Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Istepped into the barn a few days later intent upon overseeing the loading of the cart with goods and supplies for our tenants.
An elder kindly man I’d never seen before stood at a stall a bit further down saddling up a lovely golden-coated mare.
I approached in wonder. “Oh, she’s a beauty. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
He bowed his head to me. “I’m Mr. Toby Evans, come from Lord Avebury’s stables. She was needing a stall and a rider, and his lordship asked if she could be here, hoping you might have a use for her?”
“Did he? Oh, my stars.” I stepped closer.
My heart warmed. He was too good. And I found it more difficult to cling to my irritation.
Wariness I still held, but I couldn’t be upset with a man who continued to look out for my every need.
I reached a tentative hand toward her. She immediately leaned toward me, snuffling into my palm.
“Oh, you’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” My smile stretch across my face. “I don’t know what to say. He really means to leave her here with me?”
“That he does, Mrs. Tynsdale. He was quite adamant that it should be this mare. She is as gentle and friendly as any we have, but she’s got a kick to her. She’ll race across any meadow if you’re looking for a good wind in your face.” His smile lines warmed his face.
I ran my hand along her coat. “What’s her name?”
“Well, we call her Honey.”
I nodded. “I love that. It’s perfect. I’ll keep her as long as she’s available. In fact, might I ride her this morning?”
“Certainly. I’m saddling her up with that in mind.”
I hummed to myself. “Thank you.”
The basket of provisions from Mrs. Fletcher was being loaded into the cart. A footman sat at the reins. And I would get to ride this magnificent animal.
Mr. Evans led her out of the barn and over in front of a mounting block.
She was just the right height for me to lift myself up onto her back side saddle.
And with happy prancing hooves, she was ready to go.
I felt the same energy. Whatever my duties for the estate, working with the tenants seemed to be my favorite.
The crisp November air felt invigorating, and I found myself looking forward to the practical work of ensuring everyone was adequately prepared for the coming cold months.
She rode with the perfect amount of eagerness and I found myself enjoying this outing immensely.
Since I’d visited the others more recently, my first stop was the Morrison cottage, where the blacksmith and his family had been resettled after the flooding. I found Mrs. Morrison hanging laundry in the brisk wind while her youngest played with wooden blocks in a patch of sunlight.
I left Honey tied to a hitch post and approached the smiling woman.
"Mrs. Tynsdale," she called warmly. "How lovely to see you. I was just thinking we should send word about how grateful we are for the cottage repairs."
"How are the improvements working out?"
"Better than we dared hope. The new drainage system means we'll never worry about flooding again, and the expanded kitchen makes meal preparation so much easier with three little ones underfoot."
As we discussed the family's winter needs and their willingness to help with Christmas celebrations for the foundling home children, I heard the sound of approaching horses.
Julian rounded a bend. My gaze linked with his immediately and my body lit with anticipation, heart picking up immediately. Goodness.
He dipped his head the tiniest bit in acknowledgment from far, from atop his horse, as if he knew I’d seen him.
"Mrs. Morrison," he called, dismounting with easy grace.
"I came to check on the chimney repairs.
Are you satisfied with the draw?" He turned to me, his eyes alight with mischief.
“And Mrs. Tynsdale, a pleasure to see you as always.” He reached for my hand and bowed deeply with the barest wink before kissing my knuckles.
It was all perfectly proper, and I suppose it was expected. But that did not change my response. What a rebellious spirit I had, wanting him to keep hold of that hand, to peel back the gloves and kiss my hand properly with nothing to block to feel of his mouth.
My face heat immediately further. I spared a glance at him and the knowing look in his eyes fueled my determination to be unaffected. Of all the presumptuous things.
"Oh yes, my lord. It burns clean and draws beautifully. Mr. Simmons here did excellent work." Mrs. Morrison brought me back to the present.
Julian turned to acknowledge me again, this time with a polite nod. "Mrs. Tynsdale. I hope I'm not interrupting important business."
"Not at all. I was just discussing Christmas preparations with Mrs. Morrison."
"Ah yes, the foundling home celebrations. Mrs. Morrison, I understand you've volunteered to help with baking?"
"Indeed, my lord. Happy to contribute what I can."
