Isaac said after he and Finch dismounted as well.
“There’s a fellow not far from here, Allard, by name, who used to be the foreman,” Lucas said. “I’m going to go find him. I expect he can shed some light on the situation for us.”
“Excellent idea,” Finch said. “Folks living nearby likely built their livelihood around this farm and would have been affected by its failure. Knowing how many people remain who could possibly be lured back would be critical information to have.”
Lucas needed no more encouragement. He turned his mount and headed back to the main road and then followed the directions Allard have given them the day before, finding the cottage with no trouble at all.
“Mr. Jennings, it’s an honor, sir,” Mrs. Allard said once Lucas had explained who he was and why he was there. “Come in, come in.” She ushered him into the cottage like she was rounding up a sheep that had strayed from the flock. She was plump and pretty in a round-faced sort of way, with an equally round-faced but wiggly toddler balanced on her hip. She seemed the type who would keep the more reserved Allard on his toes.
“Allard told me all about it yesterday. Such great news! I can’t help saying how very thrilled everyone will be that something’s to be done to make things as they was.” She wiped some drool off the toddler’s chin with the corner of her apron. “He’s out back tending to the chickens. Have a seat, and I’ll inform him he has company.” She curtsied, nearly tipping off-balance due to the uncooperative toddler, and exited the room.
Lucas propped himself on the edge of a fairly worn chair, unsure if it would fully support his weight. The room was shabby but still felt homey and welcoming, with a braided rug Mrs. Allard had undoubtedly made herself covering the floor and freshly cut flowers sitting cheerily in an earthenware pot on the table.
Allard arrived shortly thereafter, drying his hands on a towel before reaching out to shake Lucas’s hand. “Welcome back, sir! I’m that pleased to see you again so soon. I’ve asked the missus to bring in some refreshment—or would you care to take luncheon with us?”
“Neither, thank you. I’m wondering, Mr. Allard, if you can spare an hour or so of your time. I’ve brought two of my brothers and our steward to inspect Primrose Farm for Miss Fernley, and I wonder if you might join us and fill in the gaps of our knowledge as it relates to the history of the place and those who worked there.”
“I’d be only too pleased to do so, sir. I shall saddle up my horse and join you there in, say, half hour’s time?”
“Excellent. Bid your good lady goodbye for me.” He tipped his hat and left.
Locating Allard hadn’t taken long at all, and when Lucas returned to Primrose Farm, he found Finch still poking around the exterior of the farmhouse. His brothers were inside the main parlor—in deep discussion about Lucas’s betrothed and her farm.
“I take your meaning, Thomas, but I’m certain she’s an altogether fine person, once one gets to know her,” Lucas overheard Isaac say.
“I, for one, am appalled,” Thomas replied. “The only asset Lucas is getting from this marriage is the woman herself, and if he wanted her so badly—as I’m sure he and many other men do—he should have set her up discreetly with her own household, not proposed to her and introduced her to Mama and our sisters. It’s utterly insupportable. Isobel was in such an ill humor last night, I could scarcely tolerate it.”
“Clara was shocked at first, I will confess, as were we all,” Isaac said. “And that hair of hersisrather brazen. But—”
Lucas had heard enough. He stalked away from the farmhouse, hands clenched, teeth grinding, working with all his might to bring his anger under control. If he confronted his brothers the way he was currently feeling, he’d end up using his fists rather than his intellect. It was what he’d been required to do for the past seven years—fight, battle, do damage to the enemy. Protect the innocent.
Except they weren’t the enemy; they were his brothers—decent men with decent lives and wives and families. If they believed such things about Lavinia, what must lesser men assume about her?
If her father were alive, Lucas would beat the man to a pulp, as he was still sorely tempted to do to his brothers at the moment.
I have been kissed, Lucas, but I have never kissed.
Those words had spoken volumes.
I think I may want to kiss you. Sometime. But not today.The innocence he’d seen in her face when she’d spoken those words to him—they had not been the words of a wanton, although they had succeeded in thoroughly seducing him.
He would do all in his power to defend her and her honor.
