The Heiress Gets a Duke

by Harper St. George

  She smiled in spite of herself. “Yes, I could tell you were the obstinate type immediately after meeting you.”

  Grinning more naturally now, he continued. “William was a scholar. He generally spent his days studying Latin and Greek philosophy, but he set his mind to farming for whatever reason and determined that the world was moving on without us. Did you see the ridges in the grazing fields you passed on your journey here?”

  She had.

  “Yes. It is called ridge and furrow and is a remnant of the Middle Ages. It is caused by the method employed to plow the same patch of land every year.” When he saw her confusion, he added, “They only cultivate the soil on one side of the plow per pass. Over time, those mounds result as the soil is built up. Our farmers were still employing the use of that plow even though there are more efficient tools that allow better and more thorough tilling. In fact, there are a great many more modern tools that we were not using: scarifiers, rollers, grubbers, clod crushers, reaper-binders.” He paused, giving her a self-effacing grin. “I have learned more about farming than I ever wanted to learn. All are machines built to increase the man power of a single farmer. Nevertheless, it was no use. Father refused any sort of modernization at all, even after William and I provided him with evidence of their efficiency.”

  August had no idea what machines he was talking about, but even she could understand the need to modernize farming techniques. “What happened?”

  “He simply refused all of our attempts to make him see reason. He believed that the land had supported these people for hundreds of years, and if it was failing them now, then it was their own burden to bear. It was as if he thought they were to blame for it.”

  August hadn’t spent a lot of time wondering about Rothschild’s father, but she had instinctively formed a poor opinion of the man. Now that opinion worsened. “But how could he be so callous? They cannot be blamed for market conditions beyond their control.”

  “I agree, but he would not be reasoned with. He was very much one of the men who live in the past and refuse to see the benefits of change.”

  “You are not one of those men?” She could plainly see that he was not, but she wanted him to elaborate.

  “I hope not. I very much hope to give them the tools necessary to lead successful lives. Harold’s son went to York because he would rather slave in a factory than starve on a farm, and I can hardly blame him.”

  She had seen all morning how difficult it was for him to visit the estate, but now the bitterness of his words confirmed it. He was embarrassed, and rightfully so. The estate had been mismanaged to the point of negligence from what she could ascertain. “What else would you do differently?”

  “Nearly everything. Most of it comes down to educating the farmers. Aside from the mechanized equipment to start, we must embrace the four-course technique in crop rotation, instead of the three-course, which allows for a fallow year. There is no time for years with no harvest, and they cling to it because they fear change and my father so instilled a love of tradition in them. We also must bring in cattle and pigs. No matter how I have stressed the importance of moving from crops, they refuse it.”

  “Why do they refuse the animals?”

  “I am told that genteel farmers do not dabble in animals. They are unclean and undignified.”

  “How unfortunate. Cattle farming is a prosperous industry in America. The railroads have helped to make it so.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I have studied your markets, as well as the markets in Britain and all of Europe. If I could get my farmers to cooperate, we could likely move into the nineteenth century before the twentieth century begins.”

  He took in a deep breath and looked at her again. His gaze caught hers, and the intensity was so great that she could not look away. She had never once seen him this passionate about anything except courting her, and she found that she rather liked this side of him. “The issue is that I lack the funds for the initial investment to ease their reticence and provide incentive. That is the true reason I brought you here. Yes, this marriage would be for financial gain. It seems only fair that you are able to see firsthand what your money would be funding. As I said before, the marriage is not simply for my own selfish gain. There are other lives at stake. Lives that I am responsible for.

  “There are families here, families struggling to eke out a living, and your contribution to our marriage would be for them. There are over two hundred of them on this estate alone.”

  He went silent as they rode on toward the next farm. She had to admit that she had never imagined the need was so great, or that it even really extended past his family. He was clever to bring her here. The Armstrongs had put a face on the very real human need, and it was hard to ignore. It wouldn’t make her change her mind about her own future, but it worked to soften her stance toward him. He was no longer a simple fortune hunter. He was a man determined to help the people who depended upon him. It was admirable. He was admirable.

  “How did you learn so much about farming? From your brother?”

  He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the house in the distance, another tenant farmer and his family out in the field. “I wish I could say that we had not let the matter drop, but we both did. After Father died and I learned the true state of our affairs, I knew that something had to be done. I have spent the past year studying modern farming methods.”

  “I think you’ve done an admirable job so far.”

  He glanced at her in surprise and shook his head again. “No, William would be much more suited to the task.”

  She opened her mouth to offer some consolation, but he clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward to greet the next farmer, who was already making his way toward them. This meeting commenced in a similar vein as the last. This farm and the one next to it were smaller in scope, and the houses were built close together, so they rode immediately for the next one.

