“Have Edward and his father always had so much trouble getting along?”
“It’s not Edward. He could get along with the devil.” Nellie’s answer was forceful and defiant. “The viscount should adore that boy. Edward’s hard work is the only reason they’ve got a pot to piss in.”
Over the next twenty minutes Nellie showed Eden a side of Edward she’d only begun to suspect. She’d known he loved the estate and was concerned about the welfare of the tenants. She didn’t know that as a teenager he’d taken over running the estate from a thieving manager because his father had no interest and his great-uncle didn’t know how. She didn’t know he took a personal interest in every tenant family, even going so far as to secure apprenticeships for several boys, an academic scholarship for Nellie’s son, jobs when they were too old for school, and medical attention when tenants were sick. She didn’t know he was helping Sam Kell-away buy land so the tenant could own his own farm.
“You make him sound like Santa Claus and a genie with a magic lamp all rolled up in one.”
“I don’t know anything about genies or magic lamps, but at one time or another he’s done something for every family in Green Moss. We’re looking forward to the day when he inherits the title.”
Eden was afraid they were in for a long wait. The earl was in good health, and the viscount looked barely old enough to have a twenty-five-year-old son.
“I can understand, but I can’t wish my grandfather dead,” Eden said.
“Who’s wishing the earl dead?” Edward asked from the doorway. He was so tall and broad-shouldered he filled the opening.
“We were just saying we wished your great-uncle a long life and good health,” Eden said.
“Me, too,” Edward said. “I like the old buzzard. Besides, he occasionally agrees with me. He actually gave me some money to buy a small tract of land last year. My father had been planning to spend it on a new carriage.”
“What would he need with a new carriage?” Nellie asked. “He’s hardly ever here.”
“Exactly what the earl said. Now, I’d better take Eden away before you fill her head with any more nonsense about me.”
“I was only telling her the truth,” Nellie insisted.
“The truth as you see it.” Edward’s smile was kind and his eyes were filled with genuine fondness. “Ever since I helped her boy Hubert to a place in a public school, Nellie has tried to turn me into a saint. I keep telling her I did it to get the boy out of my hair.”
“I can just see that now,” Eden said.
“If you’d seen how my father reacted to Hubert prowling over the estate making lists of ways to run the place more efficiently, you’d know why I had to get rid of him. Now I have to get you back so you don’t miss your tour with Patrick.”
“I’m sure Daphne will be glad of your return,” Eden said when they were on their way back to Worlege.
“I have to work. I’ve already let my temper cause me to waste too much time.”
“I don’t see how you can think of spending time with your fiancée a waste of time.”
“I’m trying to get Worlege out of debt so Daphne won’t think I’m only marrying her for her fortune.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
Edward’s hands tightened on the reins until his horse tossed his head at the pressure. She couldn’t decide whether she felt sorry for him because he was caught in a web and couldn’t find a way out, or frustrated with him for not taking control of his life. She was startled to realize her concern for him had developed into something much warmer. She had to rein in her feelings immediately. That was a dead end for both of them.
“I’m not as insensitive as you think.” Edward’s voice was tight, his gaze remaining straight ahead. “I haven’t yet asked Daphne to marry me, because I have to know she won’t be miserable stuck in the country for the rest of her life.”
“What will you do if she hates Worlege?”
Edward’s laugh was devoid of humor. “Disappear and let Patrick inherit the title.”
“Does he have an heiress who wants to marry him?”
“Heiresses never waste themselves on younger sons. What’s the point of having all that money if it can’t buy you a title?”
Eden couldn’t understand this concept of buying and selling titles that involved buying and selling people as well. Edward might say it was an equal bargain, but the way she saw it, all the advantages belonged to the man. “I think what you’re doing is barbaric.”
“What would you have me do? Refuse Daphne so her father can sell her to someone who really does only want her money, who will waste her fortune on gambling and other women?”
“That doesn’t have to happen. There’s no reason she—”
“This is not America. It’s not Texas. Daphne has no control over what happens to her. She belongs to her father just as much as his money does. And if he wants a title for his cash, he’ll get it one way or the other. And once she’s married, only an act of the House of Lords can grant her a divorce.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s just it,” Edward snapped. “You don’t understand. I belong to my father just as Daphne does to hers. I can run away, but I’d still be the heir. Taking care of my family and everyone who depends on us would still be my duty. Everybody in Green Moss depends on Worlege. If we go under, what happens to them?”
The hard line of his jaw, the way he compressed his mouth, told Eden that Edward wasn’t willing to discuss the situation any more, but he was right about one thing. She didn’t understand. She’d never understand how a father could sell his daughter for a title. What did it mean to be the wife of an earl? Daphne would live in a big house and go to fancy parties, but she already lived in a big house and went to fancy parties. She would be a member of aristocratic society, but would she really belong? Money could buy her the title, but it could never buy her acceptance.
