Chapter 16 #2
He did not smile, even though his eyes twinkled. “Ellie . . . I have thirty years more in me, barring a disaster. My father lived to be ninety years old and only stopped farming two years before his death. Do you expect his lordship to develop a poor memory for faces?”
Ellie threw up her hands and huffed. “I don’t know, George. Nothing was supposed to take these turns when I started this plan. Leonard wasn’t supposed to die, and I wasn’t supposed to be removed from the estate. What am I supposed to do?”
“Tell him who you are and what you know?” George suggested in a flat tone, beginning to walk again.
“No,” she said at once. “A woman being an estate agent? It would be laughable. My reputation would be ruined, and the scandal that would come back to Fenmore for hiring a female estate agent would be so destructive.”
“The proof is in the results, Ellie-girl. And if you think his lordship would let scandal taint Fenmore, you are quite mistaken.” He shook his head, a knowing look in his eye. “If he got upset about the thing, he would keep it very quiet and ensure no one was the wiser.”
Clearly, George was unaware that West was capable of rudeness, yelling, and a thunderous temper.
The scandal might not reach the ears of the locals, but it would never leave Ellie’s life or her name.
West could easily make her a persona non grata if he knew what she had been doing, even if it was working.
She could not afford any of this.
“Can you show me where you think we ought to lay the clay pipes?” Ellie asked in a low voice, changing the subject without addressing what George had said.
It was clear they were not going to agree about the risks of revealing the truth, and her limited time remaining at Fenmore would be better served working rather than wallowing.
They walked the entirety of the boggy field, avoiding the worst spots with observant steps.
Two of the other farmers with neighboring fields came over and walked with them for part of the time, the four of them sharing opinions and thoughts on the draining of this field as well as the prospect of building—or reinforcing—stone walls around the bordering fields where most of the trouble from miners had taken place.
It would also help to contain the flocks of sheep when they were brought in and began to rove in the areas meant for them.
The boundaries of the estate had been something Ellie had wanted to take care of during her time here, but other priorities had been more crucial to the development and improvement of matters.
This task . . . this was one that she could still see through without much involvement from West or disrupting what would almost certainly be his primary concerns.
Perhaps it could be the one last major thing she could see to before she was asked to leave Fenmore.
Something that not only protected Fenmore and its lands, but improved the appearance of it.
If walls were up in the country, they ought to be picturesque as well as strong.
The occasional broken, crumbling walls still in existence only added to the sense of abandonment and hopelessness of the place.
Not at all the sort of impression anyone would wish for.
The sun was high in the sky by the time Ellie shook the farmers’ hands and started her walk back to the house.
Her boots were filthy, covered in the muck from the boggy field, and her hair was damp at her hairline from the perspiration of what was destined to be a warm day, but she felt pleased with what she had accomplished and the conversations she had had.
The land was indeed ready to be drained, and the wheat harvest next year would be excellent from such a rich field, barring disasters.
She’d ask West if she could arrange for stone walls to be restored and worked on in the next few weeks, after which it would likely be time for harvest. If she could remain through the harvest and see the arrival of the sheep, she could leave Fenmore without regrets.
“Again without a horse, Elena?”
West’s voice rumbled nearby, sending echoes of sensation coursing down her arms and legs. She looked up and saw him walking towards her, cravat gone, but otherwise in perfect traveling clothes. She hadn’t received word he would be returning today, yet here he was.
Had he only just arrived? Had he been waiting for her and grown impatient?
She looked at him for a quick moment, noting the strain in his features and the fatigue in his frame. Long trips from London could certainly do that to a body, but considering what he had been in London to do, she wondered if there might have been more to it than that.
He cleared his throat and she met his eyes, her cheeks heating at being caught looking him over.
“Elena?” he pressed almost gently. “The horse?”
Right. That.
She forced a smile. “Field day. I never bring a horse when I have the strength of my own legs. The exercise is good for me.”
His bright eyes remained on hers, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Yes, I am sure it is.”
And that was it, that was all he said.
Curious.
Ellie cocked her head slightly. “Are you all right, my lord? Have you just arrived? Come to the house, let me get Mrs. Andrews to make you something.”
She turned to go, but West grabbed her arm. Not tightly, not angrily, and yet not precisely gentle either.
More . . . insistent.
“Elena,” he rasped, his voice almost hoarse. “Were you . . . married . . . to my half brother?”
Nature and the weather all seemed to quiet and cool in a moment, and the air in her lungs rushed out in one unexpected blow.
“Oh . . .” she breathed in response, the word containing a dozen or more emotions she could not name.
She swallowed, then dipped her chin, her eyes falling to the toes of his boots, scuffed and coated in travel dust and a little mud from the lands.
Then she looked up into his blue eyes once more.
“You’d best come with me, my lord. I think we have much to discuss, and we might as well eat something while we do. ”