  “If these visits are intended to demonstrate financial need, then I believe you have proven your point,” she said as they left the last family.

  “You have had enough?” His smile was slow, like that of someone who had revealed the worst about himself and come out the other side surprised to still be intact.

  She nodded. “We’ve been gone well over an hour. My parents are possibly worried.”

  “Possibly, but not likely,” he teased.

  She laughed, conceding his point. “You’re right. They would let you take me to the ends of the earth with barely a complaint. At any rate, I do not need to see more. I am more concerned with the question of your plan to move forward.”

  He was silent as he guided them to the path that would take them along the river again and back home. Finally, he said, “A plan without funding is no real plan, but yes, I have a plan. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, I believe I would. I could potentially offer some suggestions. I know little about farming, but I know something of business and investment planning. I could take a look and offer advice.”

  “By all means. I have an appointment to meet with my estate manager this afternoon. Join us.”

  She smiled, having anticipated his gracious refusal of her help. “Truly?”

  “Yes. I would be mad to refuse.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because while I have been humbled this past year, I have the good sense to recognize someone with sensible business acumen. I would not turn away any suggestions you have.”

  This was a new sort of flattery and one she was not at all immune to. Her heart flickered like a wild thing in her chest, and she had to take several breaths to calm herself.

  “Then yes, I will join you.”

  The smile stayed on her face the entire ride back to Charrington Manor. By the light of the full sun, the great house had a charm that she hadn’t noticed the day before. It was rather Gothic, but in an old-world charm sort o
f way, rather than the overwhelming intimidation that she had felt the day before. If houses could have personalities, and she was convinced that some could, this one would be a benevolent grandfather who had been quite charming in his day. With a new roof, new plaster, and a good scrubbing, the stones might take on a creamier tone rather than the grimy gray streaked with oxidized green.

  “You are smiling,” he remarked as they rode toward the stable.

  The stable boy came running out to hold her reins steady as Rothschild dismounted and came around to help her down. A little flutter of pleasure in her belly reminded her of her awareness of him when his hands gripped her waist. Using his strong shoulders for leverage, she allowed him to help her down. It was entirely decent but indecent at the same time. Countless stable hands and grooms had helped her dismount before, but their touch had felt cold and distant. Then again, theirs had never lingered on her waist like his.

  “Thank you.” Her voice trembled the tiniest bit as she stared up at him. There was a new depth to his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. “I am smiling, because I like the idea of helping you.”

  “Indeed?” His brow raised attractively. “I thought you rather enjoyed the idea of thwarting me.”

  “Can’t one do both?” she teased.

  “When one is named August, perhaps she can.”

  At the use of her name, she automatically looked for the boy, but he had already led their horses inside without her even noticing. Not that it mattered if he heard. Her parents would be thrilled if they knew Rothschild had used her name. Instinctively, she glanced toward the house, thinking to find them watching from a window. However, the stable faced away and was at the peak of a gentle slope, so they were blocked from view. The situation gave her an idea.

  “Do you plan to kiss me now?” Lord help her, but she wanted him to. She had decided that she would enjoy each and every kiss that he gave her this week, even if she did plan to thwart his goal of marriage. It was indeed possible to do both.

  He smiled, a big one that showed all his teeth and made her fixate on his lips. “Are you wanting to have it done with for the day?” he asked.

  “No.” She found herself being honest with him. “It simply seemed like something you would do.” Not honest enough to tell him that she wanted it. Not here in broad daylight.

  His hands tightened on her waist, and he pulled her toward him perhaps a fraction of an inch. She took a deep breath of bergamot, filling herself with him the only way she could. Every nerve ending had come alive with his nearness.

  “I will not be kissing you now, Miss Crenshaw.”

  Disappointment left her feeling heavy and flat. His smile had faded a bit, but it still lingered in his eyes, which had dropped to stare at her mouth. “In fact, I will not be kissing you anymore.”

  “What?”

  A hand came up to gently press against her cheek before his thumb caressed the fullness of her bottom lip. “I have had time to reflect on the deal we made, and I do not think it right and just to steal your kisses from you. They should be freely given.”

  She was astonished. Even while knowing his kisses were devastating to her state of mind, she had been looking forward to them. Did he know? Was he somehow trying to use that as leverage against her?

  He drew away and offered his arm, but the only thing she really wanted to do was have him in her arms with his lips on hers. No. More accurately, she wanted his mouth. The entire thing. She wanted his tongue licking at hers, and his teeth biting at her lips. She wanted her mouth at the mercy of his and whatever he wanted to show her. But nice, well-bred young women didn’t want such things, much less did they even think to ask for them.

  At a loss for how to proceed, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the house.

  “Cook will have prepared a small luncheon,” he was saying. “After, we can meet with Hughes, my estate manager.”

