“Oh, goodness. Oh, Lord.” The maid shot up, brushed her skirts and then didn’t know what to do with herself.
Miss Lovell climbed the stile and hurried over. “Are you all right, my lord?”
He was about to say no, that he’d missed an opportunity to touch her hand, to test the power of this undeniable attraction. But the lady reached out and offered to help him up. Ordinarily, pride would force him to refuse.
“Thank you, Miss Lovell.” Miles slid his hand into hers. Though she wore kidskin gloves, the heat from her palm sent a flood of warmth rushing up his arm—a little raced in a southerly direction, too.
The lady’s gaze flitted from his eyes to their joined hands and back again. Her breath came a little quicker, and he fought the urge to pull her down on top of him and plunder her smart mouth.
But li
ke all good maids, the girl hurried over to assist Miss Lovell in dragging Miles to his feet. “I’m clumsy, my lord, that’s all I can tell you. Clumsy as … Well, as clumsy as I don’t know what. I fall over my feet most days.”
“Indeed.”
“You must forgive Ada, my lord.” Miss Lovell pursed her lips. Was she laughing? “She is easily startled.”
Ada nodded but looked most perturbed. “Once, a robin flew out of a bush and gave me such a fright I fell face-first into the brook.”
Now it was Miles’ turn to suppress a grin. Ada needed to spend an hour with Dariell. The man was at one with nature—at one with the universe. He could bring calm to any given situation. And with any luck, he would arrive with the luggage at some point today.
“We were picking algae out of her hair for hours,” Miss Lovell said. She glanced absently at the cottage in the distance, and all amusement faded. “After we’ve seen Mr Roberts, I should return to home. You don’t need my help.”
An odd pang in his chest urged him to contest the statement.
“Regardless what has happened these last five years,” she continued, “it’s clear the tenants still respect your position.”
“And what of you, Miss Lovell? Do you still wish to punish me for my misdeeds?”
“Promises fall too easily from the lips,” she said, holding his gaze with a level of confidence he greatly admired. “Few people keep them. Therefore, I shall reserve opinion until a later date.”
The need to command and conquer this lady took hold again. By way of a distraction, he brushed the dirt from his breeches, looked at Mr Roberts’ property and sighed. It wouldn’t do to march into the man’s house and play the arrogant lord.
“Are you sure you want to visit Mr Roberts today?” Miss Lovell asked as if sensing his apprehension. Was she attuned to his moods or just remarkably perceptive? “Ada cannot abide raised voices. But for everyone’s sake, I would not have you go there alone.”
Miles knew her concern veered more towards the man who’d lost his wife. Still, he was touched she had no desire to throw him to the wolves.
“It takes as much courage to admit to one’s failures as it does to stand up and fight,” he said, and he’d had many fights over the years. “There is nothing I can say to bring Mrs Roberts back from the grave. But I am strong enough to bear the man’s wrath.”
The lady’s eyes softened, and those sapphire pools traced a line across the breadth of his shoulders. “Yes, I do believe you are.”
Mr Roberts stood perched on a ladder, hammering nails into a piece of timber supporting the barn roof. The man’s property came with three acres of land, and yet no sheep grazed in the field, no cattle sheltered in the barn. The air held a damp, musty odour, lacked the unpleasant scent of manure that clung to the back of one’s throat.
Upon hearing their approach, the man looked back over his shoulder. His dark eyes hardened instantly, and his mouth drew blade thin.
Miss Lovell cleared her throat, perhaps intending to speak, but Miles placed a reassuring hand on her arm.
“Mr Roberts, I’m sure you know who I am,” Miles said, stepping forward with confidence, not arrogance. “If you’d care to come down from the ladder there are things we need to discuss.”
The tension in the air was palpable.
“So it’s true. The mighty Lord Greystone has returned.” Mr Roberts spoke in the disrespectful tone the lower classes would never use with their lord and master. “Come down you say. Oh, I’ll come down.”
Clutching the hammer in his hand, Roberts descended the ladder, his feet moving on the rungs with lightning speed. Miles held out his arm and forced Miss Lovell and her maid to stand aside.
“Think of your children,” Miss Lovell said frantically as Mr Roberts marched over to stand but a few feet away. Patches covered the holes in his waistcoat, and days’ worth of grime clung to his skin. With eyes rimmed red, he looked tired to the point of exhaustion.
“May I express my sincere condolences on the death of your wife?”