by June Calvin
“You surely do not intend to hold your brother to this foolish bet, Livvy.” Corbright moved in front of her, standing too close, his position such as to suggest an intimacy that she found all the more uncomfortable because it had once been so very much what she wished for. “You cannot mean to make a farmhand of the boy.”
She wondered exactly what Jason had told him. If he had given away the part about trying to marry her to Lord Edmund, she would wring his neck. “I’ve no intention of doing so, Lord Corbright.” She stressed his title and moved backward, firmly rejecting what his posture and use of her pet name implied.
Corbright pivoted toward her brother. “No? That is not what it seems.” He plucked a bit of hay from Jason’s hair. “Next I expect to see him wielding a scythe.”
“I say! The very thing! Much more fun than stacking hay.” Jason brushed at his clothing and grimaced humorously.
“No, brother. We’ll leave the mowing to men accustomed to the scythe. You and Lord Edmund agreed to apprentice yourselves to me as estate managers, not fieldhands. You should have a look at Lord Corbright’s horses. After all, the stud is an important part of your estate.”
Jason took this notion up instantly. “Just so. Come along, Lord Edmund.”
Edmund shook his head. “You seem to forget we have neither horse nor carriage at our disposal, and your sister has something of a mess on her hands.”
“The workers will pick that up,” Jason declared, waving this objection away. “And we can return to the manor with Aunt Lavinia, for I certainly shan’t wear these clothes anywhere!”
“You go on, then,” Edmund declared. “I intend to remain here. Miss Ormhill needs help getting her hay in, and I intend to do just that.” He deliberately made his tone disdainful.
Jason’s chin came up. “I’ll stay too, then. You can explain to me how to keep it on the wagon this time.”
Corbright’s glance shifted from Olivia to Edmund and back again. His lips tightened, though his words were cordial. “As you wish. But you doubtless are a prime judge of horseflesh, Edmund. I would like you to take a look at a filly I think to purchase. Godolphin’s line, and looks to be fast.”
Edmund was tempted; there was no gainsaying that. He had a weakness for fine horses, and knew himself to be an excellent judge. But he also knew Corbright. He had been the victim of some cruel pranks into which he had been drawn, a naive boy seeking the company of his much admired older brother, by the cozening ways of Franklin Melwin. He had no wish to spend time with the man.
“I am no child to be tricked into a leaky boat now, Frank,” he growled. “Nor is young Jason such a fribble as to leave his sister in the lurch when she is short of workers and has an abundant harvest of hay to bring in.”
Corbright’s smile twisted a little, resembling a sneer as he looked at Olivia. “You do appear to be a little short-handed, my dear. Tch. You should realize that the haying won’t wait on your whims. Your fields should be full of workers now, as mine are.”
Olivia could bear it no longer. “Your fields are full of my workers, Lord Corbright. Hired from me at double wages, poor ignorant creatures.”
“Ignorant? I think not.” Corbright laughed patronizingly. “What man in his right mind wouldn’t take double wages? I need their labor; they need the money. Business, my love. If you understood these things so ill, you should never have set yourself up as an estate manager.”
“How dare you!” Olivia felt her cheeks flushing. Aunt Lavinia’s hand was on her sleeve, urging temperance. She lowered her voice. “Do not dare to call me your love, or I shall slap your faithless face.”
“Mmmmm. The lady doth protest too much.” Corbright flicked her cheek briefly with his right hand. Several of the workers tittered, reminding them all once again that they had an audience.
Olivia turned toward the sound. “Get to work, all of you. Lunch is over, and we have much to do.”
Corbright turned to the knot of men nearby. “Come and work for me, if you do not like being ordered about by a woman. As Miss Ormhill said, I am paying double wages this year, and—”
“See here,” Jason protested.
“And who is to carry your families through the winter if you work for him?” Olivia snapped. “I have always made bread available to my workers’ families throughout the winter. But I shan’t be able to do so this year if my crops ruin in the field.”
“The county will give us bread, Miss Ormhill,” one bold young man called out.