  She nodded her agreement and tried to appear very interested in what he was saying as she convinced herself that these urges toward him would go away.

  Chapter 16

  How little can be done under the spirit of fear.

  Florence Nightingale

  The afternoon meeting with the estate manager had left August feeling even more confused. Rothschild had been perfectly amicable to her, responding to her questions with appropriate interest and listening as she offered suggestions. His gaze had not once lingered on her lips, and he had made zero suggestive comments. She should feel relieved, because it must mean that he had given up his pursuit. Instead, she simply felt . . . empty, as if something was missing.

  His entirely appropriate and slightly maddening behavior had continued during dinner. He had treated her as he had every other guest. The same man who had caressed her so indecently but so deliciously at Camille’s ball now seemed undisturbed by her presence. She did not know what to make of that.

  Was it a trick? If so, it was a damn good one.

  That question followed her into the music room where they had all retired after dinner. The twins were entertaining them with a performance of Romeo and Juliet on the piano. They took turns playing and were both very good. August tried her best to enjoy it, but she couldn’t help being distracted.

  Her gaze kept drifting over to where he sat watching the performance. The room was arranged so that two sofas were positioned facing the piano in an L-shape with an armchair on either end. He occupied the sofa with her father, while his mother and hers sat in the armchairs. An elderly couple who had been invited for dinner, Sir Henry and his wife, occupied the other sofa. From the settee near the window that she shared with Violet, August was treated to a view of his profile, a very classical and exceptional profile.

  Violet hid her grin behind a glass of wine as she leaned over to whisper, “If you keep staring, everyone in this room will know how you really feel about him.”

  “What do you mean? I’m watching the twins.”

  A giggle was the only response to that. As they both knew she was lying, it was an appropriate response. “What happened between you this afternoon?” Violet asked after she had sobered.

  Glancing at everyone to make certain their whispered conversation wasn’t overheard, she said, “It was glorious. We met with Mr. Hughes, and Rothschild allowed me to see everything. All of it. Every ledger with every line item recording every debt.”

  “Is it terrible?”

  “Oh yes, decidedly so.” Another glance to make certain they were not being observed. “He’s going to need an heiress to save him.”

  They both laughed, drawing a disapproving glance from their mother. Straightening to show that she was contrite, she waited for her mother to face forward again before saying, “Truthfully, I feel a bit sad for him.”

  “Sad?” Violet spoke a bit too loudly for comfort. Her brow furrowing, she pretended to smooth the ribbon on her bodice as she waited until the music worked its way toward a crescendo before continuing. “Sadness for the fortune-hunting aristocrat who wears custom suits and owns countless estates?”

  “I know how it sounds, but he did nothing to cause his debt.”

  “He did nothing to not cause it,” said Violet.

  Another glance from their mother sent August to her feet under the pretenses of refilling her wineglass. Violet followed her lead, and they both made their discreet exit from the room and out into the long gallery that held portraits of all the dukes of Rothschild and their progeny. A footman closed the door to the music room behind them.

  August’s gaze was caught by the Elizabethan-era duke staring down at them with disapproval. His hair was darker than Rothschild’s, but he had the same eyes. The same direct way of staring at one. A flutter of awareness awoke in her tummy, and she would have laughed at the sensation if she wasn’t so disturbed.

  Keeping her voice low, she said, “You are right. He was a reckless fool w
ho spent more than he should have, but I blame his father for not telling the family of their straightened circumstances. That man had the family live on credit and the strength of their good name for at least a decade. Rothschild is not blameless, but I commend him for trying to do something about it.”

  Violet moved to stand in front of August, her eyes narrowed in concern. “But he’s trying to force you into marriage, August. That is not commendable.”

  “No, it’s not. However, I told you about the deal we made. I will walk away at the end of the week.”

  Violet stared at her with a curious expression. It was almost as if she didn’t believe her, and that put August on the defensive. “I was impressed with the plan he had in place to improve his circumstances. He’s researched everything needed to make the farms more efficient. From newer strains of grain and corn resistant to mold and pests, to mechanized equipment that would make the farms more efficient, to a plan of annual investment for a small percentage of profits meant to be an insurance against future failures, I can see that he’s been busy since his father’s death.”

  Violet watched her quietly as they walked the length of the gallery. Her brown eyes had gone from concerned to thoughtful. “I suppose it’s good that he’s taking his circumstances seriously,” she finally said. “Are all the estates so dire?”

  August shrugged. “I believe so, but the extensive records are kept in town at Sterling House where his father resided. Rothschild showed me drafts of similar plans for improvement for each one.”

  Violet sighed and stopped before one of the portraits to look it over as she ruminated. Finally, she said, “Meanwhile, the tenants continue to suffer.”

  August nodded. After luncheon, she had shared with Violet the details of the morning, even the fact that he refused the offer to kiss her.