Eden knew what that meant. It had prompted her brothers to come back to the Hill Country and into the circle of the family that loved them without conditions. Zeke and Hawk had held out the longest, but not even Arizona was willing to give full acceptance to an ex-slave and a half-breed Indian. Eden couldn’t imagine English society would be any more accepting of Daphne. The only possible reason for attempting to break into such a closed society would be because she was marrying a man she loved so much that acceptance didn’t matter.
But Daphne didn’t love Edward and he didn’t love Daphne. Try as she might, Eden couldn’t see much satisfaction in the marriage for either of them.
“It was so nice of you to invite Edward and me into your home,” Daphne said to the tenant they were visiting. She picked up her skirts, holding them close to her body, as if she were afraid they would come into contact with dirt or vermin on Sally Hopkins’s carefully swept floor. “Edward holds you and your husband in great regard,” she said, turning toward him and smiling.
“Not nearly so much as we think of him,” Sally said. “We don’t know what we would have done this past year without his help.”
“Edward knows his duty,” Daphne said.
Edward felt as if he were taking part in a play in which everyone knew their lines, had rehearsed the scene, and were now playing it out to perfection. There was nothing real here. In desperation he picked up Sally’s youngest, a little girl of two with enormous blue eyes and stringy blond hair that bore no evidence of the thorough brushing her mother had probably given it that morning. He tickled her ribs and was rewarded with shrieks of laughter.
“You’ll spoil her, sir,” Sally said.
“She’s a baby,” Edward said. “All babies should be spoiled.” He knew he had been in the beginning.
Daphne stared at him with a look of total incomprehension. She’d been trained, he realized, in the role of mistress of a large house with an attached estate. She’d been taught she would occasionally have to visit tenants and their families. She hadn’t been taught they were real people just like
her, that they had feelings and ambitions and a sense of self that deserved respect. She had been taught they were fixtures in her world, to be dealt with as one would any other belonging. She would never have thought of taking one of Sally’s children into her lap.
“She’ll expect the same attention when you come back,” Sally warned Edward.
“I’ll be happy to oblige,” Edward said as he handed the child to her mother. “Remind Joe I need to talk to him about the north field. I looked at it again today. It needs to lie fallow another year.”
“We need the income,” Sally said. “How are we to feed five little ones without that field?”
“You’ll have income from the extra hay. With another year of good manuring, it ought to come back strong.”
“Is that the way you treat all your tenants?” Daphne asked when she was back in the carriage.
“Is there something wrong?” Maybe he was only imagining the disapproval in her voice, but he wasn’t imagining the confusion on her face.
“Mrs. Jessop says one should ignore servants, that one should act as though they don’t exist.”
It took Edward a full minute to control his temper sufficiently to keep him from saying something rude and hurtful. It had been a really difficult day. On top of his father’s abuse at breakfast, it seemed a dozen things had gone wrong in his absence. It had taken all of his self-control to act as though he wanted to spend the afternoon driving Daphne around the estate. He had hoped the tenants’ friendliness would ease her constraint, but she was as stiff now as she had been at the first cottage. She couldn’t understand why he was interested in anything outside the main house.
“My tenants aren’t servants,” Edward said. “They’re more like partners. I own the land, they work it, and we share the profits. Without them, Worlege wouldn’t exist.”
Daphne’s face was blank. She didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“It’s the same with the servants,” he added, plunging ahead. “Worlege isn’t like London, where you hire servants for the season. Our servants have families in Green Moss. Some families have worked at Worlege for generations. When they retire, they stay here. I don’t ignore people who work for me. It’s important that they do a good job. When they do, I let them know. It builds loyalty and pride in their work.”
He could tell from Daphne’s expression that this was a concept missing from her education, but Eden would understand. She’d talked with the groom who cared for the horse she rode, complimented him on keeping the equipment in such excellent condition, even threatened to take the groom back to Texas with her. The man had grinned like a Cheshire cat. The next time Eden went for a ride, Edward was certain her equipment would sparkle like new.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by Daphne’s attitude. His own family was the same. Only Patrick had begun to understand what Edward knew instinctively. Edward wondered why he himself was so different. Why did he love the land? Why did he feel excited to see a field of wheat gleaming golden in the summer sun, the ripening heads of grain bending and twisting in the breeze that rippled across the field? Yet the addition of a new carpet or a set of china went unnoticed. Why was he more interested in people like Sally Hopkins and Sam Kellaway than any titled aristocrat? Why would he rather spend the evening in the village pub discussing what to plant in which field than attending a fancy ball in London?
“Mrs. Jessop says a lady must preserve her dignity at all times,” Daphne said. “I hope you don’t expect me to visit these people on my own.”
“I don’t agree with Mrs. Jessop,” Edward snapped. “I don’t find my dignity is so fragile it needs to be preserved at the expense of others.”
He was sorry as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Daphne acted cold and aloof, but he wondered if she might not be feeling a little unsure and afraid. She had been brought up to believe her beauty and wealth—not any intrinsic worth of her own—were all that made her an acceptable wife for an earl. By marrying Edward she would step up into a class where every deed, word, and gesture would be noticed and judged. She was probably afraid any relaxation in the behavior she’d been taught would render her unfit. Considering all that, was it fair to expect her to be any different, to act like Eden?
