The second reason is living in Hilltop Farm.
Tuppence Smethurst was someone who was so unsuitable for him that even Isaac knew that a union between them was impossible, but no matter how much he tried to persuade himself to forget all about her, it was never going to happen. Each time he saw her, all the feelings he had harboured for her for practically all his life rose instantly to the surface and bubbled away, churning up all sorts of hidden emotions and regrets that left him bitter and angry for days, weeks, months, years, afterwards.
“Isaac? Isaac!”
Isaac jerked when his mother’s near-shout broke into his reverie. He glared accusingly at her as he brushed brandy off his shirt. “What?”
“Would you care to show Miss Talbot where the ballroom is? I am sure she would like to dance,” Gertrude hissed meaningfully while glaring pointedly at him and repeatedly tipping her head toward the door.
Isaac barely glanced at Miss Talbot as he drawled: “Go out of the door and take a left, Miss Talbot. Keep walking until you reach the main entrance hall. The ballroom is directly opposite the library. You can’t miss it. It’s packed full of people all making a hideous racket that is challenging the might of the expensive orchestra Gertrude employed for the evening.”
“Isaac Chester,” Gertrude hissed, planting her small fists onto the table so she could lean toward her wayward son. “Miss Talbot’s card is marked.”
“So, go and find her partner.”
“That partner is you,” Gertrude growled meaningfully.
Isaac looked into his mother’s hard stare and knew then that she truly was determined to force a union with Miss Talbot. Shaking his head, Isaac eased his six feet, three-inch frame out of the chair and turned to look at Miss Talbot. With a slow smile on his face, he bowed politely at the young woman, who threw his mother a supreme smile of approval and satisfaction. Isaac, without moving, then looked at his mother, who stood like a school mistress with her hands folded before her, her back rigid, and her small, pointed chin tipped toward the ceiling. She glared malevolently at him, her narrowed eyes daring him to defy her.
“Ladies, I am afraid that there has been some miscommunication,” Isaac murmured apologetically as he turned to Miss Talbot. “My mother appears to have given you the mistaken belief that I intend to dance this evening. I am afraid that I am not at liberty to. I have pressing matters to attend to elsewhere. I am paying for tonight’s shenanigans and have a farm to run. However, there is a ballroom full of suitable gentlemen who I am sure will be more than happy to mark your card for you. If you haven’t met any, Gertrude can introduce you to them, I am sure. Now, ladies, excuse me.” Isaac lingered long enough to swipe the brandy bottle off his desk before sauntering negligently out of the room, clearly in no rush to attend to his other ‘pressing matters’. He expected his mother to call him back, or throw something at him, but she didn’t. Instead, Isaac left a stunned, somewhat defeated silence in his wake.
Once in the hallway, rather than take the main stairs to his bed chamber, he headed toward the back of the house, and the servant’s stairs. He was aware of his mother’s discontented muttering as he walked down the hallway and didn’t doubt that she was going to roast his ears in the morning for abandoning her, but he didn’t care.
“Mrs Winder?” Isaac smiled at his flustered housekeeper who stopped bellowing orders to the maids long enough to smile vaguely at him. “It is time to wrap this up now. No more food is to go out to the guests this evening. Get Havers to ensure they all leave by one o’clock.”
Mrs Winder looked astonished because the Chester balls usually went on until three or four in the morning. “Are you sure, sir?” she asked hesitantly looking so relieved Isaac wondered if she was going to cry.
“Yes, I am sure. One o’clock, Mrs Winder, no matter what my mother says. She is not in charge of this house,” Isaac bit out. “I am, and I forbid any more food to be served to the guests now.”
“Sir, is everything all right?” Mrs Winder interrupted before Isaac could leave.
“Yes, it’s fine, Mrs Winder.” But as Isaac took the stairs to his bed chamber, he knew that everything was not all right. He was miserable. His life was not how it should be; how he wanted it to be. He knew what he wanted. He just didn’t think it was ever going to be possible. That left Isaac with one major problem – how he was going to get through life living only half an existence, well aware that the only thing he had ever wanted in life was never going to be accessible to him. It couldn’t be purchased. It couldn’t be influenced. It couldn’t be attained through the help of his connections. Tuppence Smethurst was so far removed from him that she may as well have lived in a different era.
CHAPTER THREE
The following afternoon, Tuppence was huddled in her shepherd’s cloak watching Baxter badgering a flock of sheep into a bleating huddle in the centre of one of the fields on Hilltop Farm. Tuppence whistled an order to him to guide them toward the gate. Within seconds, the flock of sheep began to move in the direction of the barn they were going to spend another night in. Baxter didn’t need her assistance, so Tuppence turned to study the rest of the fields and surrounding lands which made up the farm she owned. Three fields in either direction belonged to her now that her brother was dead. It was as shocking as it was satisfying.
“But they don’t have all my cattle in,” Tuppence growled when she saw the cows scattered across her meadow about half a mile away. “Damn it.”
Muttering in disgust, Tuppence hurried after Baxter, but only so she could secure the sheep in the barn. Minutes later, with Baxter racing ahead of her, Tuppence was on her way to the meadow to get the neighbour’s cattle back onto his land – again.
“How many times have I told you to keep your cattle out of my meadow, Mr Lewis?” Tuppence demanded without preamble when she reached the meadow and saw the farmer crossing his yard.
“Now then, girlie-” Mr Lewis began, clearly annoyed at her tone.
“Don’t you dare ‘girlie’ me, Mr Lewis,” Tuppence snapped. “This is Hilltop’s meadow; you know that Mr Lewis. I don’t care how much you want my farm, dumping your cattle on my land will never give you ownership. You shall be hearing from my solicitor about this if you keep allowing them to stray onto my property. Meantime, you owe me for the repairs to this fence.”
At the mention of having to pay for the damage to the fence, Mr Lewis looked contrite. “I can’t see how the damned things keep getting out.” He scratched his head and looked puzzled. “We lock the gate every night.”
Yes, once they have strayed into the meadow.
“Someone is letting them out, Mr Lewis, because they are on my land a damned sight more than they are on your property. It isn’t good enough. You question my ability to be a farmer but without considering your own. You clearly can’t control your cattle. Meantime, I have to keep repairing the fences that your cattle keep damaging. Well, I am not going to do it anymore, Mr Lewis.” Tuppence knew she was going too far but was too incensed to stop. While she knew it wasn’t her fault, what Mark had said about the locals not considering her capable enough to run the farm irritated the Hell out of her. She didn’t doubt that Mr Lewis would be one of the lifelong farmers who would sit in the tavern and cast doubt on her skills, therefore there was no reason why she shouldn’t put him in his place a little, and question his ability to be a farmer in return.
“I beg your pardon?” Mr Lewis looked annoyed.
“I don’t have a problem controlling my cattle,” Tuppence announced pointedly, looking at his herd which were now huddled together in the centre of her meadow. She mentally applauded Baxter when he raced past them clearly revelling in ordering the huge beasts around. “I told you the last time that this happened that if I find them on Hilltop property again, I shall confiscate them until you compensate me for the broken fence.”
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