“You men can get bread from the outdoor relief, true enough. But do not forget, as my other workers have, that your ration will feed only you, not your family.”
Several of the women began to murmur and move among the men. Clearly they found this argument persuasive, even if all of the men did not. The group of workers drifted toward the pile of hay and the wagons.
Corbright snorted. “Sentimental twaddle. Such patriarchal solicitude has no place in the modern world. Jason, instead of being schooled by your sister, why do you not school her to return to her needlework? You’ll be a poor man at this rate.”
But Jason, feckless, heedless Jason, stood silent, fists clenched. Edmund could see that the scales had fallen from his eyes. “You tried to hire our workers right from under us. And here I thought you were hoping to regain Olivia’s affection.”
“That were a forlorn hope indeed,” Olivia said. “Come, dear. Lord Corbright has much work to do, and so do we.” She attempted to turn Jason from the confrontation.
“Your sister has no affections to engage,” Corbright retorted, his face almost purple with anger. “She’s turning into a harpy, an ape leader, but that doesn’t mean you have to let her bankrupt you. Come, Jason, be a man. Stand up to her.”
Edmund wanted to put his fist through Corbright’s scheming face, but saw no way to intervene without extinguishing Jason’s suddenly kindled manhood. He stepped a bit closer, though, and knew by the tightening of Corbright’s jaw muscle that his support of Jason had been noted.
“My sister is not a harpy,” Jason responded. “You think to turn me against her. If you are paying double wages, you have been conspiring to destroy her, and me as well. How could I have been so blind? You have outworn your welcome, sir. I am sure my sister will join me in desiring you, in the future, to approach your estate by the public road instead of across our property.”
“You are a fool, boy! She’ll squander your inheritance, and then where will you be?” Corbright clapped his expensive beaver derby on his head. “Under the cat’s-paw and not even married.”
Jason started for him; Edmund caught at his elbow, stopping him before he had well begun the charge.
“And you are de trop, Franklin. I know a gentleman of your impeccable lineage would not wish to linger where he is not wanted.”
Twin gasps from the Ormhill women followed Edmund’s words, for they knew just how provocative they must be to the grandson of a gunsmith and son of a munitions manufacturer, whose late father had been so recently made a baron the ink had scarcely dried upon the parchment. Corbright started toward him, then checked his stride. Edmund held those pale blue eyes with his own until Corbright looked away.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Jason sputtered, striking at Edmund’s hand where it gripped his elbow.
But Corbright turned on his heel. Without another word he mounted his horse and rode away. And Edmund noted his direction with great satisfaction. “He’s taking the road, Jason. You did well.”
“I’d have done a great deal better to give him a facer. I’ll thank you not to play nursemaid.” Jason’s fists were clenched. Clearly he would like to take on Edmund now that Corbright was out of reach. “Put your hand on me again, if you dare!”
“Not now. Your sister has enough on her plate.”
Jason looked at Olivia’s pale, drawn features. “Now, Livvy. Don’t fret,” he said, catching her up in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me what that mushroom was up to?”
“I . . .”
Olivia leaned against him, straining to hold back tears. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“War,” Lavinia intoned. “Not flirting, not trying to rekindle your affections. War. I feel quite as bad as Jason, encouraging him as I did.”
Edmund felt admiration at the way the family drew together. He also felt envy, and a deep sense of loneliness. He turned away, for he had a hay wain to unload.
Chapter Eight
Jason surprised Edmund by working hard alongside him the rest of that long summer day. He listened carefully to instructions on loading the hay wain, and as the workers tossed hay up to him, he became increasingly efficient at catching and placing it. He received a rousing cheer from workers and family alike when his second wagon made it to the barn without mishap. If it was not stacked quite as high as Edmund’s, no one cared. The young squire basked in the praise. By the time the sun set, all of the hay that had been previously cut and dried in the fields was securely stacked in the hay barn and a good start made on cutting the next meadow.
