Chapter Seven #2
“A combination of approaches,” she said finally. “Crop rotation, including nitrogen-fixing plants every third season, although I’ve really just begun with that. Improved drainage systems. And careful selection of seed stock.”
Drake listened attentively, asking follow-up questions that revealed a genuine interest in agricultural practices.
Katherine found herself explaining techniques she had developed through years of careful observation and experimentation, and to her surprise, he not only understood but offered insightful comments of his own.
“You implemented these methods despite Edmund’s disinterest?” he asked when she had finished.
“The western fields were mine to manage as I saw fit,” Katherine replied. “They were the one area where I could apply what I’d learned without interference.”
“And what you learned produced remarkable results.” Drake’s tone held something that might have been respect. “The figures speak for themselves.”
Katherine felt a flush of pleasure at this acknowledgment. “Thank you. Though I can’t claim all the credit. Farmer Hobbs and his son were invaluable partners in trying new approaches.”
“Nevertheless, it was your vision.” Drake studied her with an intensity that made her suddenly conscious of how long they had been working together, and how isolated they were in the great hall. “You’ve built something impressive, Katherine. Something worth protecting.”
The simple statement, delivered without artifice or flattery, affected her more deeply than she cared to admit. Edmund had never once acknowledged her contributions to Greythorne’s management, let alone praised them.
“I merely did what needed to be done,” she said, uncomfortable with Drake’s approval even as part of her hungered for it.
“A rare quality,” he observed, “particularly among our class. Most people do what’s expected or what’s advantageous. Far fewer do what’s needed, especially when it brings no immediate personal benefit.”
Katherine wasn’t sure how to respond to this philosophical turn in the conversation. There was an undercurrent to Drake’s words that suggested he was reassessing his opinion of her, just as she had been forced to reconsider her initial judgment of him.
They were saved from further personal revelations by the arrival of Thompson, who entered the great hall with a stack of documents under his arm.
“Forgive the interruption, my lord, Lady Katherine,” the steward said with a bow. “But the mason has sent his estimates for the bridge repairs, and there’s a matter regarding the timber order that requires immediate attention.”
Drake gestured for Thompson to join them at the table. “Perfect timing. We’ve just completed our review of the priority repairs.”
As Thompson settled himself and began explaining the new complications, Katherine took the opportunity to observe Drake more carefully.
There was no denying his physical appeal—his broad shoulders and strong features were classically handsome—but it was his focused intelligence that she found herself most drawn to.
He listened to Thompson with complete attention, asking pointed questions that revealed a quick mind and genuine concern for the estate’s welfare.
It was a disconcerting realization. For years, Katherine had associated the Halston name with indifference at best and cruelty at worst. To find herself admiring any quality in Edmund’s successor was unsettling.
“Lady Katherine? Your thoughts?”
She started slightly, realizing that both men were looking at her expectantly. “I beg your pardon. My mind wandered for a moment.”
“Understandable, after such a lengthy work session,” Drake said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Thompson was asking about the quarry at Thornfield. He believes their prices for stone have increased significantly since your last dealings with them.”
“They always attempt to raise prices in spring,” Katherine replied, gathering her thoughts. “But Mr. Wilson, the quarry master, is amenable to negotiation, particularly if you commit to a larger order paid in advance.”
Thompson nodded. “As you say, my lady. Though Lord Greythorne may prefer to explore alternatives.”
“I trust Lady Katherine’s judgment in this matter,” Drake said, surprising her again. “She knows the local suppliers far better than I do. Proceed with the negotiation as she suggests.”
Katherine tried to conceal her astonishment at this easy capitulation on a financial matter. Edmund would never have delegated such a decision, particularly not to her.
“If you’re certain, my lord,” Thompson replied, looking equally surprised.
“I am.” Drake’s tone brooked no argument. “Lady Katherine’s management of estate resources has proven exemplary. We would be foolish not to benefit from her experience.”
The unexpected praise brought warmth to Katherine’s cheeks. “Thank you, but I’m sure Lord Greythorne is perfectly capable of—”
“Of recognizing valuable expertise when I encounter it,” Drake finished for her. “False modesty doesn’t suit you, Katherine.”
The casual use of her given name in Thompson’s presence sent a jolt through her. They had agreed such informality would be reserved for private conversations.
The steward’s eyes widened slightly, but he maintained his professional composure. “Very good, my lord. I shall proceed as Lady Katherine suggests.”
Drake stared at the ledger before him, certain he must be misreading the entries. “Thompson, what is this expenditure for ‘London property acquisition’ dated three months before Edmund’s death? Twenty thousand pounds?”
Thompson shifted uncomfortably. “I believe that was... a personal investment of the late earl’s, my lord.”
“Personal investment?” Drake’s voice grew dangerously quiet. “This amount could have repaired every tenant cottage on the estate.”
Katherine, who had been reviewing planting schedules at the other end of the table, stiffened but said nothing.