For the next half hour, we worked together seamlessly—Julian coordinating with his craftsmen about final repairs while I organized Mrs. Morrison's contributions to the Christmas project.
There was no awkwardness, no forced politeness, simply two people focused on ensuring a family's comfort and welfare.
When we prepared to leave, Julian naturally fell into step beside me as we walked toward our respective horses. Which reminded me. “I need to thank you for the use of this lovely horse. I understand you sent her over to our stables?”
He smiled. “I’m so pleased she has someone to ride her. I hoped it would be of use, especially now with us both needing to be so many places.”
“It was too kind, and I’m afraid I cannot return her even though I should.” I looked away.
He lifted my fingers in his hand and waited until I returned his gaze.
“Please.” His voice lowered in earnestness.
“Please allow me this small gesture. If not for you, for your aunt. Honey is a dear horse and needs an equally dear rider…” His eyes widened as though he’d surprised even himself with the admission but he held my gaze and then inched just a little closer. “Please. I am in earnest.”
I hesitated, but was truly unable to deny myself the animal. I’d grown quite attached to her and she was the gentlest and best of rides. “Thank you. Again. It’s all too much, really.”
“It’s not. At all. There is much more I would share with you.” His voice lowered further, his words finding themselves almost at my ear. “Were you to allow it.”
I breathed in slowly, hardly daring to meet his gaze but when I did, the depths of his eyes bore into mine and I knew he was sincere.
My rebellious heart wanted to shout, “I’ll allow it!
” To the universe and to whisper it again more intimately to him.
But I nodded instead, turning away, not sure what would be appropriate to say.
He cleared his throat. "The Weatherby cottage next?" he consulted what appeared to be his own list.
"Yes, and then the Coopers. You?"
"The same. I want to ensure the roof repairs are holding properly before the weather turns harsh."
We rode to the Weatherby cottage in comfortable silence, both absorbed in thoughts. I found myself noticing how well he sat his horse, how naturally he seemed to belong in this landscape of rolling fields and tidy cottages.
At the Weatherby house, we discovered that Mr. Weatherby had recovered from his fever but was concerned about his elderly father-in-law's persistent cough.
Julian immediately arranged for his own physician to call, while I organized additional blankets and strengthening broths from Mrs. Fletcher's kitchen.
"You're very kind to take such trouble," Mrs. Weatherby said as we prepared to depart.
"It's no trouble," Julian replied. "Your family's welfare is important to the entire community."
"And we're all looking forward to the Christmas festivities for the foundling children," I added. "Your daughters' willingness to help with decorations is much appreciated."
"They're so excited about it," Mrs. Weatherby beamed. "It's given them something wonderful to anticipate."
As we rode toward the Cooper cottage, I found myself reflecting on how naturally Julian and I had coordinated our efforts. There had been no discussion of who would handle what—we had simply divided responsibilities based on our respective strengths and resources.
"The roof work looks excellent," I commented, noting the neat thatch and properly sealed edges.
"Burtons does fine work. I've used his services on several properties now."
"And Mrs. Weatherby seemed much relieved about her father-in-law's health."
"Dr. Matthews is excellent with elderly patients. He'll know exactly what's needed."
He turned to me. “I must say, these visits are one hundred times more enjoyable than usual. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” His mouth wiggled in a fought and won grin. “Oh, wait, it’s you!”
I laughed.
“You make everything that much brighter.” He turned in the saddle fully toward me. “And I’m finding a bit of freedom in my complete honesty with you.”
I raised my brows. “Oh?”
“Yes, a steward would never flirt with his employer.” He dismounted without another word to me, leaving me quite open mouthed and without words to fill it.
At the Cooper cottage, we found Mr. Cooper had returned to work despite his injured hand, though his wife was clearly worried about his ability to manage the physical demands of his trade.
"Perhaps," Julian suggested thoughtfully, "you might consider taking on an apprentice? Someone to handle the heavier work while you focus on the skilled aspects that require experience."
"Can't afford to pay an apprentice properly," Mr. Cooper said with obvious regret.
"What if we structured it as community investment?" I suggested. "Several families contributing to support an apprentice who would serve the entire area?"