At dinner, Edmund apologized for appearing at the table in riding clothes, the same he had worn the night before.
“I expect your trunks have gone to your brother’s, Lord Edmund?” Lavinia asked.
“They are in London awaiting my directions,” he replied. “I had thought to send the bulk of my possessions on to whatever estate was assigned to me for training.” They would wait there a long time, he mused bitterly, for such a destination. “I will send for them tomorrow.”
They would barely outrun the bills for the tradesmen who had made them, he knew. He had bespoken a small but adequate wardrobe for a country gentleman before departing London, not realizing that every bit of cash he had would be needed to pay the last of his mother’s debts. How will I pay for them? he wondered.
A quiet in the room brought Edmund’s attention back to the Ormhills. “I am sorry, my mind wandered momentarily,” he apologized.
“You are both dead on your feet, I daresay.” Olivia stood. “Shall we make an early night of it?”
Jason grumbled that he had no wish for bed at ten of the clock, and invited Edmund to go to the Black Lion with him for a pint.
“I will, and gladly,” Edmund replied, standing. “I just want a brief word with your sister first.”
Jason agreed to this with transparent eagerness, and Lavinia showed no inclination to play chaperon. “I, for one, am quite exhausted. I shall turn in now.” She hastened out of the room behind her nephew.
Edmund bit back a smile at their tactics. Having given up on Corbright, they once again began to pin their hopes on him. He darted a quick glance to see what Olivia thought of the matter. To his relief, her eyes sparkled with humor. “I shall follow shortly, Aunt,” she said to Lavinia’s rapidly retreating back, then sat down again. She even patted the seat beside her on the sofa, indicating that Edmund should join her there.
This looks promising. Edmund sat beside her, pleased but a little unsure how to proceed. “Miss Ormhill, I—”
“Will you call me Olivia?” she asked.
Better and better. “If you will call me Edmund.”
“I will. Before you state whatever it was you wished to speak to me about, please let me thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Her words and the fervor with which she spoke them took Edmund by surprise. “Thank me?”
“I am persuaded you prevented a fight between Jason and Corbright today.”
Did I? Edmund decided he could take credit, which he certainly needed with the beauty who sat so close beside him. “I couldn’t permit him to goad the boy into a duel.”
“It is what I have feared would happen once Jason realized what that beast was doing to us. He has such a quick temper, and I am not sure just how far Corbright is willing to take this quarrel. At any rate, I appreciate your support. Now, what was it you wanted to say to me?”
“Ah, I fear I am out of turn, and telling you nothing you do not already know, but . . .”
“Yes?” Chin up, she reminded him of a boxer squaring off for the beginning of a bout.
“You cannot bring in yours and Jason’s hay in time with the crew you had today.”
“I know that very well. I can do only what is possible.”
“Perhaps . . .” Edmund did not like to offend her, nor did he blame her for being impatient toward one so clearly inferior to her in knowledge of farming in general and her own land and surroundings in particular.
She raised skeptical eyebrows.
“I passed High Wycombe a half day from here. It is a market town. Surely you could hire some workers there.”
“One would think so.” Olivia’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I went there yesterday.”
“And?”
“The few who had not yet been hired by others had no wish to be hired by a lady farmer. I have largely overcome that sort of thing here in the valley, but where I am not known . . .”
“Yes. I can imagine seeing a lovely young lady such as yourself in the guise of an overseer is somewhat unnerving to the uninitiated.” Edmund smiled, trying to imagine the rough country types he had seen standing in the square hoping to be hired, being approached by Miss Olivia Ormhill in a pretty muslin dress and a fetching bonnet.
“Well, railing against the stupidity of the male of the species will not solve my problem.”
“Do not spare my feelings, Miss Ormhill. Speak your mind to this stupid male by all means.”
“I do beg your pardon. I am all too likely to do so, as you may have perhaps observed.” She seemed genuinely contrite, so Edmund smiled.
“How can I fail to forgive so charming a traducer?”
She bridled at the gallantry. “Do you have any other suggestions, Lord Edmund? If not, I feel our conversation is at an end.”