Drake continued scanning the entries, his expression darkening with each line. “And these monthly payments to a ‘Mrs. Fairweather’ in London? Five hundred pounds monthly for... consultancy services?”
“My lord, perhaps—” Thompson began.
“She was his mistress, wasn’t she?” Drake said flatly. “And the townhouse was for her.”
The silence in the room was deafening. Katherine rose abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Stay.” The word came out more forcefully than Drake intended. He softened his tone. “Please. You lived with this. You knew where the money went while your tenants suffered.”
Katherine’s jaw tightened. “What would you have had me do? Confront him about his paramours? Challenge his spending? I had no authority, no recourse—”
“You had to watch him squander everything while you scrambled to help the tenants with whatever scraps you could manage,” Drake said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Those ‘creative solutions’ Thompson mentioned—you were redirecting funds wherever possible, weren’t you?”
Katherine lifted her chin defiantly. “The account books are quite clear, my lord. Everything is documented.”
“Yes,” Drake agreed, looking at her with new respect. “Including your purchase of seed and supplies that somehow always cost exactly what Edmund budgeted for entertainment expenses he later cancelled. Very creative indeed.”
As they continued discussing the various orders and arrangements, Katherine found her attention divided between the business at hand and her confusion over Drake’s behaviour.
One moment he was challenging her at every turn, the next he was deferring to her judgment and complimenting her abilities.
It was disorienting, particularly after years of Edmund’s consistent disregard.
When Thompson finally gathered his papers and departed, Katherine rose from her chair, suddenly desperate for fresh air and a moment’s solitude to collect her thoughts.
“I need a brief respite,” she explained when Drake looked at her questioningly. “Perhaps a turn about the gallery.”
“Of course,” he agreed readily. “We’ve been at this for hours. Some movement would do us both good.”
Katherine made her way to the long gallery that overlooked the manor’s formal gardens.
The afternoon sun streamed through tall windows, warming the polished wood floors and illuminating the portraits of Halston ancestors that lined the walls.
She had always found this space peaceful, even during the worst periods of her marriage.
The sound of voices drifted through the partially open door that connected the gallery to Drake’s study.
Katherine recognized Drake’s deep baritone and, was that Mr. Winters’ more measured tones, though she couldn’t make out the words.
She moved to continue her walk, not wishing to eavesdrop, when her own name caught her attention.
“...Lady Katherine’s suggestions are most sound, my lord,” Mr. Winters was saying. “Though I confess I’m surprised by how readily you’ve accepted her involvement.”
“I’m not a fool, Winters,” Drake replied, his voice clearer as he apparently moved closer to the door. “She knows this estate and its needs better than either of us. Only a man blinded by pride would ignore such a valuable resource.”
“That would explain much about the estate’s condition when you inherited it,” Mr. Winters observed carefully.
“Yes, well, I am not my predecessor,” Drake’s tone hardened briefly before softening again. “Though I must admit, Lady Katherine is entirely too clever for her own good. It makes negotiating the boundary dispute considerably more challenging than I anticipated.”
Katherine froze, torn between indignation at being discussed and curiosity about Drake’s true opinion of her.
“She is indeed formidable, my lord,” Mr. Winters agreed. “From what I’ve observed in reviewing the estate documents, she managed to accomplish what the late earl consistently failed to do.”
Drake’s laugh was unexpected—a warm, rich sound that Katherine had never heard from him before. “I can well believe it. I’ve spent the entire morning watching her systematically dismantle my objections with logic, facts, and occasionally sheer force of will.”
There was something in his tone—a mixture of frustration and admiration—that sent an odd flutter through Katherine’s chest.
“And yet you continue to work with her,” the solicitor observed.
“As I said, I’m not a fool,” Drake replied.
“Greythorne needs her knowledge, her connection to the tenants, her understanding of local conditions. Besides...” He paused, and Katherine found herself holding her breath.
“I find her refreshingly direct. After years of dealing with people who say one thing and mean another, there’s something compelling about a woman who speaks her mind so clearly. ”
Katherine took a step back from the door, her cheeks warm with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
To hear herself described as “compelling” by the man she had expected to be her greatest adversary was deeply unsettling.
More unsettling still was the realization that she was pleased by his assessment.
She retreated further down the gallery, not wanting to hear more. Her thoughts were already in sufficient disarray without additional complications.
What was happening to her carefully constructed defences?
She had come to Greythorne determined to protect her interests and assist the tenants she cared for, nothing more.
She had not expected to find herself engaged in stimulating debate with a man whose intelligence matched her own, nor to feel that peculiar thrill when he challenged her ideas rather than dismissing them outright.
Most disconcerting of all was the realization that for the first time since her disastrous marriage, she was actually enjoying a man’s company. Even their arguments had a vitality to them that she found strangely invigorating.
“Entirely too clever for her own good,” she repeated softly to herself, testing the words.
And somehow... she felt oddly pleased.