Maybe he should ask what Daphne wanted. Even though it had probably been drilled into her that she must rigidly control her feelings, there had to be something she wanted from her husband besides a title. He’d been trained from birth to do his duty, but he had a whole list of things that were important to him, things he wouldn’t compromise on. Surely she must feel the same. Edward turned to Daphne and asked, “Do you love me?”
Chapter Seven
Why would you ask such a question?”
Daphne’s startled expression reinforced his suspicion that she’d been taught never to expect love in marriage. “Eden says she’d never marry a man she didn’t love, who didn’t love her,” Edward explained. “I wondered if you felt the same.”
Daphne drew herself up in a manner that reminded Edward of the disapproving matrons he’d encountered in London. “I should hope that as we become better acquainted, we will grow to have a sincere regard for each other.” She might as well have been repeating a lesson she’d learned by rote. There was no emotion, no feeling in her voice or expression. “Mrs. Jessop says love is an unstable passion that distorts a person’s perspective and understanding of what is important.”
“Eden believes in love,” Edward said. “Do you think her perspective is distorted?”
“I would never wish to speak unkindly of your relations,” Daphne said, looking more like an imperious dowager than ever, “but Eden and I have very different ideas of what is suitable for a lady. I know very little about America and nothing about Texas, but what they do there would never be acceptable in English society. She doesn’t care if people approve of what she does.” Daphne practically shuddered. “I should hope I would never become indifferent to public opinion.”
“So you think it’s wrong to love your husband or be loved by him?”
Daphne looked as if she’d been asked a question that wasn’t supposed to be on the test and was uncomfortable because she didn’t know the answer. “I can’t say it’s wrong to love your husband.” She enunciated love as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I’ve never been afflicted by that emotion. It’s much better to admire and respect the person you marry so you can entrust your life, your fortune, and the lives of your future children into his hands.”
Edward believed that, too, but he wanted more than admiration and respect. He wasn’t sure what he wanted in a wife, but he knew it wouldn’t find it with Daphne. He was equally certain she wouldn’t find what she needed from a husband in him.
“Would you think less of me if I said I hoped my wife would love me?” For a moment Daphne looked at a loss for words and Edward hoped she’d say what she thought instead of what she’d been taught to think.
“Mrs. Jessop says you’re an admirable man, that I’m fortunate my future will be in your care. My father assures me your character is well-formed, and you’ll be a credit to your family.”
“Then Mrs. Jessop and your father haven’t been listening to my father.”
He sounded like he was whining rather than merely weary of the constant battle of wills. What he couldn’t comprehend was why his father’s dislike of him had grown until it bordered on hatred. He could understand why Patrick was favored, but the viscount acted as if Edward had committed a sin of such magnitude there could be no forgiveness.
“I know I shouldn’t say this,” Daphne began. “I’ve tried very hard not to feel this way—”
Edward’s pulse went from a trot to a gallop. Was Daphne going to say she didn’t want to marry him? He was surprised to find his most prominent feeling was one of relief. Freed from the obligation of courting Daphne, he would be able to devote all his energy to Worlege and the people who depended on it. He could spend the entire year on the estate, putting money into bu
ying new land, improving the old.
“Mrs. Jessop will say I’m a very foolish girl,” Daphne began, “but I cannot live in this place.” The sweep of her hand indicated the sprawling house behind them. “I was not raised to be a farmer’s wife.”
Abruptly, Edward was confronted with an entirely different vision, one of his father’s rage over the broken engagement, his being cut off from having anything to do with the management of the estate, the family sinking into bankruptcy, and him being sent away from Worlege. It was the only home he’d ever known, the place he loved above all others. There had to be a compromise.
“I would never require you to live at Worlege all the time,” Edward said. “Naturally we would move to London for the Season.”
“That would still mean spending the greater part of each year here,” Daphne pointed out. “I know nothing about crops and find farm animals disgusting. I want concerts and parties, neighbors closer than six miles away. I have nothing to say to your tenants or people in the village. How could I? We don’t inhabit the same world.”
Edward suppressed a sharp retort. Daphne had never before been outside of London and had been taught to look down on people she considered beneath her. She’d never had an opportunity to meet these people, get to know them, realize they were often more worthy of her respect and admiration than members of her own class. That wouldn’t happen in the few days that remained of her visit. It would take time, time he would have only if he found a compromise they could both accept. “There would be no need for you to accompany me to Worlege every time I came. Your presence would only be required a few times each year.”
Daphne thought for a moment. “I don’t see how that would change the way I feel, but I’ll ask your mother what would be expected of me.”
Edward was ashamed of himself for feeling relieved. He should have been more concerned for Daphne’s happiness. He should have been more concerned for his own integrity; he’d never guessed the extent to which he was willing to compromise to win security for his family. Instead, all he could think was that he’d been given a little more time to try to find a solution to this seemingly insoluble problem.
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