Prickly female! Edmund frowned. “Perhaps if Jason or I—”
“Yes.” Olivia clearly had anticipated this suggestion. “I will ask him tomorrow. He will do it, of course. Until today I could not have been sure of interesting him in the problem. I have you to thank for that.”
Edmund’s innate honesty would not allow him to take this much credit. “I think not. You kept your difficulties from him because of your fears about Corbright’s intentions. And you are still afraid.”
“After today, my fears have intensified. Would he, could he, be so evil as to force a duel on my brother, just to get back at me?”
Edmund reached for the tensely clasped hands and gently unwound them. Taking them firmly between his own, he said, “I don’t know, but he will have to deal with me first if he tries.”
Olivia looked from her hands, swallowed by his larger ones, to his face bending near hers. She felt herself leaning toward him. So warm, those hands, so strong. So competent-seeming, the man who sat near her. It tempted her beyond reason to put her affairs into those hands.
“Oh!” She jerked away and jumped up. “Do not!”
Edmund stood, too. “Do not what?”
“Make love to me. Use any trick you can to draw me to you. And my brother and aunt will help you in any way they can, the traitors! It won’t work, though! You may as well be on your way. As I said last night, I’ll not wed any man, especially one whose interest is in my land and fortune only.”
At first her words angered him. But as he glared at her, her lower lip trembled, and he could see the vulnerability, the hurt in her eyes. He reached out to grasp her hands once more.
“Olivia, I find you a devilishly attractive woman. A prickly sort, to be sure, but understandably so. If I could convince you to wed me, I would, and gladly. But not by seduction. Nor by trick, nor force. It is not my way.”
“Huh! So high-principled. Yesterday morning you would have wed my aunt without a murmur, thinking her the one with the property.” Olivia tried to tug her hands away. Unsuccessful in escaping his grasp, she tossed up her head defiantly.
He flashed a wicked grin. “I would have, to honor my wager. But not half so eagerly as I wo
uld have wed you. But that is behind us. I am released from my wager, and have won from you the right to learn to manage a large estate. I can’t do that if the estate is ruined by Corbright, now, can I?” He let her go. “So I intend to assist you in any way I can.”
Olivia looked into eyes that seemed sincere. Of course, she had seen such a look in other eyes. Lying eyes. Still, in the battle against Corbright she needed allies, and however false he might be about his interest in her, Lord Edmund seemed very sincere about his desire for agricultural experience.
“Very well,” she said, stepping a little farther away, because she wanted far too much to step forward into the circle of his arms. “I appreciate that. You shall accompany him to High Wycombe tomorrow, to hire additional workers.”
Edmund formally bowed to her and bade her good evening, then left the room to join Jason, whom he expected to be waiting impatiently at the front entrance with their saddled horses. As he approached the front door, he found it open and the stairs and carriageway crowded with people, all seemingly talking at once. Buckman, the butler, stood in the door arguing with a rough country fellow who was demanding entry. Beyond him, by flickering torchlight, Jason could be seen standing in the midst of the crowd, trying to shout them down.
Edmund paused to survey the scene, trying to make sense of it. “What is going on, Mr. Buckman?” he demanded.
“I do not know, sir, but their sort must go to the tradesmen’s entrance, and so I have told this brute, but he won’t listen.”
Edmund thrust past the struggling butler and grasped his opponent by the neck of his shirt. “What do you mean by this, my man?” he yelled.
“I mean to see Miss Ormhill, I do. Got a question for her, and mean to hear her answer it.”
“You know the answer, for I told it to you,” a red-faced woman screamed in his ear. “If you don’t work for Miss, we’ll have naught to eat this winter.”
“M’lord Corbright said she’d no choice but to give us bread, for it is the law.”
“Lord Corbright is mistaken, Jeremiah Bleck.” A quiet, yet firm voice nearby told Edmund that Olivia had joined him. At her words, Bleck ceased his struggles, so Edmund let him go.